Beautiful Rush

by Rose, Emery

  “We’re really doing this. Did you doubt it?”

  “No. You’re not a dweller.” She sounded annoyed about that.

  “No sense in hanging onto the past. We just have to deal with it head-on, make our peace with it, and move on.”

  “You make it sound so simple.”

  “It doesn’t have to be complicated.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, okay. It’s not complicated that you were shot by a man who used to work for my father. Or that you found out that Ivan Petrov was your father and Sasha, my best friend and first boyfriend was your brother. Because that’s not crazy.”

  It was crazy. Fucked-up. Weird. A coincidence beyond my wildest imagination. But that was life. You couldn’t make this shit up. I had no real interest in Ivan Petrov, but I would have liked the chance to know Sasha, so it was strange, but somehow fitting that Keira was our common link.

  We had a ten-hour drive ahead of us tomorrow. Plenty of time to talk and work through things before she faced her father. We still had unfinished business. Might as well get it all out there. “On the drive down, you can tell me all about Sasha.”

  26

  Keira

  It was day three of staring at the prison walls from the parking lot. We’d been sitting in Deacon’s SUV for twenty minutes. I had already eaten a cinnamon Pop-Tart and finished my coffee. Which was usually my cue to tell Deacon I was ready to leave. Then we’d drive around for a few hours. Talk. Eat. Watch movies in the motel room. Have sex. Sleep and wake up early to head over to the Visitors Parking lot and do it all over again.

  I sat up straighter as a woman crossed the parking lot, her black wool coat belted, showing off her trim figure. Her dark hair was glossy and styled to perfection and although I couldn’t see her face clearly from here, I would be willing to bet that her makeup was perfect. Not a single crack in her façade. Mask firmly in place. My mother was beautiful. Not even the circumstances could change that.

  Deacon was watching her through the window, and although he had never met her, he must have known who she was because he got out of the driver seat and rounded the front of his SUV and opened my door for me.

  “Today’s the day,” I said.

  He smiled and I took the hand he held out to me. I had already decided that this was something I needed to do alone, and I knew that Deacon would understand I wasn’t trying to cut him out.

  “You sure you don’t want me to come with you?”

  I nodded. “I need to do this.”

  “Okay.” He gave my hand a little squeeze. “I’ll be right here waiting for you.”

  “I’m counting on it.”

  With that, I jogged after my mother who was nearly at the door of the visitors waiting room. “Mom,” I called. Her footsteps didn’t even slow and she didn’t turn around or look over her shoulder, so I called her by her first name. That made her stop and turn around. How sad that she didn’t respond to ‘Mom.’

  “Keira.” She looked me up and down. I was wearing the black Moncler parka open over an oversized sweatshirt I’d stolen from Deacon, skinny jeans and biker boots. No makeup, just lip balm. My hair a wild mess of waves that nearly reached my waist now. When I lived in Miami, I used to get it styled at an expensive salon and use overpriced products, straighteners and a blow-dryer to coax it into submission. Now I was lucky if I ran a brush through it.

  She pursed her lips. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m…I came to visit…” I waved my hand at the prison. Jesus. This was my mother. Why was it so hard to talk to her? It had always been this way for us though. Nothing has changed. “Are you okay? How have you been?”

  “I’m fine, Keira.” She stepped away from the door and we stood off to the side to let the other visitors pass. “Your father didn’t add you to the visitors list.”

  I stared at her, the words not fully registering. “What? But I need to see him.” My eyes darted to the door again. “I drove down here from Brooklyn…” I stopped talking and huffed out a laugh.

  Why was I surprised? Of course, my father would have been vindictive and not added me to the list. It was the equivalent of having the last word which he always had to have. He wanted to show that he was still in control, even from a prison cell. Which answered my question. He would never forgive me for my betrayal. He wanted me to know that I had won my freedom and independence at his expense. And, of course my mother would support him. Of course, she would never stand up to him or try to defend me.

