by BT Urruela
Copyright © 2016 BT URRUELA
All Rights Reserved
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely co-incidental.
Any opinions expressed in this book are solely those of the author.
Photographer: Furious Fotog & CJC Photography
Front Cover Model: Tessi Leanne
Back Cover Models: Gideon Connelly, Sam Ashley, Rob Somers & Golden Czermak
Cover Designer: Cover Me Darling
Editor: Proof Before You Publish
Interior Design and Formatting: Champagne Formats
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Warning
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Epilogue One
Epilogue Two
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Other Books
This book is dedicated to the victims of abuse. Don’t ever be ashamed of who you are and don’t ever feel ashamed for telling your story. We are victims, yes, but we are also survivors. Share what you’ve been through, own your strength, and help those still going through it. You can change a life through your honesty.
Warning
This book may contain potential triggers for people who have suffered traumatic experiences. Reader discretion is advised.
Present
“Baby?” I ask, sitting up in bed with the phone to my ear, and reaching over with my other hand to switch the light on.
I can hear her, but nothing she’s saying makes sense… just gut-wrenching sobs. She gasps for air between her cries, trying to speak, but nothing comes out.
“Baby, what’s wrong? Talk to me, please!” I plead, dropping my head in my hand.
She tries, but she can’t. It sounds as if she’s choking.
“Paige, baby, please!”
“My dad…” she finally forces out between wretched cries. She doesn’t have to say anything else, I already know, and my heart breaks for her. I don’t let her finish. She doesn’t have to.
“Oh, my god, Paige, I’m so, so sorry.” Her crying is uncontrollable now. It rips my heart right out of my chest. To think I am here, trying to salvage a relationship with my sister when Paige has lost everyone she’s ever loved. The guilt is crippling, constricting my chest and making it hard to breathe through the tightness in my throat.
“He…he hung himself. He left a note on the door. I didn’t listen…I should’ve listened,” she says, her voice trembling.
She bawls again, mumbling incoherent words. I can hear Irish and Brandi in the background consoling her.
“Baby, don’t say another word. I’m coming. I’ll hit the road tonight and be there in the morning.”
“Xander, honey, you can’t,” she says, her voice shaking. “Your sister.”
“You don’t need to worry about that. Baby… I don’t even know what to say. I’m so fucking sorry. I’m coming to you. I can’t let you do this alone. Not anymore.”
She stifles her cries and clears her throat. Speaking with authority this time, she says, “Xander… I love you so much. There’s nothing I want more than to be in your arms and to forget any of this ever happened, but it just can’t be. First off, Brandi and Chase are here. They’ve got me. Second, your sister is in trouble. You need to be there for her.”
“I need to be there for you, Paige!”
“Well… she needs you too. This… this was a long time coming. I fought so hard to break him of his misery. So hard. I guess just not hard enough.”
“Paige.” I pause, needing so badly to see her beautiful eyes staring back at me. To touch her, hold her and to never let her go again. “I need you,” I continue. “I need to see you. I need to know you’ll be okay.” The realization that Jack is gone sweeps over me, a complete sadness which makes me hurt that much harder for Paige. Though I knew him for only a short time, he had an incredible impact on me. Teresa and Jack showed we what it meant to belong to a real family. And through them, I met Paige, which is something I will forever be grateful for.
“I will be, Xander. Somehow…” I can hear the tears beginning again, but she breathes in deep, fighting them off. “I’m going to bury my father, remove myself from this horrible fucking town, and I’ll meet you up there.” She pauses, taking another long, deep breath. “Baby, I could never give up on us,” she says, bringing tears to my eyes. How I wish I could be there with her. “As much as I want to quit right now, as much as that seems like the best way to ease this pain, I know I was put on this earth for you, and you were put on this earth for me. I’ll never give up on you because I know you’d never give up on me. We’re forever.”
“God, Paige,” I say, a lump wedging its way into my throat. “I love you so fucking much. You know that?” I ask, wishing there was more I could say. Something stronger. Something that could take it all away, but there’s nothing. She is broken, and only time can fix that. Time, and all the fucking love I can give her.
“Of course I know. I love you too, baby. Always and forever,” she whispers.
“Always and forever.” I pause, my eyes closed and the tears steady now. I breathe through the pain in my chest, knowing immediately what I must do. And knowing without a doubt in this fucking world. “I’ll see you soon, baby,” I reply, as the line clicks off.
Immediately, I pack my backpack, slip out of the motel room, and hop on my Harley. With a rumble of the engine and slow roll onto the road, I start the seventeen-hour journey back to Paige, back to the woman I love… to mend her broken heart just as she once mended mine.
