by Marie James
My eyes swim, clouded by the alcohol, but I swear the woman that has stepped into my line of sight is the angel I didn’t know I’ve been waiting for all my life. She’s the healing balm to every wound opened up by my enemies and the woman I thought I’d spend my forever with.
“Makayla,” I whisper, even though she’s frowning down at the empty glass in my hands.
“May I?” she asks motioning to my glass.
I hand it over willingly, knowing I’d give her anything she asks for. Hell, I’d offer her my entire world for her to feel just an ounce of what I feel for her.
She takes the proffered glass and fills it half full from the bottle on the coffee table. With a soft huff, she sits beside me on the couch. Even drunk, I don’t miss the purposeful four inches that separate us. I hate the distance, hate how easily she can just move on from what we’ve been building the last month.
“I set your suitcase outside of the door,” I inform her. Kid dropped it off earlier, and I knew she had everything she owns packed in it.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “I didn’t bother unpacking it because I know we’ll be leaving tomorrow.”
The news hits me in the chest like a ten ton weight.
“How is Jasmine?”
“She’s asleep,” Mak says. “I don’t think she’s had a very good night’s sleep in a long time.”
I want to tell her I haven’t either, that sleep has been elusive for weeks now, but I remain quiet. Guilting her into giving me what I need goes against everything I am.
“We’ll be out of your hair first thing in the morning,” she says looking down into the amber liquid in the tumbler. “I was hoping you could give us a ride to the bus station.”
“I can’t,” I answer before her request is even fully out of her mouth.
She nods. “Thought I’d ask. I understand if you have other things going on. It’s rude of me to ask for more after you’ve done so much.”
“I want you to stay,” I confess. “Both of you. I want you to stay here.”
“For how long?” Her voice is strained, filled with emotion she’s not trying to show.
“Forever,” I offer.
She shakes her head making me want to grab her by the chin, force her to look me in the eye so she can see the sincerity in my proposition.
“I’ve burdened you enough,” she says, voice so low I can barely hear her. “The last thing you need is me and a little girl cramping your style any longer.”
“I want you here.” I can hear the plea in my voice, and I wonder if she can too.
“You helped me when I needed it most, Dom. For that, I’ll always be grateful, but you don’t need to offer your home out of some sense of chivalry or obligation.” She takes a breath as if it pains her to be saying the words. “We’ll be fine on our own.”
She’s just not getting it. I’m the drunk one, and she’s oblivious to everything. Maybe I’m not explaining myself in a way she understands.
“I love you, Mak.” She stiffens beside me. Now she’s picking up what I’m throwing down. “I don’t know when it happened, but there it is.”
She huffs a quick laugh. “Please don’t,” she begs. “You need to stop.”
“Stop? Like what, Makayla? Just unlove you?” I laugh trying to bring some levity to the conversation.
My hands are sweaty, and regardless of all of the liquid I’ve been drinking since she made me leave her bed last night, my mouth is strangely dry.
“It doesn’t work that way, baby.” I reach for her, wanting her warm skin against mine, but she skirts the contact and stands from the couch. “Does it scare you? I’ll be honest. It scares the shit out of me, but I can’t stop it and I sure as fuck don’t want to.”
“Don’t,” she pleads again, this time lifting her hands to her head, the words I thought every woman wanted to hear seeming to cause her actual physical pain. “Don’t try to manipulate me. I get it. You’re protective. You doubt that I can make it on my own, but I’ll be fine without you.”
I have no doubt that she can make it on her own, but the thought of her having to does something to me. Loving her and knowing she’s out alone in the world, taking on the obligation of raising a child, kills me inside.
“Are you kidding me?” My voice is low, but keeping all of the anger that’s beginning to build at bay is damn near impossible.
“I won’t raise Jasmine in an unstable home, Dom. You may think this is what you want, and I’m betting your unprovoked admission has more to do with the liquor you’ve been draining from that bottle and less to do with truth.” She points at the near empty bottle for emphasis. “I will not let her get comfortable here only for you to change your damn mind when you get tired of me and my baggage.”
“You’ve got it all wrong.” I rake my hands through my head when I really want to flip the coffee table over and pin her to the wall until she believes the truth spewing from my lips.
“They really fucked you up didn’t they? You can’t even see a good thing when it’s right in front of your damn face.”
I look up to find her pissed, chest heaving up and down, hands clenched at her sides. “Throw that shit in my face, asshole. Real gentlemanly of you.”
I reach for her a second time. For the second time, she rejects my touch.
“I need you here with me, Mak.”
She shakes her head again.
“I love you.”
“Until you don’t. Until the girls at the clubhouse seem like a better idea than coming home to the ready-made family you’ve decided was more to take on than you imagined it would be the night you got drunk and spewed shit you didn’t mean.”
Is she right? The words didn’t want to seep out until right now, until I let myself understand that if I didn’t do something she was going to leave.
“I can already see the indecision on your face, Dominic. Just go with those thoughts.” She turns to leave. “I’ll have a cab take us to the bus station in the morning. Thank you for your hospitality.”
