by Gwyn McNamee
“Then, go sell used cars for all I care. But if I see your name on one fucking campaign sign, everything that you’ve done goes public, and you will have to deal not only with the authorities but with Dom too.” He knows Dom would kill him before he would let any of the information Dani has be released to the media. Our deal with them works because Dom polices my father better than the actual police could.
Silence lingers on the other end of the line, and I almost hang up.
“I can’t believe you would treat your own father this way.”
I scoff and let the ice cold I feel in my veins pour out into my words. “You were never my father.”
Hanging up on him feels good—really, really fucking good. That man has never been anything more to me than a sperm donor, and the last thing I need right now is to worry about him. I pushed him out of my life at eighteen, and I want him to stay out.
Shoving my hands back through my hair, I know there’s only one thing that will help me regain my sanity, at least temporarily, until I can meet with Doc and try to find a more permanent solution. I pick up my phone and make another call. I need another type of appointment.
I would have much rather spent my day off in bed with Gabe, but he never would have gone for it. Savage would never let him get away with missing work unless he were on his death bed, and then he would have come over to see what was up.
Just imagining the look on his face if he had come in and found me riding Gabe makes me chuckle as I pull into the parking lot of my gym.
A good run is just what I need. Pounding out stress on the pavement always helps me clear my head and explore everything from a different perspective. But the wet streets aren’t conducive to an outdoor run, so the track is calling my name. A few years ago, I would have gone straight to Star and dished every single detail about what happened with Gabe. Talking things out with her always helped me find a clear path through any bullshit.
Now that she’s gone, I’m left with my running shoes and my own over-crowded head. I can’t even bear to swim anymore, other than the cooling dips in Mom’s pool. Swimming laps just reminds me of competing with and against Star, and the last thing I need is another reminder of what I lost.
I glance down at my phone before I get out of my car.
Come on, Gabe.
The text that tells me he finally came clean about us to Savage hasn’t come yet. I didn’t push the issue before I left this morning. In fact, I thought he would probably need a little time alone to process everything, so I slipped out while he was showering.
With everything else going on with him, it’s probably best not to stress him out further by putting a deadline on it. But the longer we put it off, the weirder and more taxing it’s going to get for Gabe, and stress is the last thing he needs right now.
I’m tempted to shoot him a message to see how he’s doing, but that would be desperate and clingy, right?
Shit, Star, I could really use some advice at the moment.
My phone goes in my gym bag before I can do something stupid. A wet blast of air strikes me when I open my door, and I shiver. The darkening sky and whipping winds are just a precursor to the real storm if it makes it here; it’s already packed a wallop in the Caribbean and has started in on Florida. We haven’t been struck with a hurricane since Isaac in 2012, but it looks like Hera could pack a punch if it hits us directly.
We should know by tomorrow or Saturday where she’s headed.
Riding the storm out with Gabe would be ideal—I can think of a hundred ways to pass the time—but I know he would never go for it. Even if he does tell Savage today, chances are he’ll want to ease him into the idea of there being an “us” instead of smacking him in the face with it. Besides, I would never leave Mom alone during a storm. As much as we butt heads, and as much as the thought of being stuck alone with her for potentially a couple days makes me shudder, she’s still my mother, and no matter what anyone thinks, I love her.
I turn to shut my door and catch a skittering of movement in my peripheral vision. When I look again, it’s gone, but the hairs on the back of my neck raise, and the uneasy feeling of being watched rolls through me.
It’s probably just some creep hanging out to see girls in yoga pants.
The race into the building to avoid being soaked is quick. I shake the water off my jacket once inside the door and make my way to the locker room.
Just as I’m about to close the door on my locker, my phone rings in my bag.
“Shit.”
I rummage around until I find it at the bottom and see it’s Stone.
“Hey, baby brother. What’s up?”
“Hey sis. I just got off the phone with Mom, letting her know I’m not going to make it out this weekend. With the storm looking like it may hit there, it just doesn’t make sense. Chances are my flight would get cancelled anyway, so I’ll just save my ticket and use it later.”
Damn.
I really need some time with Stone, the only remaining member of the family who doesn’t continuously drive me insane.
“Well, that sucks. Don’t you have some business or something going on with Dom?”
“Uh, yeah, but it can wait a bit.”
I pause, waiting for him to expand. He doesn’t, and I know better than to pry into his or Dom’s business. “I was really looking forward to seeing you.”
He chuckles. “Why? What did you do?”
I drop down onto the bench in the locker room and check out my manicure. “What makes you think I did something?”
“Because I know you. What, did you get fired?”
“Ha, that’s a funny question coming from you. Last I heard, you were fucking up on the job and were about to get canned.”
A grunt is the only response I get, and I can picture him, reclining in his office chair, feet kicked up on his desk, scowling as if I can actually see him from across the country. “Have no fear, sis, still gainfully employed here.”
“Well, that’s good to know. Same.”
“What about that guy you were seeing? What was his name again?”
I cringe and drop my head back, rolling my neck to work out the kinks. “Lucas. And things are…complicated.”