  But she was still standing right in front of me and I wasn’t going to leave until I got a few things off my chest. I wasn’t expecting any answers from her. I just needed her to listen.

  “You abandoned your own sons for him.” I waved my arm at the door as if he was standing right there on the other side of it, still pulling all the strings. “Abandoned me because I betrayed him,” I said, laying out the cold, hard facts. I didn’t sound angry or hurt and that surprised me.

  She shook her head and let out a breath. “I left you because I wanted you to have that freedom you’d always craved. I left because I couldn’t look my own sons in the eye after what I did to them. You’re all better off without me.”

  I bit my tongue. You’re all better off without me. Maybe it was true, and I was starting to believe it was, but that was no excuse. My mother was a coward. She just wanted to brush this all under the rug like she’d been doing all her life.

  “I don’t expect you to understand,” she said. “I don’t expect you to forgive me.” Her voice was detached.

  Which made it that much harder to have any sympathy for her. She had done this. She had made her own proverbial bed by choosing my father over her own children. “Why did you keep my brothers a secret for all those years?”

  “I was ashamed.”

  I shook my head. Over the past months, I had learned a lot about the lies we tell, especially the ones we tell ourselves. They were so harmful and as Tate said, they always come back to bite you in the ass. “If you’d been honest from the beginning, it would have been okay.”

  It wouldn’t have been okay. It had been a shitty thing to do, leaving her own sons, but she could have at least tried to make it up to them. She could have fought to be a part of their lives. She could have done a lot of things, starting with acting like she gave a shit.

  “I can’t go back and fix the past. There were a lot of things I should have done differently. But I tried to forget Killian and Connor. I thought you would be a second chance to get it right.”

  I laughed bitterly, wondering how it was that it had all come to this. “That didn’t quite work out, did it?”

  “No, it didn’t.”

  “You and Dad…you always made me feel like the third wheel. Like there wasn’t enough space in your relationship for me. You did that. Not him. You.”

  She lifted her chin. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sometimes sorry isn’t good enough.”

  “I realize that. You still have a chance to do the right things. To live a good life. I don’t.”

  It was in that moment, outside a federal penitentiary that I realized I was nothing like my mother. Or my father. I was my own person. I was far from perfect. I made mistakes, did stupid things, said words I regretted, but I would fight fiercely for the people I love. If I ever had kids, I would never abandon them. Not in a million years. I would never give them a reason to doubt my love.

  But my mother would rather give up, run away and hide and pretend her children didn’t exist, rather than fight to have them in her life.

  “Even after everything, and knowing what you do, you still love him?”

  “Yes. And I always will.”

  Now I knew the difference between a healthy relationship and a toxic one. I knew what it was like to be loved by a good man who wanted to keep me safe and protect me without trying to control me. A man who gave me wings to fly. Who suggested drag racing as a way to conquer my fears. He did that because he knew me and he understood me, and it had worked,
just like he’d expected it would. Somehow, I had come to terms with the fact that I loved a man who had chosen a dangerous job. It was part of who he was. It was part of the reason I’d fallen for him in the first place. And life…it could be snatched away in a heartbeat so you’d damn well better enjoy every moment while you could. Because you just never knew what your future held.

  Live hard, love hard, never give up. That was how I wanted to live my life.

  It was time to go. Time to say goodbye. Time to get my life together and stop dwelling on the past but I wanted her to know all the things she was missing out on. “Ava and Connor got married. And Eden and Killian are expecting a baby in May.”

  I watched her face, waiting for a reaction. Something. But I got nothing from her. Just a nod. That was it. A curt nod like I’d just given her the fucking weather report.

  “Go back to your life, Keira. There’s nothing for you here.”

  I let out a long breath and looked at the door leading to the visitors’ room. She was right. There was nothing for me here. “Goodbye, Mom. Take care of yourself.”

  “Goodbye Keira.” She looked over my shoulder before she turned and walked away, head held high, back ramrod straight.

