Say You'll Be There: A Second Chance Romance (Love In Seven Mile Forge Book 2)

by Billie Dale

  Before Sam continues, Mazric’s stalky blob circles the room. “What happened in here? Did you two finally try to kill each other?” he chortles, but the heavy in the room kills it quick.

  Strands of my hair fall in my face as I realize how screwed I am. The tendril-ish fingers of a headache from eyestrain are scratching behind my eyes. I flop over to my butt, hanging my head between my bent knees. I feel Sammy Lee hovering near my toes.

  “You’re a ball of nerves and always alert.” She flops down next to me, but I can’t meet her eyes. Before she can ask why I let the opportunity to lock the guy in a padded cell pass, I offer, “I didn’t have my glasses on.” The excuse sounds flimsy to my own ears.

  Mazric hears me. “You still should’ve seen the blurred blob trashing your…” he glances around, “what is this thing?” Without waiting for a response, he continues, “Seth, Miguel. Explain how this bastard got past you.”

  Mazric Vortex carried a chip on his shoulder the day I met him. He was the only ten-year-old I knew who swirled with enough anger to silence you with a glare. His one weakness was Samantha Gentry. He protected her with gladiator precision, daring anyone to near his defenses. When I met them, I understood if I ever hurt her, he’d burn me to the ground. When I wormed under his umbrella by becoming Sammy’s bestie, I too became a coveted piece of the World According to Mazric. We were oddballs and outcasts, but everyone gave a wide berth. The day we set out to chase our dreams, I believed life wouldn’t kick me too hard. Mazric wouldn’t let it. Then it all went to hell when Sammy realized she was pregnant, deciding to shun the only man she ever loved. He wrote us all off.

  When the guy chasing me turned violent Mazric was an hour away, attending UCLA. He was shattered and heart broken, thinking my brother violated the love of his life and she carried his baby. As the twin of the man who ruined his world, I couldn’t run to him for help. All my friends were tangled in Sammy’s mess and I refused to add to their stress.

  “Sir,” Miguel steps forward, “There was a clusterfuck with the room. Mr. Holmes offered Seth and I the use of his cabana. He promised Miss Carmichael’s safety.”

  “Joey, you were right here. Inches from where this guy tore the room to shreds. Dude, you’re a light sleeper and you wake up at six every morning to run. Explain it to me, man.” He’s still the same hard Mazric, only now there is an edge of power only ferreted to those who possess more money than God.

  I can’t see shit. My face hurts from squinting and the ache from earlier gains steam, warning a migraine is brewing if I don’t stop trying to focus. If I were at home, I’d grab a pair of contacts but sand and lenses don’t mix, so I didn’t pack any. For the actual ceremony I stuck a pack inside Aunt Vivianne’s luggage so I wouldn’t lose them. I own multiple pairs of glasses in varying colors and patterns. I packed two plus the one on my face, covering all my clumsy accident-prone bases.

  Sammy sits next to me, rubbing her hand on my back. Unable to keep up my fight for sight, I lean on her shoulder and close my eyes. “He took my eyes,” I whisper, fighting the tears clogging my throat.

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” Joey swears signaling he heard my words.

  “Oh, Pres.” Sam hugs me closer. “Why is your room a tent? How did all this happen?”

  I press the heel of my hands into my eye sockets. “I screwed up on the reservations, wanting to save Mazric a few bucks.” I continue explaining the whole room debacle, “Inside the room over there it’s cozy and you can hear the waves.” Saliva pools clog my throat. “We were, uh, otherwise occupied this morning. I sensed someone watching, but… uh… other distracting things happened and the cube is soundproof except for the wave vents at the top, soooo…”

  “Honey, you jump at a sneeze. What could possibly shake you off…” she stops. I open my eyes and because she’s close, her face is in focus. Her mouth drops, she cups her hand over it as her brows touch her hairline. “Oh, oh, Ooooohhh!” she exclaims.

  Mazric knees pop when he kneels so I can see his face. “Elvis, I gave you my American Express Black Card. Is there a reason you figured I needed to save a few bucks? Do Splinter or I appear to be hard up for cash? How could you think this thing the hotel considers a room would be suitable?”

