by K. Langston
Some were far worse.
But it was Hank’s that I was most curious about. Reese had told me she opened the first Bird House up twenty years ago, after her husband, a wealthy oil tycoon, died mysteriously back in Texas. She’d found him in bed unconscious and by the time the ambulance arrived, he was dead.
Reese said the police interrogated Hank and conducted an extensive investigation but never found any evidence of foul play, and the circumstances surrounding his death still remains unknown. A year later, she packed up what she didn’t get rid of in the estate sale and moved to New York, taking her husband’s millions with her.
I’d become intrigued by her.
Mostly her strength.
The way she carried herself, confident and sure. How she took time to speak to everyone. And if there was one thing I’d learned in my short time here, when Hank spoke, people listened.
I’d just finished chopping another bell pepper when she walked into the kitchen. She was making her rounds, checking on everyone. Hank didn’t sit still for long, always moving around, encouraging you each step along the way.
“How’s your day been, darlin’? Sick of choppin’ yet?”
Chuckling, I reached for another pepper. “Not yet.”
“You’ll get there. In a couple of weeks you’ll be begging me to move ya.”
“Where will I go next?”
“Server or hostess?”
I thought about that for a moment then answered. “Server.”
“Good choice. More money and you have a lovely smile, dear. The customers will appreciate it.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure, you can ask me anything,” she said.
“How long did you stay?”
She was quiet for a moment, as if contemplating her next words carefully. “Twenty years.”
I could not imagine staying with Trent that long. Six years seemed like a lifetime, twenty years must have felt like an eternity.
“He was charming. Sweet. Like they all are in the beginning. He was also very wealthy. His reputation was impeccable, so very few people knew the kind of man he really was. I don’t think anyone knew him like me.” She moved closer, unbuttoning the sleeves of her blouse and rolling them up. Extending her hands, she revealed her wrists, each one harboring thin white scars that overlapped one another, some deeper than others, making my stomach roll with nausea.
No wonder she wore long-sleeved shirts every day.
“He tied me to the dining room chair with zip ties. He’d leave me there for hours. Sometimes for days.”
“Oh my God.”
“I was his prisoner, not his wife. I was terrified. Every move and decision I made, every breath I took, was because he allowed it. But there comes a time, for everyone, when enough is enough. When your heart, your mind, and your body just can’t take it anymore. I knew no one would believe me. Hell, my own mother wouldn’t even listen when I told her what was happening, only said I needed to stop doing whatever it was that drove him to it.”
I could feel her desperation. Her misery clutched my heart as if it were my own.
Because I’d lived it, too.
“What did you do?” I whispered.
She began buttoning her sleeves. “I did what I had to do.”
Deep down, I knew what that meant.
“It’s the scars you can’t see that take the longest to heal. But sometimes, the very thing that broke you is the only thing that can heal you. Finding a way to love myself again was the hardest part of it all. That didn’t happen until I started the Bird House. Until I found other women like me. Like you.”
Tears slid hot down my cheeks. Hank slipped the cutting knife from my trembling hand and pulled me in for a hug. “Don’t be afraid to fly again, little bird. Your wings may have been broken but they will heal. You will heal.”
“I hope so,” I sobbed.
Pulling back, her hands moved to my shoulders and she found my eyes. “I know so.”
Hank leaned over and grabbed a paper towel, offering it to me. “Thank you,” I sniffled. “Can I ask you one more question?”
“Of course.”
“The other day, you mentioned finding housing if I needed it.”
She nodded.
“I think I need it.”
“Done.” Her small hands cupped my cheeks. “Anything else?”
I shook my head, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. “You’re an angel.”
“Nah, I’m just a bird with a song to sing. It may be hard to hear, but with every woman who walks through my door, I get louder.”
I knew right then that no matter what I had been through and all that I had yet to face, the Bird House would always be my safe haven.
I could already see a difference in her. I’d like to think I had a hand in it too, but I could tell working and making her own money was very important to her. She held her head a little higher each day when I picked her up and that smile continued to get brighter and brighter.
We’d settled into an easy routine over the last few weeks. When she wasn’t working, we hung out, watched movies, and listened to old records. I couldn’t remember when I’d laughed so much.
I smiled, remembering last night.
Her warm body pressed against mine, I tried to be a gentleman. Tried not to think about how perfectly her back fit to my front or how sweet she smelled, but she was everywhere.
She shook with laughter when Ham repeated my favorite line of all time.
“Gosh, I haven’t had s’mores in for—ev—er,” she said, lamely trying to impersonate Squints.
“S’more what?” I growled in her ear, giving her a little tickle in her ribs.
She squirmed, rubbing her ass against me.
Shit, tickling is not a good idea.
With a howl of laughter, I caught an elbow in the stomach. The sound vibrated through my chest, traveling straight to my dick.
Fuck, she was killing me.
One laugh and smile at a time, she was effectively dismantling my self-control.
