by Kreig, K. L.
“What the fuck,” he practically yells accusingly, taking Addy from Cooper’s arms. Cooper’s eyes shift between Addy and Luke, his jaw ticking furiously.
Uh oh. I smell testosterone.
“Just helping out. Maybe you shouldn’t let your girlfriend get falling-down drunk next time and go off to the bathroom by herself,” Cooper spits, his eyes flaring.
Uh oh. I smell a fight.
“He’s not my fucking boyfriend,” Addy tries saying, but it comes out more like, “Heeessss no me fuckn boooyfrn.” Addy then tries pushing out of Luke’s hold, reaching again for Cooper, but Luke hooks one hand under her knees and scoops her into his arms.
“Where’s her coat? I’m taking her home.” Luke’s hard glare never deviates from Cooper, just daring him to say another word. Cooper looks to me, calming slightly when I mouth, It’s okay.
Next thing I know Luke’s walking through the crowd, coat draped over Addy, who’s now snuggled into his chest, eyes shut.
“Well that was…interesting,” Cooper mumbles, his eyes following Luke’s back until he disappears around the corner.
Uh oh. I smell competition.
“So, Alyse, nice to see you. I need to get back to my cousin.” Cooper doesn’t wait for my reply before leaving. Nor does he wait for an introduction to the happy couple he’s going to be photographing for an entire day a week from now. And I’m secretly glad he doesn’t say anything about lunch before he makes his exit. There’s been enough drama tonight without adding to it by causing Asher to pound his chest, forbidding me to be alone in the presence of another man without a chaperone.
I take a seat in the booth, squeezing beside Libs and Asher. I casually watch Cooper retreat, stopping at a high-top table across the room, all the while thinking about the rightness of being with this wonderful man flush to me, arm slung around my shoulder, and how lucky I am to have found him again.
Watching Cooper talk to the man whose back is to me, but who I assume must be his cousin, I feel giddiness bubble inside at the thought that for the first time in years I’m hopeful to have a future that I didn’t think was ever possible.
I notice their heads close together and imagine Cooper’s probably giving him a play-by-play of the last ten minutes. I decide it’s finally time to come completely clean with Asher, shedding my armor, letting the ugly secrets of my past spill. While Asher’s managed to jackhammer much of my fortress, I want to demolish the rest myself. I’ll brace for the worst, but the truth is, I believe in Asher, so I’ll hope for the best.
As I absently watch Cooper, while I plan the right time to find all those damn keys so I can lay my soul bare to the man I’ve fallen in love with, I observe his cousin’s head slowly turn my way.
Our gaze violently collides.
My eyes narrow. My breath catches.
My entire world comes crashing to a screeching halt.
Everything I thought I knew to be true blows up like a nuclear bomb in my face, the fallout just as toxic and deadly.
Across a dark, crowded bar in Chicago, Illinois, almost eight years to the day, I lock eyes with the first man I loved, the man I gave my virginity to, the man I created life with.
The man I thought was dead.
Gears click soundly into place, the noise loud and deafening.
Doppelganger.
Cousins.
CB29 Studios.
Cooper. Beck.
Beck.
Time rewinds.
I hear the horrific sounds of metal crunching.
I feel the pain of broken bones and glass slicing open my fragile skin.
I sense warm blood running in rivulets down my face, into my eyes.
I hear screaming. Mine.
I hear silence. Beck’s.
Tightly woven memories blanket me until there is nothing but darkness.
Chapter 30
Asher
“Are you sure you’re feeling okay, baby?” I ask, running fingers through her silky hair as she lies with her head on my lap. We have the TV on, watching some old western, but I don’t think either of us could tell you what’s going on. My dad was a huge western fan. Out of the four brothers, I’m the only one who inherited his love of them.
“I’m fine, Asher. Really.” Her voice is flat and monotone.