If we were alone in this house, if her eight-year-old little sister wasn’t in the other room, I’d chase her down the hallway and make her listen to reason. I’d tie her to my bed and rock in and out of her until she panted those three little words in my ear.
But that’s not possible because Jasmine is in the house and tomorrow they will be gone. Tomorrow Makayla Evans will walk away from my home and away from New Mexico fully aware that she’s carrying my heart with her. She’s not aware of my past. Yeah, I told her that I kept the old photo album to remind me that love doesn’t really exist that happiness is a fairy tale that never lives up to the hype. Surely she also knows that I’m an idiot and an asshole and I was covering for the pain and shitty hand I was dealt with my first love.
I can’t persuade her of that now, though. She’s locked in her bedroom, a room I’d never invade with her sister in there. I’m drunk, but still not drunk enough to deal with the sting her dismissal has caused all the way to my battered soul. I scoop up the nearly empty bottle. I debate on just turning it up until I spot the glass. Settling back on the couch, I pour the whiskey into the tumbler, not because I’m refined and it’s rude to drink from the bottle but because that’s where her mouth was only minutes ago. I get the feeling this is as close to her lips as I’ll ever get again.
Chapter 39
Makayla
I stretch in the bed, still exhausted from a fitful sleep, my mind still turns over the dream that was on repeat in my mind last night. I walked away from Dom each time, leaving him at my back, begging me to stay. Today I will do it for real, the dream only preparing me in the worst way, only giving me foresight into how much it’s going to hurt.
I shriek when I open my eyes to find Jasmine sitting Indian style on the corner of the bed, watching me sleep. It’s unsettling, but I know exactly why she’s doing it. I had to do the same thing as a child with my own mother who insisted I leave her alone until she woke. If I didn’t, I knew the whole day wou
ld be bad, filled with yelling and agitation.
“Why didn’t you wake me?” I ask.
She frowns, as if I already know the answer and I’m somehow testing her.
I reach my arms out to her and cuddle her to my chest. “You can wake me, Jasmine. If you’re hungry or want to talk. You don’t have to be afraid.”
I feel her smile against my neck, and even in my sadness over what the day will bring, I smile, too.
“I saw the pool outside,” she whispers. “Think I can go for a swim?”
I laugh. “It is way too cold for that, but how about when we get to where we’re going I find a hotel with an indoor pool and you can swim as much as you want.”
She pulls her face from mine and peers down at me. “I’d like that a lot.”
“We need to get packed.”
She shifts away from me and sits back on her heels, biting at the cuticle of one of her fingers.
I pull her hand from her mouth, knowing it’s her tell. She wants to say something, but she’s wary of my response.
“You can speak your mind, sweetheart.” I hold her hand in mine and can feel it twitch with the urge to raise it back to her mouth.
“I can wait until it’s warm,” she begins. “I mean if we stay here, I don’t mind waiting.”
I try to hide my sigh. I feel like I’m disappointing her already.
“I like it here,” she whispers.
“I do too, but this isn’t our house. We’ll find a new house, and you’ll love it there just as much. I promise.”
She nods, but I can tell she realizes that the home we find will be nothing of this caliber. I wish I could find a way to explain to her that a nice house isn’t everything and I want her to be in a home filled with love and patience. I’m not certain that this house will stay that way. It’s better for us to cut our losses and find a house for just the two of us. My gut clenches at the idea of leaving New Mexico, leaving Dominic.
I sit up and toss the blankets back. “I could use your help getting packed.”
She smiles at being needed. “Can we get a puppy?”
I love that she’s able to let go of disappointment and look into the future. “You think you’re responsible enough to take care of an animal? Maybe we should start with a hamster or something?”
“A dog will be able to protect me,” she offers.
She’s breaking my heart. “You don’t have to worry about that anymore, Jasmine. We’ll be safe.”
“I feel safe here,” she offers.
“Me too,” I whisper as I pull the suitcase, still packed from the clubhouse out from under the bed.
“Where are we going?”
I have no clue kiddo. “Where would you like to go?”
“I get to pick?” Her smile spans her face and eyes sparkle with being part of the decision-making. “Well, if we can’t stay here, I think we’d do good in Ireland.”
I laugh at her dream destination. I’d love to live there myself.
“We may need to pick something in the United States first,” I counter.
Packing takes all of five minutes as we continue to discuss where we may end up. She’s leaning toward Wyoming, but the thought of traveling through Colorado to get there makes my skin crawl. I explain we may need to try something a little further east, maybe Ohio. She isn’t very interested in that but is willing to settle on Florida.
“We wouldn’t even need a pool if we lived near the beach,” she bargains. Her compromise when I told her Florida is going to be very expensive.
Can’t argue with her reasoning. She hasn’t really spoken about her mom, but I know she’s hurting. Therapy is going to be another must whenever we get settled. I want her healthy, and that includes her mental health.
“Are we going to fly?” she asks as she zips the suitcase.
I remember then that the thing belongs to Dom and here I am being presumptuous that it’s okay for me to take all of the things he’s bought. I have a duffel bag of cash provided by my brother, but not one item of clothing except the boots on my feet are mine.
“I think we’ll take a bus.”
Her face falls. “I’ve never flown on a plane.”
