Before She Was Mine

by Amelia Wilde

  “Oh?”

  I tighten my grip on the phone. “That was the past. Summer—” Shit. I didn’t mean to say her name. Too late now. “She has nothing to do with that. You can’t keep coming after her.”

  “Who’s going to stop me?”

  “Alex, she had nothing to do with it. If you want your revenge, you can take it out on me. In person. Stop chasing us around the city. She’s pregnant, for fuck’s sake.” The rage builds, but I keep my voice level. I have to control it. I have to control it.

  Alex is silent on the other end of the line.

  “Come on. You’ve been trying to run me over with your car. Sit down with me and talk instead. I’ll buy you a beer.”

  He’s not going to agree to it. He’s going to hang up, and then I’ll be fucked. I’m already fucked. This is a last-ditch, desperate attempt at heading off the inevitable, and we both know it.

  “Fine.”

  “What?”

  “I said, fine. I’ll meet you.” He laughs again, like this is the most absurd thing that’s ever happened in his life. That can’t possibly be true. “Where do you want to meet?”

  Why the hell is he letting me choose? It’s all wrong, but I’ve got him on the phone. I’ve come this far. I name a bar a few blocks from the office. It’s a shit place, which should be perfect for a guy like Alex.

  “What time are you free for our little date?” Goosebumps rise up on the backs of my arms, and I look around without turning my head. Is that fucker here right now? I wouldn’t put it past him.

  “One o’clock.”

  “See you then, sweetheart.”

  I’m almost back to the office when I realize it.

  I have another call to make.

  The old Dayton would have walked into this meeting with nobody.

  The new Dayton has a woman to go home to and a baby on the way. I can’t walk in there by myself. I don’t know what I’m going to say to Alex, but even if I say the right things, he still might lose his shit.

  Wes answers on the first ring.

  “This is Wes Sullivan.” His voice is clipped and precise.

  “Where are you?”

  He makes a noise in the back of his throat at the sound of my voice. “That’s a personal question, don’t you think?”

  “Are you on base?” If he’s on base, I’m screwed. It’s a six-hour drive in the middle of the day.

  There’s the sound of traffic in the background. Is it from my end or his? “No.” A gust of wind whistles in my ear, and then it’s quieter.

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m in Newark.”

  “For what?”

  “For some leave time.” Wes doesn’t bother to hide his irritation. “Which you’re interrupting with this asinine phone call. What do you want?”

  I step to the inside of the sidewalk and hold the phone tighter to my ear. “I don’t know why the hell you’d vacation in Newark, but I’m fucking glad.”

  “Why are you—?”

  “I need your help.”

  There’s a long silence.

  “Listen.” I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry I got us blown up in that Humvee. Okay? I’m fucking sorry about it. But there’s some shit happening and I need you for back-up.”

  “You didn’t get us blown up.”

  This is news. “What?”

  “That wasn’t your fault.” Wes is incredulous. “Nobody could have predicted that IED. It was my fault, if it was anyone’s.” He lets out a bitter laugh. “Should have seen it coming. And now you’re missing a fucking foot.”

  I listen hard to what he’s saying right now, like I’m missing something other than a foot. “You’ve hated me all these years for that fucking IED.”

  Wes sighs. “I didn’t hate you, you asshole. I didn’t want a scumbag like me spending time with my sister. Or thinking about her. I know what you’re like. You’re my best friend.” Another pause. “Dumbshit.”

  “Can you come here or not?” I give him the address of where to meet me. “I need you there at twelve-thirty.”

  “That’s an hour and a half from now.”

  “Then you have thirty extra minutes to jerk off, if that’s what you want to do.”

  “You’re very charming, Dayton. Did anyone ever tell you that?”

  “Lots of people. Are you going to be there?”

  “Have I ever let you down?”

  We let that ruminate in the air between us.

  “I’ll be there,” he says finally, and ends the call.

  39

  Summer

  I want to go home.