“Complicated? Sounds like there’s a story there.”
Fuck.
Do I tell him about Gabe? He, of anyone in the family, should understand that sometimes, decisions are made and things happen that are completely unexpected. Stone is the king of unforeseen consequences. He should get it, right?
I have to tell someone.
“Shit, Stone, you can’t say anything to anyone. I’m serious.”
“I’m crossing my heart as we speak. Besides, attorney-client privilege and all that crap.”
I bite my lip and contemplate my words carefully. Finally, I decide being direct is probably the best way to go.
“So…shit…um, well, I slept with Gabe.”
There’s a long pause before his laugh echoes over the line. “Ho. Ly. Shit!” I can practically feel his chest vibrating through the phone. “I have never been so happy to be across the country. I wouldn’t want to be within a hundred miles when Savage finds out about this.”
I always feel like a complete psycho carrying two Starbucks venti cups into the cemetery. But I promised Star I would bring her a caramel macchiato every time I came to see her. I guess it’s not any crazier than sitting outside the family tomb, talking out loud as if she can hear and answer me.
After my conversation with Stone, I knew I needed to come see her. With the potential storm approaching, this might be my only opportunity to talk with her for a while. At least the rain stopped for a while so I won’t get drenched while I’m out here.
I weave my way through rows of tombs, vaults, and copings in the St. Roch Cemetery. The path I take to our family tomb is always the same. Carmen, one of the groundskeepers, waves at me as he walks down a parallel row.
The first time he found me sobbing outside the tomb, mere days after we int
erred Star, I didn't know how I was going to go on with my life. Carmen had walked over and placed an arm around my shoulders, offering me comfort even though I was a complete stranger. I'm sure he'd seen a thousand people just like me, distraught and hysterical before a grave, but he made me feel as though he understood my pain by simply being there and not even saying a word. He probably thinks the Starbucks thing is insane too, but he keeps his mouth shut about it because I always remove it before I leave.
“Hawke” is emblazoned in the granite on the front of the tomb. My father’s name—Samuel—sits below the names of his parents who died before I was even born. I always feel weird coming to talk to Star and not saying anything to Dad, so I give my customary “hi, Dad,” before setting the Starbucks on the step in front of the tomb.
Reading Star’s name carved into the granite never fails to send shivers up my spine. I don't know if I'll ever be able to accept the fact she’s truly gone. Even though I no longer feel the connection we had when Star was alive, I still sense her presence every day and know she’ll always be a part of me. Maybe that will never change. I sure hope it doesn’t.
My chest aches and tears well up in my eyes. I turn my back to the tomb and wipe them away before taking a seat on the concrete wall across the aisle from where she lies.
“Hey Star, you're never gonna believe what happened. Well, actually, you probably would've expected this. You probably would’ve seen this coming a mile away if you would have seen the way things have been since the wedding.” I take a sip of my sugary coffee and stare at her name on the stone, picturing the way her eyes would widen waiting for me to continue. “I slept with Gabe—multiple times.”
Images of our bodies entwined and heaving in ecstasy flit through my head and heat my skin even in the damp air. “I don’t even know how it happened, he just showed up at my place and said we needed to talk. He wanted to clear the air about the kiss because things have been fucking awkward and tense between us. But instead of talking, we ended up fucking on the kitchen counter while we let the cookies I was baking burn to a crisp.”
I chuckle because Star would be absolutely rolling at that mental picture. “The smoke detector was wailing, and we just kept going at it like two dogs in heat.”
Very, very horny dogs.
“And God, Star, it was fucking amazing. Even though it was hard and fast, it was everything I always thought it would be. Shit, Star, I love him. You’ve always known that. And I should be happy I finally got what I wanted, I finally have him. But…”
I think back to last night and this morning, the haunted look in his eyes and the way he completely disconnected from himself.
“…I’m worried. He pulled out the lighter you gave him. I know he put it away a while ago. It’s been six months since he quit the last time. But I smelled it the other night and this morning when I got up, he was smoking in the condo, and he had the lighter sitting next to him. I've never seen him look that lost. There’s something going on with him. Something more than just being concerned about how Savage will react when he finds out.”
Although, that’s definitely something to worry about. Savage isn’t exactly known for his calm, even temper.
“Whatever this is, it’s been going on for a while. It's something in his eyes. There’s something dark there. It reminds me of when he first came back, you know, when things were just a little off. If you were here, you would help me figure it out or you might even already know what's going on. You were always better at reading him than I was. I know he talked to you back then. You were the only person he spoke to about whatever was weighing on him. God, I was so fucking jealous of you for that.”
Gabe had always confided in Star. Everyone did. She was the perfect listener and the perfect advice-giver. “Wise beyond her years,” is what Mom always said. And talking to her was like being in a fucking confessional—nothing you told her ever left her lips. The things she knew about and never mentioned to anyone would probably blow my mind.
I did my best to try to pry it out of her, especially things Gabe told her. But, she maintained her vow of secrecy, even when I tried to invoke the twin code. I wonder if she would have kept her silence if Gabe spilled to her now.