“Me either, but I think being able to say we’ve been to all of the states we’ll ride to is pretty cool,” I say hoping she buys it. There’s no way I can get through security at the airport with all the cash I have. Plus, the TSA are assholes, and I hate cops. Avoiding them at all costs, even if it means spending days on a crowded bus, is my plan.
“Can we get a map? And I can color all the states as we go through them?” She claps her hands together, appeased by the prospect I’ve suggested.
“Perfect plan,” I say. “Now jump in the shower. We may not get a really good bath until we get to where we’re going.”
“Florida?” she pleas.
“Sure, sweetheart. We can live in Florida.”
She squeals like the eight-year-old she is and heads to the bathroom. I wait for her, sitting on the edge of the bed and running our plans through my mind. If we can make it to Tampa or Miami, I know I can get a pretty decent job waitressing or tending bar. I’d fit right in with the crowds there, my pink hair helping rather than hindering opportunities like they would’ve in Ohio. I pull the burner Dom gave me and call to order a cab, but leave it on the bedside table when I’m done. I may take the clothes because I need them, but bringing the phone will only make me want to contact him, and the only way I can walk away and stay gone is cutting him out completely.
Calmness settles over me after making plans. Something to work toward, plans for our future soothe the anxiety that has been creeping in since Jasmine showed up yesterday.
She’s dressed, but still running a towel over her hair when she steps out of the bathroom.
“There’s one other thing we need to talk about,” I say as she sits on the floor to pull on her shoes. “When we leave here today we will no longer be Makayla and Jasmine.”
Tears immediately pool in her blue eyes. “I like my name.” The croak in her voice pains me. “You said we were safe. If we have to change our names, it means we’re not safe.”
“Changing our names is what will keep us safe.” The new identities have more to do with the enemies the Renegades have all over the place than a need to make a fresh start. “Scorpion wants to make sure no one bothers us when we get to Florida.”
She nods, understanding fully. She’s seen too much of the stuff going on at the club to not comprehend the need for change. “What will my name be?”
“I’m Pamela Isley, and you’re my daughter Lillian Isley.” I do my best to keep the sneer off of my face. Not only did my brother name us both after DC Comic’s Poison Ivy, playing on my club name, the asshole also made me four years older. I know he did it because of Jasmine’s age, but it still bothers me.
“Can you call me Lilly?” I nod. Her eyes fill with love. “And I get to call you Mom?”
“I’d love that.”
“Me too,” she whispers as her eyes lower to finish tying her shoes.
“Ready?” I ask slapping my hands on my knees before standing from the end of the bed.
“Yep.” She rises from the floor. I give her the handle of my suitcase to pull behind her and grab the two duffel bags.
I was hoping that Dom would be gone, or in his room when we left, but his boots on the coffee table as we round the end of the hall come into view.
He’s on his feet the second we enter the living room. The sway in his gait from last night is gone. He looks exhausted, but he’s no longer drunk. His sobriety and ability to think straight will hopefully make leaving a little easier.
I swallow roughly when my eyes meet his. Sadness not acceptance fills his eyes, and I know this is going to be harder than I ever could’ve imagined.
“Hey, Jasmine,” he says offering his hand. “We didn’t really get to meet yesterday. I’m Dominic.”
She smiles at him but stays behind me, reaching her hand around my
legs to shake his. She’s tiny in comparison, her hand getting lost in his. “Call me Lilly.”
His eyes meet mine in understanding. He’s well aware of the shit storm that surrounds my brother.
He smiles back down, releasing her hand. “Nice to meet you, Lilly.”
“And you are?” he asks reaching to shake my hand as well.
I shake my head, refusing his request. I can’t tell him my new name, can’t tell him where we’re going. I can’t take the chance that he’ll try to track us down. When I leave his house, I don’t plan to ever look back, and he needs to get in the same mindset.
“She’s Mom,” Jasmine offers.
He gives her a sad smile before looking back up to me.
“Mom,” he says softly, letting it play over his tongue. “That sounds perfect.”
Tension is building, and I haven’t a clue what he’s going to say next, so I bend at the knees and speak to my sister. “How about you keep an eye out front for the cab?”
She smiles and heads to the front door, pulling the suitcase behind her.
“I left money on the dresser for the clothes and suitcase,” I tell him once I’m standing again.
“I don’t want your money, Mak.” His warm hand runs the length of my arm, and I allow it, drinking in his touch one final time. “I want you.”
I shake my head. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”
“Stay,” he begs. “Let me love you, let me love her. I’ll never stop loving you, baby. I heard every word you said last night. I’d never grow tired of you. I’d never want another woman if I know you’re here. I wouldn’t be at the clubhouse looking to climb in bed with anyone else because you’d be sitting on my lap while I’m there.”
I shake my head again. I know he’s saying all of the right things but words mean nothing.
“I’ll be a good dad to her, Mak. Let me show you.”
“Cab’s here,” Jasmine says.
Tears are streaming down my face when I turn from him.
“I love you,” he calls after me when I shuffle my sister out the door and down to the cab.
“I’ll always love you,” he yells as my chest constricts.