  More than anything in the world, I want to go home.

  My back is killing me, and even Hazel’s box of doughnuts isn’t making me want to stay at work today. From today, it’s four weeks to my due date.

  “I got you a glazed twist,” Hazel says, lifting up the doughnut on a little paper plate. She holds it up high, like it’s a precious jewel, then laughs and brings it to my desk.

  I smile up at her and rest my arms on my belly. “Thanks. I didn’t have the will to lug myself all the way to your office.”

  She nods wisely. “Next door is pretty far away. If I was in your state, I’d never get out of my chair.”

  “Seriously.”

  “You look tired.”

  “I am tired.” The baby belts out a hard kick, shoving herself upward into my ribs, and I let out a breath that makes Hazel raise her eyebrows. “It’s an all-night party in there.”

  “You know…” She looks from side to side like she’s telling me classified information. “I don’t think anyone would mind if you left early. We can cover for you.”

  “That sounds—” It sounds amazing. It sounds like the world’s greatest gift. I know they’re good for it, too. Heroes on the Homefront is my dream job. I sigh. “It sounds perfect, but I have an appointment at one that I can’t miss.”

  Hazel clicks her tongue. “You’re too dedicated, my friend.”

  “I’ll sneak out after that.”

  “Good idea. Honestly, you look great, but…you also look miserable. I mean that in the nicest way. You’re so gorgeous.”

  I laugh and so does she. “It’s the sentiment that counts.”

  “Need anything else? Bottle of water from the fridge?”

  “You’re an angel. Kind of. But you’re very devilish, too. I mean that in the nicest way.”

  Hazel laughs out loud while she fetches the water, drops it off at my desk, and then goes back to her own office.

  I plan out the rest of my day. She’s right—I am miserable, and I need to go home. It’s not a defined misery, really. I don’t feel bad, just…overwhelmingly heavy. Most of all, I want to be in my apartment. Specifically, I want to be in my bed. I’m not normally a bed person, unless you count the many, many days I could spend there with Dayton, but today is different. Today I feel a powerful pull toward my clean, white sheets. I don’t even care about sleeping. I only want to be snuggled up in the bed.

  It’s weird.

  I glance again at the clock. Fifteen minutes until one.

  I’ve gathered all the possible preliminary paperwork we’ll need. I’m going to knock this one out of the park. So what if I’m exhausted? I saw the worry in Dayton’s eyes when he talked about Curtis. The guy must be in bad shape.

  This is the perfect place for him to come.

  I stack the papers up in a neat pile on my desk and review my talking points. If he needs rehab, I’ve got two standing by to take him. If he needs housing, I have an apartment manager in Brooklyn that’s got a one-bedroom available. If he wants to go to school, I’ve got options for that, too. I’ve even got a couple of job openings on hand to mention.

  “You’re killing it,” I tell myself, then pick up the glazed twist. I haven’t been very hungry this morning, which is strange, but the moment the sugary glaze touches my lips, I’m ravenous. I wolf down the doughnut.

  When I’m done inhaling the sugary confection, I look dow
n at my belly, encased in my finest maternity tank, the silky fabric as business-casual as I could get.

  I’m a mess.

  There are glaze shards everywhere.

  My soul longs to be in my own bed, where I could brush the crumbs onto the sheets with no one the wiser. I wash the sheets every weekend, so who cares?

  I heave myself up from my desk chair and waddle past Hazel’s office. She whips around in her chair at the sound of my footsteps. “Are you leaving?”

  “No.” I gesture to my shirt. “I ate that doughnut like a total savage.”

  “Do you want another one?”

  I have a long way to go to the bathroom, and if I’m going to minimize the number of trips—

  “Sure.” I sit down in her office and let her fawn over me. This one’s chocolate with chocolate frosting. She has one, too. We both eat in silence until the doughnuts are gone.

  “Do you have to pee constantly?” Hazel asks, eyeing my belly.