If I hear another goddamn “fine” I may just lose it. She’s not fine. Ever since she passed out cold last night at the bar, she’s been the furthest fucking thing from fine.
She claims to have no idea why she blacked out for a few seconds, blaming it on the mixture of tequila and wine. I’m skeptical. She’s been distant and quiet and I’ve barely been able to pull a word out of her since. Something is wrong. Very wrong. Something happened, and for the life of me I can’t figure out what it is.
Everything was perfectly fine until Addy was hauled off in Luke’s arms and that photographer left. Then shortly after, she’s slumped over on my shoulder, dead to the damn world. I’ve never been so fucking scared than in those few seconds I couldn’t rouse her. When she finally came to, she was pale and shivering. The look in her eyes was like nothing I’ve ever seen.
She was simply lost. Empty.
She didn’t say a word the rest of the night, other than to repeatedly tell me she was fine.
A panicky feeling is building in my chest, right about where my heart is. It’s been intensifying all day. She’s pulling away. I feel it. I see it. I sense it down to my very core. Her moat is back and filled to the brim with choppy black waters, her drawbridge firmly up and locked. All the progress we’ve made at letting me in over these last few weeks has just vanished. I’m standing on the outside of her fortress again, knowing I need a new plan. Knowing I’ll have to start all over again.
And I’ll do it. A thousand times over if I have to. I simply refuse to let her slip away from me. Not when I know I’m meant to spend the rest of my life with her. I told her I would never abandon her and I will go to my grave keeping that promise. I will never let this woman down like so many before me.
I’m trying not to overreact, but I’m terrified. Truly, utterly terrified that I’m losing her. I want to shake her, force her to spill the secrets she’s hiding. I want to open up her damn brain and pull them out myself and then erase them, so all she’ll know is the unconditional love and happiness I will lavish on her every day for the rest of our lives. I want her to trust that she’s emotionally safe with me, that she can be vulnerable without being judged or condemned.
I’m so distraught I even called Livia from the bathroom a bit ago to see if she had any insight. She claims to be as clueless as I am, but she seems extremely concerned. That’s only intensifying my own anxiety.
I can’t believe how woven Alyse has become in my daily life in such a short time. I have a hard time sleeping if she’s not in my arms. I have a shitty day if I can’t see her face before I start it. I’m irritable if I can’t talk to her, even by text, several times a day. She has bewitched me completely and thoroughly.
I’ve been racking my brain trying to figure out how I’m going to keep her here after the audit because after the best blow job known to mankind the other day, she excitedly went through what she’d discovered. When she was rattling on about vendors and fake invoices and bank accounts, I could barely listen to the words. I was completely mesmerized at her enthusiasm and passion and sheer love of her job.
Plain and simple, she’s the most incredible woman I have ever known.
Alyse’s phone buzzes for the fifth time today. I haven’t missed the fact that the other calls have been from the same number, a number I’m not familiar with, and when I hand the phone to Alyse, she checks it, declining the call.
Those little seeds of doubt and worry have fucking rooted and are growing at an alarming pace. But in checking the caller ID this time, I’m relieved to see it’s Heather. I grab it off the stand next to me and hand it to Alyse, sure she’ll want to take it.
“It’s Heather, baby.”
She si
ts up, putting the phone to her ear. The conversation is short. All I hear is Alyse’s terse one-word replies. “Yes.” “Okay.” “Fine.” “Sure.” “Bye.” I don’t know why, but it marginally relieves the ache I’m feeling to know whatever mood she’s in isn’t just directed at me.
“What did Heather want?” I decide to ask a direct question instead of an open-ended one, hoping to get more than one or two words out of her.
“I have to go back to Detroit tomorrow.”
My heart sinks.
“For how long? Next week is Christmas. You remember we’re spending Christmas Eve and day at Gray and Livia’s.” Usually we’d gather at my mom’s, but because the wedding is just two days later, we all agreed it would be easier to have Christmas here this year.