  His soft tone carries a hint of condescension, as though he’s speaking to Mazzy Jae. I messed up. I know it, Joey knows it, my guards know it… the entire room is more than aware of my stellar mistake. The judgment and doubt are a few of the reasons I kept this situation to myself all this time. Yes, he’s a superstar athlete with exuberant fans and his own fair share of crazies. The difference between he and I is, he’s a man with means and resources to live without looking over his shoulder.

  I report the incidents, the cops tell me to move and stay aware of my surroundings. Even the female officer’s eye me with patronizing superiority, as if I ask for this head case to paint a target on my life and throw darts. He frolics around, mocking the way I live, while I hide and when I ask for help, I’m met with derision. I’m over it, done accepting his parameters for how I act and what I do. He threatened Joey, invading yet another part of life with his madness. This is Sam and Mazric’s time. I hate how his intrusion steals their spotlight.

  “Don’t blame this on her. I screwed up. It won’t happen again.” Joey’s cold harsh tone stabs a needle through my heart. I wish I could see his eyes because those cornflower blues always speak his truth. Last night we fucked, hard and unforgiving, but this morning was about more than pleasure or giving in. At least for me it was.

  A cacophony erupts with everyone talking over each other. I hear my name thrown here and there, but no one bothers to ask my thoughts. Sammy continues to comfort me as best she can, but the stalker smote harder this time and I’m struggling to swallow this one down. He took my sight for fuck’s sake. On the verge of losing my shit, a booming voice cuts through the insanity.

  “Y’all need to shut the hell up,” my brother roars, rushing to where I’m still slumped in the sand. “Come on, Sis.” He tugs me off the ground, tucking me under his arm.

  Joey steps in our path. “Where are you taking her?” His stiff body stands hard blocking our way and his eyes burn, never straying from mine.

  “None of your damn business, J. She’s lives terrorized by some unknown with the recent attack happening right under your nose. All of you standing around here casting blame haven’t stopped to consider the woman he’s after. My sister, your best friend, Preslee fucking Carmichael. She’s wrecked, scared, hoping one of you fucks will wake up and see she needs help. Help she asked none of us for. Seven years, y’all. He’s trapped her for far too long and if none of you can make her feel safe, then I will.” With each of his barbs Joey’s posturing deflates as though my brother’s words are knives slicing lines in his chest. Hendrix shoulders past him, tucking me tighter against his chest. I breathe in his signature dark chocolate tinged with ink scent, allowing it to comfort me enough to keep my feet moving.

  He leads me through throngs of people setting themselves up for hours playing in the water and building sandcastles. High pealing laughter of children excited for their days. Carefree without a trouble in the world outside sunburn and jellyfish. Unaware of what lurks in dark corners watching, waiting, forever tracking, antsy for the moment to strike. Prey to predator, with no escape.

  At the sea edge we curve right, heading away from the line of cabanas. The warm froth from spent waves washes over my bare feet. The sun’s rays, already blistering, dance on the surface and seagulls dive for fish. Well, I think they’re seagulls. Aside from what’s inches in front of my face, everything else is a blob of swirling colors.

  “Hendrix,” Sammy calls, “Wait.” Hendrix doesn’t stop. Under my ear his chest straightens. “Please,” she begs. He falters, hearing the tears hanging on her plea. My brother and Sam grew close during my absence. More in tune with each other than he and I. For a few years I hated their relationship. Jealousy ate at my soul because of his entanglement and inabil
ity to be there for me after all the years I protected him. It’s selfish and horrible, which is what makes envy one of my many sins.

  He slows his steps, allowing her to catch us. She shoves him away, which he allows because there is no way her tall, tiny frame could move his imposing one. Her bony arms wrap around me and because of our height difference, my forehead hits her knobby shoulder. My breath whooshes from the strength of her embrace. “I’m sorry. Preslee, God, I’m so, so sorry.” Her sobs free my own until we’re both crying, trembling sods on the most beautiful beach in the world.