“Whatever is happening, it’s part of why he’s fighting this so hard. It’s not just because of Savage. There's something deeper there, something that’s eating away at him. He's not talking to me about it. I think part of him still sees me as the immature, irresponsible little girl he used to rescue whenever we would get in trouble. Well, when I would get in trouble and drag you along.”
I pause to take a couple sips of my drink and scan the cemetery. A group of tourists wanders by a bisecting row, snapping pictures on their way to the chapel.
My eyes burn with renewed unshed tears. “He was always there for us, and I feel so fucking helpless seeing him like this and not being able to do anything. Why won’t he confide in me? I know he’s having nightmares, and he thinks he’s going to hurt me. But he won’t tell me what they’re about or what I can do to help him besides give him a hole to stick his cock into.”
That comes out more bitter than I intended it. “Shit, I know he doesn’t think of me like that. And I love that I can give him something to take his mind off whatever is eating away at him, but this morning…it was like he was trying to fuck away his demons. That scares the crap out of me. Not because I think he would ever hurt me, but because I’m worried he’s going to hurt himself.”
The tears flow now, and I don’t bother trying to stop them this time. If anything ever happened to Gabe, I know I wouldn’t make it. I thought losing Star was the worst thing that would or could ever happen to me, but the thought of losing Gabe, of never seeing his sexy smirk or bright eyes again, steals my fucking breath.
“God Star, just tell me what to do. Should I just sit down with Savage and tell him everything even though that's not what Gabe wants? Would that help Gabe get through whatever is going on with him by removing the biggest obstacle for us? Or should I follow his lead and hide in the shadows? I don't want to live in the shadows. I’ve existed in one giant shadow since you died. And I'm just fucking sick of it.”
I take another drink of my coffee and stare up at the sky. The dark, ominous clouds send a shudder down my spine. They say that there's only a fifty percent chance of the storm hitting us. But I've heard that before, and I have a bad feeling about this one. We’re gonna have to start preparing soon. And hope there aren't any evacuations.
“It looks like the storm is moving in. I'm sure Savage will have a fucking meltdown if the hurricane hits with Dani being this pregnant. I probably shouldn't give them anything else to worry about until at least the storm has passed. But Jesus, everything is so fucked up…I just don't know what to do anymore. I’d give anything to have you here. Please, tell me what to do.”
Of course, I get no answer. I’m still alone and adrift without a lifejacket with the storm barreling down on us.
The buzz and whir of the tattoo machine and the constant prick of the needle against my skin lull me into a sort of semi-coma. I’m never more relaxed than when sitting in the chair getting inked.
Not even an orgasm can satiate me the way the pain does.
Although, coming inside Skye comes pretty damn close.
Christ, that woman…
But I’m here to try to forget about that, about her, at least for a few more hours.
The fact that I was even able to get in today is a fucking miracle. Jeremy books weeks and sometimes months in advance, but he knows me well enough to know when I call and say I need him right away, it’s desperate times. I almost feel bad about the clients he probably cancelled on to squeeze me in. Almost.
I was lucky to find him all those years ago. A friend of mine had some great work done and told me to go see him when I was looking to get my virgin skin inked after my first deployment. It took us almost a year to finish what we started that day—a sleeve that runs from the top of my left shoulder all the
way down over my forearm to my wrist.
The mock armor starts at my shoulder with a Mandala. Drawing a Mandala during meditation is meant to focus the mind but also acts as a protective space in which the meditator can reside. Focus was essential to my job, and the idea of finding somewhere protected held a deep meaning for me no one could ever understand.
Palden Lhamo dominates my bicep. Despite her frightening appearance, she is a mother protector deity in Tibetan Buddhism. The snarling face represents the ferocity with which humans must resist temptation to stray from being true to themselves and remaining true to their principles. It was so easy to lose myself doing what I did every day. The struggle was constant, and she was a perpetual reminder not to let anything steer me away from what I knew was right.
My forearm bears Chinese Foo Dogs—protectors that reside outside the entrances to homes and palaces. They are a mated pair—the left, male, the right, female. Both foo dogs have orbs under their paws. The male's orb contains geometric designs, which represent the structure itself, his domain of protection. The female has a cub under her paw. The cub represents the people and children within the home, her domain of protection. This portion represents the Hawkes, the only true family I’ve ever known. They took me into their home and accepted me as one of them when I believed I was alone in this world. Mrs. Hawke has been my constant protector and source of strength. With this permanently inked into my skin, I was always reminded I was not alone, and that they would always be waiting for me when I returned.
Over the years, he’s added several other pieces to my body. The koi on my left ribcage was next. The Chinese legend of the Dragon Gate tells of the koi fish swimming upstream, through waterfalls and other obstacles to reach the top of the mountain where the Dragon Gate sat. When the koi finally reached the top, it became a dragon, one of the most auspicious creatures in Chinese culture. Because of this, the koi represents strength, determination, and perseverance in the face of adversity. That’s how I always saw Mrs. Hawke. She was left to raise five children alone and still managed to offer love and affection to the little boy from down the street, defending me just as fiercely as she did her own children.