“I know. I have some new potential clients I need to meet with. I’ll be back Tuesday night.”
“I hate being away from you, even for a night.”
I pull her back into me, lips lingering on her forehead before we resume our previous position.
Before Alyse came back into my life, I would have said nothing would ever be more important than my career and my business and my family. But it’s not anymore. Alyse has jumped into my top slot. Permanently. I never intended to find my soul mate, never intended on getting married after Natalie, never intended to have a family.
But now…now the last two are all I can think about. I don’t want to be away from her. I’ve even cut my weekly trips to Detroit back significantly, not at the jeopardy of my business, but because I don’t need to be there as often as I have been. I have competent executives who can handle the management of that office without my constant presence.
“I can come with you,” I announce before even thinking it through. I’m sure I have back-to-back meetings on Monday and Tuesday that will need to be rescheduled, plus I was just in Detroit last Thursday so I have no need to go back. With the way things seem to be with Alyse, though, I feel like if I let her out of my sight for even a day, I may lose her completely.
Screw work.
“No, it’s fine. I have a lot of paperwork to catch up on and will be working the entire time I’m there. It’s just one night, Asher.”
Fine. There’s that fucking word again.
I turn her over so she’s now forced to look up at me. I cup her cheek, stroking her supple skin with my thumb. “Are you sure? I can rearrange my calendar, no problem.”
Her eyes water and for the millionth time today, I ache to know what’s going on behind those sad, desolate, chocolate puddles.
“You would do that for me?”
You don’t have to be a psychiatrist or have any mental health training at all to know that Alyse suffers greatly from abandonment issues, but in that moment, the full extent of them hits me like a ton of fucking bricks. She doesn’t even feel like she’s good enough for me to cancel a few meaningless meetings? No one has put her first.
Ever.
No one.
My heart bleeds for her.
Right then and there I vow to spend the rest of my life making sure she knows how loved and vital and cherished she is. It will take a while for her to believe it, but I’ll work tirelessly until she does.
I catch a tear that’s escaped. “Alyse…baby, when are you going to believe that I would do anything for you? I would slay dragons. I would walk through hell. I would wage wars. I would lie and cheat and steal and kill for you. I’d break every fucking law and commandment for no one else but you. I am madly, deeply, unconditionally in love with you. Your happiness is my first and only priority.”
I finally see a ghost of a smile and my Alyse shines briefly through her veil of sadness and watery eyes. Seeing that she’s still inside her new coat of protective armor, I feel like I can take a full breath for the first time since last night at eleven-thirty.
“Wow. Dragons, huh?”
“Don’t forget the killing. And the wars,” I tease, tugging playfully on her lower lip.
That gets me a brief laugh before she turns somber again.
“I have a hard time believing this is real sometimes.”
The sadness in her eyes twists my insides into so many goddamn knots I feel like I belong on a fucking sailboat.
“That what’s real, baby?”
“You. Us,” she whispers.
I tug her onto my lap, so she’s cradled in my arms. “Why, Alyse? What happened last night to make you question what we have is real?” I want her to believe in us so badly, but I don’t know how.
Until these five strange phone calls today planted a new seed of uncertainty, I’ve run through every scenario in my head. The only thing I can come up with is my raging jealousy over other men looking at, talking to, or touching her. I know she saw it when she was talking to that photographer in the hallway. I realize I’m being completely asinine. I trust her and I need to start acting like it. I decided first thing this morning to get that under control because my fear is it’s pushing her away from me.
For the first time since Conn mentioned it, I’m seriously considering calling Natalie, knowing that conversation won’t be as hard as I originally thought. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced real pain, the debilitating kind that would bring me to the edge of despair. I now know losing Alyse would lead me there and I’d never come back. Even with everything Natalie did to me, to us, it’s a fraction of the certain agony I would be in without Alyse.
“I don’t know what’s real anymore.”