  “Come on, Pres, too many people are staring. It’s not safe out here. He could be watching,” Hendrix warns. Sammy releases all of me but my hands and stares down my brother. Behind her I see two hovering, large black, out of place in the heat blobs. I don’t need to see their faces; it’s Seth and Miguel. Could they be more obvious?

  “They won’t leave your side again.” She leans to meet my eye. “No matter who tells them to,” she adds poignantly, glancing to Hendrix. “Are you taking her to her cabin next to ours?” My mouth gaps open to ask how she knows, but she cuts me off. “The hotel called Mazric to confirm your reservation. Unless you want to share Hendrix’s room?”

  “Uh, well, I kinda brought a guest with me. But, Preslee, if you need me then I’ll book her on the next flight home.” He means it and I love him for it, but if my brother is involved enough with a woman to bring her to the most romantic place on earth for a wedding, no way am I going to cockblock him. True story, nuptials make women go all marry me crazy and if you bring her to one, then you are the groom she envisions in her own marriage fantasy. Been there, done that, got too many bridesmaid dresses to prove it.

  When a Hollywood B-lister ties the knot, they include everyone and their brother in the wedding party to make it a gab-mag worthy event. At first it was the free booze and food, then it was a chance to network. The last few were an excuse to leave my house. I’d be safe because even though they hadn’t reached Walk of Fame status yet, the events were always well guarded. I made it a game. If when the groom saw the bride for the first time and became enthralled. If the sight of her steals his breath and the rest of the room vanishes, you could read it on his face. I projected they’d make it.

  More times than not he was more interested in smiling for the cameras, but those few who made your heart grow like the Grinch on Christmas Day in Whoville proved it was out there and kept my dream alive. In my vision only one man ever stood in place of my groom, Josiah Holmes.

  “No, Hendrix, I don’t want to curb your fun. Can’t wait to meet the woman with the power to tame the great Hendrix Carmichael. Until Aunt Viv arrives in a week, I’ll be blind and a bother. The cabin has two bedrooms, a fold out couch and a conversion chair to cot. Plenty of room for Thing One and Two, me, Joey and Cash.”

  “No way. Joey isn’t staying with you after what I saw this morning,” Sam says.

  “And what was that?” Hendrix asks.

  “Nothing,” Sam quips. “I’ll bring your luggage down later. Me and Maz have a few things to take care of first. I ordered you some shorts, a tank and some underthings from the gift shop. Go, take a shower, rest your eyes.” With no rebuttal, she drags me in for a hug. “We’ll talk about all things Joey later,” she whispers in my ear. After her embrace she tucks me close to Hendrix, calling out bye as she jogs away.

  Thirty-One

  Preslee

  I’m a sweaty mess still wearing last night’s clothes. When we reached the end of the piece of beach belonging to the hotel, a man with a golf cart waited to take us the rest of the way. My camisole sticks to the wetness on my spine. Bright colors paint the landscape along the concrete path, lending their floral fragrance to the surrounding air. It’s a gorgeous abstract painting without shape or form because of my blindness.

  I’ve got the lovely lady lumps, ample humps, and if one more piece of straw hits my back this camel will break. Between the worry, the inability to take in my surroundings, Joey dangling the possibility of forgiveness with the hope of more—only to rip it away with his cool demeanor—and how my stalker was close enough to catch but slipped away again the circuitry is overloaded. I’m tired of all of it.

  My eyes burn from trying to focus, to alleviate the strain I lean my head on my brother’s shoulder, allowing my lids to close. The soft sway of the cart rocks me to sleep.

  I awake in the cradle of Hendrix’s arms. He carries me inside before setting me on my feet. From the shadows and outlines I think the place is perfect. My headache hurts too much to concentrate on anything for too long. He leads me to my room; aiming me in the bathroom's direction and explaining what shelves hold the shampoo, conditioner, and soap. Another thing I lost is my favorite peppermint body care collection. I don’t remember seeing it in the mess, which means he took it too.

  “Thanks for your help. You should head back to your lady friend. I think I will take a nap. Can I wake up when I’m old and gray with grandkids in a world where my stalker is dead?”