Two weeks earlier
I miss Paige. I’ve missed her desperately since I took off on the back of this hog a couple of days ago. After being a prisoner for so long, without choices or say, it feels damn good to be on the open road, seeing parts of the country I’ve never seen before. The endless rows of corn in Kansas; the wide-open nothingness of South Dakota; the rising rocks of western Wyoming gutting the horizon. They’re breathtaking, every last one of them. I look upon the God-created beauty and take it all in with a quiet, thankful reserve.
There’s not much in the way of life out here as I push my way into northwest Wyoming, on my way to Gabriela’s adopted hometown—Trinity. I don’t know anything about the town, other than what I could find online, but the consensus is Trinity was a big player in the old days of western expansion… the gold rush days. Back when Native Americans were being bottle-necked onto desperate and dreary reservations and gold was being carelessly pillaged from the virgin land. The area was flooded with the vagrant and vile, the outcasts of society.
Crossing under the large, wrought iron sign welcoming me into Trinity, I can’t help but chuckle at th
e thought of things not being much different than they had been back then. The antique sign gives way to a four-block main street that’s stood the test of time well. No building is over two stories high and most look like they weren’t built this century. Instead of your typical Starbucks, McDonald’s, and Dave & Buster’s, none of which can be found a hundred-plus miles in either direction, there’s the Creekside Café and Bakery, Wagon Wheel Bar and Grill, and the Six Shooter Saloon—the spot where Irish’s friend, Rock, told him Gabriela spends a lot of her time these days.
I pull into the less-than-remarkable Hollywood Starlight Hotel and Casino and hop off my bike, carrying the only thing I bothered to bring with me—my backpack. After getting checked in and dropping off my shit, I head down to the bar for a beer. I’ve managed to keep my drinking to a minimum since being out, but after half a day on these isolated Wyoming roads, I’m in need of a buzz and some conversation.
I down two beers in quick succession while making my daily call to Paige. She doesn’t sound so well, and I know her father is suffering. The whole situation makes it that much harder to be away from her. She swears she’s getting by okay, and that Irish and Brandi have been there with her every step of the way, but it doesn’t make me feel any less guilty for being away from her. I just need to make my connection with Gabriela, do my best to make things right with her, to keep her out of trouble, and then I’m on my way back home, back to my girl, back where I belong.
After one last beer at the hotel bar, I head over to the Six Shooter Saloon, which feels a lot like stepping back in time. There are the classic wooden swinging doors that give way to three aged poker tables on my left as I walk into the saloon. A handful of weathered bearded gentlemen sit around the tables and look up from their cards with inquisitive, judging glances. They eventually tire of me, and return to their game, as I grab a stool at the bar. The bartender, with filthy overalls, a cutoff tee, and a warm smile, motions to me.
“What’ll it be, partner?” He flips a dirty rag over his shoulder and leans an elbow against the bar.
“That Devil’s Hatchet pale ale any good?”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “You’re askin’ the wrong guy. I don’t drink that shit. People seem to like it though. It’s local. I think all that shit tastes like fuckin’ urine.”
“You know what urine tastes like?” I laugh, and he just shrugs.
“I’ve had it a time or two. It’s sterile, ya know?” He sports a crooked smile, pulling at a spotty blonde beard not to be proud of, and I can’t help but think he may actually be telling me the truth.
“Well shit, give me some of that urine then, please.”
He winks and clicks his tongue. “Coming right up, partner.”
Turning his back to me, he grabs a pint glass and starts to fill it. I glance around the room, noting a handful of rough-looking men playing pool on the other end of the bar and engaged in loud conversation, two more lonesome souls seated at the bar with me, and the men with dirty glances playing cards at the table. I look back to the bartender as he places the beer before me, foam spilling over the edges of the glass.
“You aren’t from here, are you?” I ask, and he grunts.
“Whatcha thin’ gives it away?” he asks, thickening his twang.
Through a chuckle, I ask him, “Where’s home?”
“Well…” He lifts two palms in the air and looks around. “This is home. Been in Trinity the better part of fifteen years. Born and raised ‘Bama though. Family’s from Winfield.”
“Ah, I’ve never been. I’m a Florida man myself.” He rolls his eyes and reaches under the counter, pulling out a Crimson Tide hat and slipping it on. He takes his time positioning it just right with a smirk on his face.
I roll my eyes, brushing him off, and then I lean forward into the bar. “So, if you’ve been here awhile, do you know if a Gabriela Michaels will be in tonight? Or if this is the right place to find her?” I ask. He raises an eyebrow, a look of doubt passing over him.
“Gabi? Yeah, she’s in here damn near every other night. Not sure about tonight though. How do you know her?” His sudden intrigue has me regretting I asked.
“She’s an old friend of mine. I heard she moved back here after the Army, so I came to surprise her.” I come up with the first thing that touches my brain, and he seems to buy it.
“Shit, I didn’t think Gabi had any friends.” He laughs.
“Do you know her well?” I ask.