  My father was a ruthless criminal. My mother never really loved me.

  But I had built a new life for myself. I was lucky. Surrounded by love. Surrounded by family in the truest sense of the word.

  Strong arms wrapped around me and I turned in Deacon’s arms and placed my hand over his heart, reassured by the steady rhythm. Tears rolled down my cheeks and he held me close. I cried for my mother. My father. Sasha. All the people I’ve lost in my life. Even Anthony who I had once believed in.

  I thought about what Deacon had said, how I was loyal to the right people. Deacon, Killian, Connor…they were good men. The kind of men who held you close when they know you needed it. The kind of men who tried to do the right thing. To protect you and keep you safe. Not control you or play fucked-up games with your head.

  Deacon stroked my hair and let me cry. We’d talk about it on the ten-hour drive back to Brooklyn. But right now, he knew that I just needed to be held. In the end, after all the sleepless nights and the worry and the guilt, this was how I had to find my closure. Shut out of my father’s life, a quick chat with my mother in the prison parking lot.

  I forgive you, Keira. I said the words in my head. They were just a whisper, but I heard them. I would say those words many more times and each time I did, the voice in my head would get louder and stronger, and eventually I would believe it. I would know it was true.

  This time, when I cried, I didn’t feel broken. I didn’t feel like I needed Deacon to put the pieces back together. The tears were just my final goodbye to a life I had left behind.

  Releasing Deacon, I wiped away my tears and I smiled. “Let’s go home.”

  Epilogue

  Deacon

  TWO YEARS AND SIX MONTHS LATER…

  I hold out my hand to Keira and she places hers in mine. “You owe me a dance.”

  She smiles. “You can have all my dances.”

  I pull her into my arms, and we dance to the song she chose. Ryan Adams’ cover of “Wonderwall.” She is my wonderwall. Barefoot in a forest green strapless gown, long, wild waves of hair falling around her shoulders, she has never looked more beautiful. Hundreds of fairy lights twinkle above us like stars. Everyone we know and love is gathered in the white tent set up in the backyard behind my grandfather’s cabin. My parents, Abby, Connor and Ava, Eden and Killian, Max and his girlfriend, Amber. They started dating last year after Keira introduced them at a drag race. Tate and the guys from the garage are here, my cop buddies, and Keira’s pit crew.

  We were married in the cathedral in the woods. The sun was just setting as we said our vows, promising each other forever. We ate tacos and drank beer and tequila. She fed me cake—chocolate with salted caramel icing.

  I lower my face to hers and kiss her lips. Mine. We’re still kissing, moving slowly to the music when a loud shriek cuts through the music.

  A tail thwacks the back of my leg and I look down as our rescue dog Zeus runs circles around us, a doll clamped in his jaws. Eden and Killian’s little girl Rosie chases after him. “Bad doggy,” she reprimands. Grabbing him by the collar, fearless in the face of an eighty-pound black Labrador, she tries to drag him away and wrestle the toy out of his mouth at the same time.

  Everyone in the tent is laughing at the display and Keira buries her face in my shoulder, her body shaking with laughter. This is our life. Crazy, chaotic, never quite going to plan.

  “Rosie,” Killian says, swooping in and lifting her into his arms. “What are you trying to do?”

  “He stole my toy. I wanna beat him up.”

  Killian tries to suppress his laughter as Rosie raises her fists, her eyes narrowed. She’s adorable, with big blue eyes and golden curls. Everything she does is so fucking cute that you can’t help but smile at her antics. Killian is a total sucker for her. She has him wrapped around her little finger. “Rosie. You can’t beat up a dog.”

  “I can. I’m a badass.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Uncle Deacon.” She points at me, throwing me under the bus. “He says I’m like Mommy and Auntie Keira and Auntie Ava. We’re the badass family. Right?” she asks me, daring me to dispute that. It’s hard to believe this kid is only two. She’s whip-smart and already has a better command of the English language than some adults. Killian is going to have his hands full with this one.