“This is the best movie ever. Nothing beats the Great Bambino,” I said, trying not to think about all the naughty things I wanted to do to her right now.
If she wiggled that ass against me one more time…
“Damn Yankees fan.”
“Some of us root for real baseball teams,” I teased.
She rolled over to face me with a seriously pissed off look on her sweet face and damn, I’d forgotten how cute she is when she’s mad.
“Excuse me, the A’s are a real baseball team.”
“Bullshit,” I scoffed under my breath.
“My dad was a fan. A true fan not some bandwagon rider who only followed winners.”
I grinned, loving that passion in her voice.
“I admire that. I do. And you know I loved your dad, but the A’s suck, babe.”
The moment the words left my mouth, I immediately wanted to take them back when sadness stole the smile from her face.
“Shit, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
“No, it’s okay. It’s just…sometimes it’s hard to talk about them. I miss them a lot. Especially now.” I could see the tears building in her eyes. “My dad and I used to watch baseball together all the time. He’d pull me up on his lap and walk me through every play. Give me player stats. Sometimes I didn’t understand what he was talking about, but I didn’t care. It was our special time together. Something we shared, just the two of us, and I looked forward to our time together every week. Eventually, I got too big to sit in his lap.” She laughed, the memory bringing a smile back to her beautiful face. “So instead, I would curl up next to him while his arm would keep me close. It was my favorite place in the world when I was a little girl.”
“He was a great man,” I said. “So was your mom. I used to love her chocolate chip cookies.”
“No one could make chocolate chip cookies like my mom,” she mused proudly.
“True,” I agreed, �
��but don’t tell my mom I said that.”
That brought another soft smile to her face, but it faded just as quickly as it passed her lips. “I often think about how different my life would have been had they not…”
She trailed off, her words becoming lodged in her throat.
“I know it’s hard, MaryAnn. I hate that I wasn’t able to be there for you. It’s something I will always regret.”
She looked up at me with a sad smile. “I wish you would have been there too but it’s neither of our faults. You were always with me in my heart. Most of the time, when I did get sad while thinking about them, I would think about you and our time together. It always gave me comfort.”
I pressed my lips to her red cheek as one lone tear fell.
“Have you been to the memorial?” I asked, finding her eyes once more.
Biting her lip, she shook her head. “There were times I wanted to, but I was too afraid. I’m not sure my fragile heart can take it.”
I nodded in understanding. Brushing the hair from her forehead, I pressed a kiss there. “Sometimes, facing what we fear the most is the only way we can find peace.”
It took every bit of restraint not to kiss her right then and there, but instead, I simply held her close until she fell asleep in my arms. Then I carried her to my bed, crawling in next to her.
There were plenty of times over the last couple of weeks, last night especially, when I’d come close to throwing that restraint out the fucking window. But I didn’t want to push too fast too soon, because once I crossed that line, there would be no holding back. It wouldn’t be long before I was unable to resist that unrelenting urge to claim her once more, I just prayed like hell she was ready when it happened.
Blinking, I licked my lips and rolled over. The early morning sun peeked through the curtains of Ryker’s room and I smiled, my foggy mind trying to recapture the feelings from last night, being wrapped in his arms, so safe and warm. Rolling over, I found his side of the bed empty, sans one fat, fluffy cat.
“Good morning, sweet kitty. Where’s your daddy, hmm?”
The smell of bacon wafted through the air, and I knew my answer. I gave Bernard a few obligatory strokes before I pushed up from the bed and grabbed my crutches, making my way into the bathroom.
Looking in the mirror, I smiled. Each day, it became easier and easier to face my fears. The scars of my past still haunted me. I had a feeling they always would, but I wasn’t afraid of them. I wasn’t ashamed anymore. My scars told a story.
My story.
And the best part about my story is that I’m the one who gets to write the ending.
Me.
The thought gave me a sense of empowerment I’d never felt before. A sense of freedom that came from letting go. It would be easy to hate Trent for what he’d done to me or hate my grandmother for keeping Ryker and Reese from me, but I refused to let either of them have even one ounce of bitterness. They weren’t going to get one more second of my life. I wanted to be happy. I wanted to be free from the burden of hate. It was too much of a load to bear.
Smiling, I gathered my messy hair and pulled it into a bun, making a note to talk to Reese about helping me dye it back to my original color before the anniversary party, which was coming up soon. I was nervous about seeing everyone again but excited, too. A sense of longing bloomed inside my heart, wishing my parents could also be there.
Once I finished up in the bathroom, I walked out to find Ryker standing there.
“Good morning, beautiful,” he greeted, walking closer and landing a kiss to my forehead.
My heart flip-flopped in my chest every time he did that. I could tell he was struggling to hold back. I knew he was doing it for my benefit, but it was starting to drive me crazy. Every single touch or brush of skin had become magnified the more time we spent together. To the point where I was almost ready to just take charge and kiss him myself.