  “More or less. But it’s a battle, because I don’t want to walk all the way to the bathroom and back.”

  “How much longer do you have?”

  “A month.”

  She shakes her head in solidarity. “That’s a long time.”

  “No shit.”

  That makes her laugh. “You want company?”

  “If you’re going that way.”

  “Come on, girl. You’ve got fifteen minutes left until your meeting. Let’s do this.”

  By the time she drops me off back at my office, I’m energized. “Thanks for the doughnuts.”

  Hazel grins. “I better not see you for very long tomorrow, either.”

  “We’ll see.”

  She gives me the thumbs-up and goes back to her desk.

  I settle in behind my desk, feet aching from the walk down the hall. It’s all going to be worth it. For the baby, of course, but today in particular is going to be worth it. I can already picture Dayton’s face when I tell him about his friend’s new options, how I connected with him during the meeting, how he left with a new lightness in his step and a head full of plans for the future.

  Day will probably be so proud that he insists on taking me somewhere delightful, like the bed. It’s so hot that the air conditioner can hardly keep up, but he’ll help me strip off this tank top and the stretchy bra underneath. I won’t even have to take my own pants off. And even though I’m roughly the size of a blue whale, his dark eyes will burn with intensity when he sees me naked.

  His hands on me…God, I want his hands on me right this moment. He likes to put his palms on my belly and wait for baby girl to kick, but even more than that, he likes—

  “Summer?” Carla raps her knuckles on my doorframe. “You’re one o’clock is here.”

  I stand up from my chair too fast, trying to cover the naughty thoughts I’ve definitely been thinking about Dayton. “Thanks, Carla.” A little bit of heat clings in my cheeks and I press at them with my fingertips, willing them to go away.

  Carla turns and looks over her shoulder. Her smile is her standard welcoming smile, but there’s something in it that makes me think oh, no. Curtis must be having a rough day.

  “Come on in,” she says to Curtis, beckoning him down the hall. “Summer’s office is right here.” She looks back in on me and I mouth thank you. She’s been bringing clients back to my office all week so I don’t have to get up as much. I should get her a gift card to Sephora. She loves that place.

  There’s a muffled thanks. Carla nods her head, gives me a little wave, and steps out of view.

  Curtis comes in and I take a deep breath. It’s hot, but he’s wearing a black hoodie and his gaze is pinned to the floor. “Hi, Curtis. Welcome to Heroes on the Homefront. I’m Summer Sullivan, and—”

  He raises his head.

  It’s not Curtis.

  “I know you who are.” A cruel grin spreads across his face. He reaches behind him and closes the door with a click that seems terribly, terribly final. “Have a seat. We’re going to talk.”

  40

  Dayton

  “I’m not saying I like it.” Wes grimaces into his beer. “I’m saying…I can accept it. For now.” He looks me in the eye. “But if you ever hurt her, I’ll—”

  “I got it.”

  We’re tucked into a dingy side booth at the bar. I’ve got a clear view of the door, and from the entryway, you can’t see if there’s a second person in the booth. To say I’m tense would be an understatement of ridiculous proportions. I’m riding the fine edge between sharp adrenaline focus and an urgent need for action, and here’s Wes, lecturing me about how I’m supposed to treat his sister.

  I let my eyes wander over the bar and move the conversation along. It’s one o’clock now. Alexei isn’t here. In another minute, he’ll be late. “You still thinking about getting out?”

  Wes follows my gaze, doing his own check on the space. Between the two of us, there’s no way we’re missing anything. “Yeah, I—” He shakes his head, his jaw tightening. “Things haven’t been the same since that day.”

  “I’m exactly the same.”

  Wes laughs at the joke, but the look in his eyes is serious. “I should have gotten out when you did.”

  “No reason to. It was still working for you.”

  He scoffs. “It’s not working anymore. The nights—” His voice cuts off abruptly and looks back down into his beer. He gives a short shake of his head and then lifts it to his mouth and takes a deep swig.