“That, I do. I used to be best friends with her pop before he passed. Good man. Fuckin’ awful drunk, but when he was sober, the bastard took real good care of ‘em. That is until Dotty went. Did ya know the Michaels’s?”
“No, I never got the chance to meet them. Gabriela always spoke very highly of them though,” I say, playing along.
“Gabriela, huh? I thought I heard ya wrong the first time. Y’all must be real good friends. The last time I called her that, she damn near broke a beer bottle over my head.” He laughs and flips two shot glasses over onto the bar. “Shot?”
I hesitate, knowing full well I don’t need a shot, but also understanding these kinds of things aren’t passed on between men. “Sure, what are you having?”
“Does it matter?” He laughs and pulls a bottle from behind the bar. “Jack Daniels has my ‘Bama heart. Hope you’re okay with that cause it’s what yer gettin’.” He chuckles as he pours the shots and then stows the bottle.
“I’m a Jameson man myself, but Jack will do just fine.” I lift the shot glass. “Cheers.” We take the shots and the striking sweetness of the Jack burns all the way down. He lifts the glass toward me, nodding, and then makes his way back down the bar.
As I toss my beer back in hopes of ridding my taste buds of the Jack, I catch Gabriela walk up to the bar in my peripheral. Had I not looked her up beforehand, I would have never known it was her, though the resemblance is striking. Lowering the beer, I notice she scans the area behind her intently as the man with her greets the bartender with a hand shake. The familiarity in her features catches me off guard for a moment, and I stare, the only thing crossing my mind is her as a two year old, crying from the crib… and me unable to help her, no matter how hard I tried.
“About damn time, asshole.” I dab out my cigarette on the Six Shooter’s wooden siding as Shane approaches through dusk’s dimming light, ten minutes late, as he so often is. He’s wearing his patented smile, equipped with dimples that could make any woman’s knees weak. Not mine though. I’ve known those damn dimples for far too long now. They worked on me long ago, but I can fight them off these days. Besides, I’m not the swooning type. He’d get off on that too much.
He pulls off his fedora and bows with it.
“Hey, have you come to expect anything less from me?” he asks, standing back straight, and returning the hat to his head. He greets me with a hug, wrapping his thick arms around me. He’s about the only man I can even stomach touching me anymore and his arms still carry the same electric sense of security they always have. If I cared enough to love someone, I mean to truly love someone without reservations… this man would be the one.
“You know, the whole basic training deal is supposed to break you of that habit. How did you manage to miss that?” I ask him as I make my way through the bar doors, Shane close behind.
“If I didn’t have a battle buddy in basic as prompt and perky in the morning as you were, I think it would’ve stuck a little better. So, I blame you,” he says with a coy little smile. I scoff, my lip rearing back into the look of judgmental disgust I so often carry. For him, at least, it’s just a pretend one. The same can’t be said for most everybody else.
We take two seats at the bar and I’m relieved to not see Javi in here playing pool like he usually is, but some of his minions are. Fuck them. I should probably be avoiding this place with the predicament I’m in, but that’s not my style. I refuse to be afraid, or to show my fear at the very least. It’s not in my nature. They’re sure to come by eventually, and
I’m sure to get an earful. At this point, an earful is the least of my concerns.
“If it weren’t for me,” I continue, “they would’ve sent your ass back to Jersey before you even got your uniform. Just thank me, Shane.” I glance around the bar behind me as Shane greets Jimmy. Satisfied I won’t be getting fucked with just yet, I lean into the bar, nodding at Jimmy who greets us with two Buds in his hands. “And shut the fuck up,” I snap at Shane, a pretend scowl taking up my face.
He pulls back, faking a look of shock before tossing his fresh beer back. He plops the bottle down on the bar top and removes his fedora, setting it down next to it.
“You’re lucky I like you. I’m not afraid to hit a woman,” he jokes.
“Oh, how quickly we forget who beat whose ass in combatives. Don’t make me refresh your memory.” I think back to that time, nearly five years ago, when we were just two young and dumb privates in basic training learning the Army ropes. I did, in fact, kick his ass in combatives and neither the drill sergeants, nor our fellow recruits, ever let him live it down. It was a whole different world back then. I had so much hope… so much optimism for the future.
Five years and a shortened military career later and here I am with more hate in my heart than I thought I could ever possess, and on the brink of my body being hacked up into a hundred little pieces and thrown into Snake River.
“How many times do I have to remind you?” He looks away, trying his best to fight a smile from taking up his face. “I let you win,” he finishes, finally cracking up.
“You have got to be shitting me, Shane. You’re still gonna stick to that story, huh? Even though there were plenty of witnesses who can verify you having been annihilated by a woman.”
“Yeah, well the only one you still talk to from basic is me, so what do you got now?”
“You’re a fucking idiot.” I roll my eyes and put two fingers up for Jimmy to come back around.