“Morning.”
“How’d you sleep?” he asked, tucking a loose strand behind my ear.
Blush crept up my cheeks. “Wonderful, thanks to you.”
He smiled. “Are you hungry?”
“Starving.”
“Good, let’s get you fed then I have somewhere I want to take you.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere very special.”
* * *
Nothing could have prepared me for the overwhelming emotions that came with being here. I’d always been too afraid to revisit this place because of the devastation and sadness that gripped me each time I thought about the way they died. I was forced to relive it every single year. When the news stations would flood our TVs with images of that awful day. My fear only compounded, knowing if I ever came here, the loss would somehow be greater.
The twin reflecting pools were a sight to behold, set within the footprints where the Towers once stood. The names of every person who died that day were inscribed into bronze panels edging the Memorial pools, a powerful reminder of how many precious lives were lost here.
My heart ached as Ryker led me to where my parents’ names were listed. He knew the exact location. That had me on the verge of tears. He’d been here before, but not me.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
I assumed he’d been here for others and not just my parents. I’m sure his father lost a lot of men that day, too.
Grazing my trembling fingers across my parents’ names, I closed my eyes as memories began to flood my mind. The calming rush of water was the only sound penetrating my thoughts. Even though my heart ached, the loss still just as great as it was the day it happened, there was also peace.
Closure.
And I was reminded that these two people, while here on earth, loved me beyond measure.
Ryker stood close, his hand resting on my shoulder as I sucked in a cleansing breath. “You okay?”
Opening my eyes, I sighed. “Yeah. It hurts but not as much as I thought it would. It’s hard to believe something so horrific could be turned into something so beautiful.”
“I could have never done this without you, Ryker. Thank you for bringing me here.”
His fingers gently gripped my chin, bringing my gaze to his. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. And being strong is important, but I want you to know, whatever you face from here on out, I’ll always be right here with you.” His eyes softened as his hand moved to my cheek. “You will never have to face anything alone again.”
I lifted my hand to cover his. “I know.”
We ended up staying for a while longer. Ryker showed me the names of all the men his father had lost, told me story after story of survival and bravery. Men and women who had given their lives up so selfishly to save another. Guilt plagued me after we left. I should have come sooner. I should have honored my parents’ memory before now, but if I’d learned anything over the last few weeks it’s that fear is only temporary, regret lasts forever, and I was done with regrets.
Later that afternoon, when we got back to Ryker’s apartment, he surprised me yet again.
A gasp fell from my lips as I took in the sight before me.
The coffee table and sofa had been pushed back and a blanket had been put down in their place, surrounded by throw pillows. An LED lantern sat in the center along with a plate of sausage and cheese, crackers, a bucket of beer.
A laugh bubbled from my mouth.
“What—how did you?”
He smiled mischievously. “While she can be a huge pain in my ass sometimes, she’s also my partner in crime.”
We settled on the floor and Ryker opened us each a beer. “Well, I must admit, this is very romantic.”
“Are you impressed?”
“Very.”
“Reminds me of the picnics we used to have in the tree house,” I said, reminiscing about our childhood.
“Some of the best days of my life.”
I nodded.
“I think my favorite would have to be the day you gave me this,”
I said, fingering the ring hanging from my neck.
“I meant every word. Still do.”
I love this, being here with him, how easy it is. How happy he’s made me over the last few weeks. It makes me sad to think about leaving, but I know it’s something I need to do.
“What’s wrong?” Ryker asked.
“I’ve been trying to figure out a way to tell you this, but…”
“Tell me what?”
“I talked to Hank about helping me find a place to live.”
His jaw flexed and what can only be described as a low grunt of disapproval accompanied his reply, “I don’t want you to go.”
My chest surged with warmth. “I know, but I need to do this, Ryker. I’m afraid if I don’t stand on my own, for once in my life, then I’ll always be that same girl. The girl who stayed.”
He moved closer, one hand reaching out to cradle my face. “You can stand on your own and still lean on me.” He pressed his forehead to mine. “Please fucking lean on me.”
I needed him more than I would ever admit. No. Not need.
Want.
I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything. Which is why I need to do this. To find my independence and be the strong girl he remembered. The one I know is still in me.
The one he fell in love with.
“Look at me,” he ordered, his voice barely a whisper. “I understand you want a place of your own and I will support that, but I want to be with you. I feel like I just got you back. I can’t lose you again, MaryAnn.”
His words start a fire in me, one that’s never been lit. A storm of passion rolling under my skin in rivers of burning need. How had I lived without him for so long? This man completed me in ways I would never understand.
I still had a long road ahead of me, and I was determined to take each step alone, but I knew I could face anything with him.
“You won’t lose me.”
“Promise?”
His lips were a thief, capturing the vow before it even had a chance to escape. Those boyish lips I remember had found the strength and confidence of a man. They were tender yet soft.