  Wes doesn’t need to say anything more. I know about the nights.

  But we’re here in broad daylight now, and there’s a more pressing issue: Alexei still isn’t here.

  I check the time and snap, I’m back on full alert.

  Not only is Alexei not here, I don’t have the feeling he’s going to be here.

  Wes shifts in his seat. “One o’clock, right?”

  “Yes.”

  I told him the Cliffs Notes version of the story, leaving out the parts where Alexei came after Summer. That would have had him on the hunt for this guy, and that’s the last thing anybody needs.

  “He’s late.”

  “Yeah.”

  Wes looks out across the bar again. “Something’s not right.”

  The bar itself isn’t right. It’s a shitty place, mostly empty, though it’s the middle of the afternoon, so I wasn’t expecting a crowd. The bartender leans against the bar, staring at his phone.

  My own phone rings. It’s the number for Heroes on the Homefront. Oh, shit. I don’t want to lie to Summer about this, but what if something’s happening? This late in the pregnancy, the chance of baby-related events goes up every minute.

  “Are you going to get that?”

  “Watch the door.” Wes turns dutifully toward the front of the bar, his knees poking out of the booth. I pick up the phone and swipe to answer the call. “Hello?”

  “Dayton? Mr. Nash?”

  The voice on the other end of the line is shaken, almost breathless. It’s not Summer.

  “This is.” It sounds like the receptionist. Shit. What’s her name?

  “This is Carla calling from Heroes on the Homefront.” Her voice is trembling, panicked. “Mr. Nash, I—” She can’t get the words out.

  I stand up from the table, and even though my fist is clenched tightly around the phone, even though my shoulders are pricking with icy goosebumps, I marvel at how it feels to stand up with no pain. “Carla, take a deep breath.”

  She obeys, her breath hissing into the phone.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Dayton, we have a situation at the office.” She sounds marginally more even-keeled, but all I need is information. I snap my fingers in front of Wes’s face. He’s on his feet in an instant.

  I head for the door of the bar.

  Fuck Alexei.

  Fuck this meeting.

  If something’s happening to Summer—

  I twist around. Wes tosses a twenty onto the surface of the table and follows me, h
is mouth set in a grim line.

  “Okay. What’s the situation?”

  “Summer—she—” And then there it is from Carla, a muffled, terrified sob.

  I choke back an irritation bordering on rage. “Carla, you need to tell me what’s happening. I can be there in twenty minutes. Or I can go to the hospital. Tell me what’s happening.”

  She takes a shuddering breath. “She had an appointment at one o’clock. The man—I think his name is Curtis—has shut himself in her office.”

  This makes zero sense.

  “Is she with him?”

  “He says he’s got a gun, Dayton.”

  I have a moment of vertigo as I shove my way out onto the sidewalk into the heat. The sidewalk sways beneath me and Wes’s hand comes down hard on my shoulder, holding me up.

  “He won’t let anyone in. He won’t let her out.”

  “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  I end the call with a furious stab.

  “What’s happening?”

  Guilt and fury cascade down the length of my spine. This is my fault. I never should have let her go to the office alone. I should have made her stay home. I should have stayed the fuck away from her when I had the chance to—

  “Day!” Wes’s voice is sharp and clear. “Snap out of it. What’s happening?”

  “Alexei. He’s not here, because he’s at Summer’s office. He’s taken her hostage.”

  The blood drains from Wes’s face, his expression hardening into something so deadly the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

  Then he turns on his heel and steps directly out into the traffic. I can’t believe that anyone would stop for him, with a look like that on his face, but seconds later a yellow cab pulls up to the curb. Wes turns back to me and I feel myself shift. The panic melts away, and all that’s left is a steely determination.

  I don’t care if I die. All I care about is getting to Summer.

  Wes climbs into the back of the cab and beckons me in beside him. “Give him the address,” he barks.