  I chuckle at the thought of Rosie as a teenager. “Right. And you’re the biggest badass of them all.” Killian scowls at me. “But that’s not a nice word. Come dance with me and your Auntie Keira.”

  “You can show us how it’s done,” Keira said. “We’re not that good at dancing.”

  “Okay.” She smacks her palms against Killian’s cheeks and gives him a big kiss. “Let me down, Daddy. I’m gonna dance.” She points her finger at me and Keira. “They need my help.”

  Killian laughs and sets her on her feet. Rosie shows us some of her moves. Her signature move is spinning in circles until she gets so dizzy, she falls into a heap. The girl’s crazy. In the very best way.

  Our wedding day is perfect. Right up there in the hit parade of best memories.

  We’ve made a lot of good memories over the past few years. It’s been busy. Unsurprising to everyone, Keira’s drag racing career took off. She’s on the road more than I would like, but we made a commitment to support each other’s careers and dreams. I go to as many races as I can, cheering her on from the sidelines. I’m not going to lie. Whenever I watch her race, my heart is in my throat and I’m nervous as hell. The risks are high. She could easily lose control of her stock car and crash. But she loves it and she’s fearless behind the wheel and there’s nothing she’d rather be doing. That’s something I can understand.

  She still worries about me, although she tries not to let it get to her. Whenever I speak to her while I’m working, I always tell her it’s a quiet night, or that I’m just catching up with paperwork, go back to sleep. Sometimes it’s true, often it’s not, but those are the only lies that slip off my tongue these days, and it’s for her peace of mind so I can justify it. I think she knows, but she never calls me out on it.

  Every now and then, she’ll mention her mother or her father, but it’s not often and for the most part, she has made her peace with it. My parents love Keira, and she and my mother have gotten close over the past couple of years. It helps a lot, having someone who actually gives a shit, who treats her more like a daughter than her own mother ever did. We don’t talk about Anthony or Ivan, neither of us feeling the need to dredge up those memories, but we do talk about Sasha sometimes and every year on the anniversary of his death, we drink vodka.

  The morning after our wedding, we woke up just before the sun rose and drank our coffee on the back deck. In a couple hours, everyone who stayed at the house last night and a few
other friends and family members will stop by for brunch and to see us off to the airport. We’re going to Morocco for our honeymoon to eat tagine and wander the twisting streets, visit ancient ruins and busy marketplaces. It’s going to be sensory overload. But right now, it’s quiet and peaceful, just the two of us in a place filled with so many happy memories. I proposed to her here a year ago. Not here in this cabin. On top of Overlook Mountain. I got down on one knee and asked her to spend forever with me. The forecast had been for sunshine, but it started raining when we were halfway up the mountain. I slipped a rainbow eternity ring on her finger and she cried, falling to her knees and kissing me through her tears in the rain. It was beautiful. Keira said that the rain was good luck and I believed her.

  I pull her into my lap on the lounge chair and she leans her head against my shoulder, as the sun rises, the morning bathed in pale golden light. “I can’t wait to raise a family with you,” she says.

  “I can’t wait to grow old with you.”

  “I’ll still be feeding you.”

  “And I’ll still be holding your hand across the table.”

  She will never be lonely again and I will never go hungry.

  Also by Emery Rose

  The Beautiful Series

  Beneath Your Beautiful

  Beautiful Lies

  Beautiful Rush

  Acknowledgments

  To Maddie and Lillie, a big thank you for your unending patience and your unwavering support. I love your beautiful souls, my gorgeous girls.

  To Petra, Annie, and Aliana—thank you so much for your time, your thoughts, and your encouragement, and for loving Deacon and Keira as much as I do. To Ellie McLove, thank you for the editing and all you do.

  Sarah at Okay Creations, thank you for creating another gorgeous cover. It’s truly a work of art and you are so talented.