I don’t know what to make of her cryptic response, but one thing I’ve learned about Alyse is that I need to let her talk about things in her own time. I hate it. I want her to spill the entire contents of her guts now. But the more I push, the more she withdraws. My best approach is to continually remind her that I will be here for her come hell or high water.
“I’m real. We’re real.” I tip her chin up, snaring her eyes. “My love for you is real. It consumes me, Alyse. It burns hot like a thousand suns deep inside my soul and there is nothing that could ever extinguish it.”
Her lips turn, but the weak smile doesn’t reach her eyes and it’s like knives to my heart that she’s feeling so lost.
“You’re not alone anymore,” I tell her, needing her to believe my words are not just syllables strung together, but promises that come from the very center of my being. “I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. I’ll carry you, I’ll catch you, I’ll hold you up when you need it. I’ll shoulder your burdens when they get too heavy. You’re not alone, Alyse.” I cup her face, bringing her close. “You’re not alone.”
Her eyes refill with tears and they spill over, running down her face. “Asher, I…I love you. So much.”
I take her lips in a deep, drugging kiss, pouring every thought and every feeling I have into her, willing her to believe it.
Believe in me.
Believe in us.
Fight for us.
I spend the rest of the night holding her, loving her, and doing something I haven’t done in a very long time: I pray.
I pray that my love will be enough to hold her to me. I can’t help the niggling in the back of my brain that the walls she’s resurrected again have everything to do with the painful past she refuses to discuss.
I just wish I knew what happened to slam them back into place so I can fix it.
Chapter 31
Alyse
You know that anxious, gut-twisting feeling you get when the walls are closing in on you from all directions and there’s not a damn thing you can do to stop them from crushing you? All you can do is sit helplessly frozen, watching as they inch ever closer to exterminating your hopes, your dreams, your very life?
I felt that way when I learned that Beck had died. I felt powerless, weak. My body and mind nothing but a swirling mass of utter despondency for several long months.
I worked hard to overcome my depression. It was a long, difficult road, but I did it and I vowed I’d never let myself get to that place again. No matter what. But since S
aturday night, I feel like I’ve slipped. I’m suffocating. I’m slowly circling that dark pit of despair again and I’m scared. Absolutely terrified.
It’s a place I welcomed last time because I didn’t know any better. I couldn’t see beyond my soul-destroying agony. This time, however…it’s not fucking welcome. At all. It’s not, because I’ve found love again. I’m happy and hopeful, but even so I still feel the darkness seeping in around the edges like shadow warriors come to claim my soul so they can feast on it for eternity.
I look down at my phone to see fifteen text messages and four missed calls.
Cooper.
Livia.
Asher.
Asher is smothering me with worry and his anxiousness is washing over me in thundering, booming sprays. But I also feel his love wrap around me like a warm, comforting blanket and I need that damn blanket like a lifeline. It’s my only savior in this entire fucked-up situation, because without Asher, I would be hopelessly lost for good. I can only hope and pray he continues to be patient with me as I work to find my way out of this hole I’ve fallen through. I want to reassure him that everything will be okay, but how can I when I’m trying to understand it myself, let alone explain it?
I’m trying so hard to outrun my past, but every time I move forward, there it is again.
Blocking my path.
Holding me back.
Keeping me prisoner. Before it was just memories, but now…
Beck is alive.
He’s always been alive.
I keep replaying that moment, just a second frozen in time. I saw so much, but so little at the same time. I keep telling myself that it wasn’t really him, but I know that no amount of pretending will make it untrue. And the fact that I’ve heard from Cooper multiple times tells me it’s not a hallucination.
Beck is not dead.
Before I fainted, I saw the moment he recognized it was me. I saw sorrow turn down his handsome features. I saw regret eating him alive.
I anxiously wait, obsessively looking at my watch, my foot bouncing up and down so fast I think I’m shaking all the tables within a six-foot radius. I scan the diner for any signs that I’ve been tricked.