  He slips a tiny blister pack in my hand. “No. We’re gonna stop this guy. You will stay alert and see those parts of your life leading to how and where those grandchildren came from. Besides, you’d never accept a hair full of silver. No, Sis, you’re gonna be a hot-to-trot granny with wrinkles and stunning blonde hair. Now go put your damn eyes in.” He orders pointing me to the bathroom.

  I squeeze the foil in my palm. “Where did you find these?”

  “There are three packs on the sink in the bathroom. Samantha probably had them delivered.”

  Panicked bile climbs up my throat. Tears gather on my lids. I blink them away, swallowing down the mass gagging me as I throw the pack across the room. Hendrix’s out-of-focus form moves to retrieve it. If I could see his face, I’m sure his eyes are asking questions and his forehead wrinkles want answers. “He placed them here. Guess he figured I’d be so desperate to see by the time we arrived I wouldn’t ask how someone could produce my thick prescription so quick. If I stick those in my eyes, he accomplishes what he tried to do by taking my glasses. He will blind me. A punishment for what he saw Joey and I doing this morning.” All the despair turns my voice watery and fills it with defeat. “He was in here Hendrix.”

  I shuffle to the sizeable lump in the room, when I’m close enough I see it’s the bed. Upon my declaration Hendrix didn’t ask what happened with Joey, though I’m certain the inquisition will come when he’s not freaking out. Phone to his ear, his worry bellows through the cabin as he bolts from the room shouting for Seth and Miguel, he orders them to search everywhere as he yells to the person on the other end of the cellular connection about the contacts.

  They won’t find him. A shadow is never caught.

  The sadness, depression, and utter defeat creeps under the mask I wear to hide it all. Strong and unrelenting it shatters my pretense, darkening the last corner of my soul where a pin light of hope still lived. On top of the blankets I lie, curling myself into the smallest human ball, allowing it to devour me.

  A stalker chips away at all we take for granted. At first you feel his eyes but your fear receptors don’t react. It’s invigorating. A secret admirer. The flowers and gifts, so perfect in the beginning, build you up with giddy excitement bustling inside with each new day. I mean in a city of a thousand faces, he saw you and found something unique. You don’t know how violent he becomes between breaths or how one misstep might flip his psycho switch.

  When the gifts sour and his true colors shine, you become paranoid, analyzing every person you encounter for signs. He’s there; you feel it. Always lurking. You pretend he won’t hurt you but it’s a lie. Love and obsession run hand in hand. He becomes the director of your routine and daily activities. A maestro you want to please or else there’s hell to pay. A simple change in hair or coffee order sends him into a tailspin meaning punishment will come. You rebel at first because it’s your life and no one is telling you how to live it. The threats and invasions drag you back in line
, under his thumb, where he believes you belong.

  After years, your mind weakens wondering if he could be more. I mean observant, attentive. Took the time to learn all your quirks and has seen you at your worst. He already rides permanent shotgun in the back of your mind. Maybe he could be the one. The benefits of living with the devil you know. You’re already a prisoner to his will so why not bring him into the light.

  My world is his chessboard. Designed for him to take it all. Methodically he’s won all my pieces sitting one move from checkmate. I spent months wondering if I could turn his lurking unseen silhouette diaphanous. Drag him from the periphery. Bring him front and center by offering the one thing he chases. Me.

  Until this moment something inside me continued to fight. I shifted my pieces, fighting to protect the queen and keeping him one step away. Joey. He was my heart's last iota of hope. I fled, broke him, and locked away every memory. In my darkest of hours, I’d open a door; let the light in. He set the standard for what I identified as love. He is the reason I refused to drown. If he was there hating me, love existed.

  I’m not crazy or at least not fully. The fiery passionate way he hates me could only happen if at one time he loved me just as hard.

  Some part of me believed in his forgiveness. One day we would reconnect and recapture what we started, only instead of youthful immaturity, we’d discover how to love each other fully because we survived the loss. Last night was our reconnect for me, but for him it was closure. The ending I never allowed him and the revenge he sought for almost a decade.

  The stalker wins. Checkmate. I concede. He can do his worst because without Josiah Holmes's light guiding me home, the world is nothing but shadows anyway.