Forbidden Fate

by Mary Catherine Gebhard

  I felt the wrinkle in my brow. Then what changed? Before I could ask, West spoke.

  “I want to get you a bodyguard.”

  “Why?”

  “I am fucking worried about you, Angel. You’re the moon, and some people out there want to snuff you out for no other reason than to bring you into the dark.”

  I blinked, not expecting such…nice words from him. It almost sounded like when we were kids. He caressed a knuckle down my cheek. He leaned closer, as if he would kiss me. When I didn’t move to kiss him, he didn’t go any further.

  “Story Hale, do you think you could ever stay with me?”

  I dropped the ice and it clattered to the floor. “What?”

  “You’re it for me. I want more than a few months. I want to have babies with you. I want to have a life with you.”

  Babies.

  A life.

  “I…” I stood up. “The ice. I need to get more.”

  I don’t like West. West is a means to an end.

  I kept repeating it as I went to the kitchen to gather ice.

  I grabbed a cloth, filling it with more ice. There’s a part of me…a part I promised to erase, and it won’t stop scraping at my chest with the words what if?

  What if I really let West pick up the pieces?

  Grayson’s cold voice drifted over my shoulder. “We have servants for that.”

  I startled and the ice fell out of the cloth with a stuttering clunk into the sink. I turned, facing Grayson, locking with his piercing blue eyes, gripping the sink for support. My heart thumped. The air suddenly thick. Muggy. Hot.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Getting ice. For my husband. The one you beat up.”

  “You’re getting him fucking ice?” He leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, one leg propped behind him.

  I went to the freezer, trying to ignore Grayson, but it’s like trying to ignore a storm. It breathes and consumes your air.

  “I’m sorry I’m not the black-and-white person you want me to be. For three years, he was my best friend before he was the guy who raped me. I loved him. He did something awful, but I didn’t stop loving him, even though I knew I should, even though I wanted to. You should understand that.”

  “Are you comparing me to him?” he growled.

  “I’m saying I don’t have the answers you want. I can’t make myself stop feeling something just because I know I should.”

  “Do you still fucking love him?” Grayson stepped closer until only a sliver of darkness separated us.

  I was assaulted with Gray’s features in the dark, the messy, bedhead blond. His cruel features softened in the shadows. I missed him at night. I missed us in the night.

  Before, I’d always been alone, and now that I’d had someone to share the loneliness with, I was bereft without Grayson.

  I was afraid it was impossible to love anyone after Grayson Crowne. But after what he did to me, he didn’t get to know that.

  “Yes,” I lied.

  His eyes narrowed. “You’re lying to me, little nun.”

  “You should go back to your wife, Grayson Crowne.”

  “You should go back to your husband, Story Hale.”

  But when he took a step to me, I didn’t move. Tingles rose along my shoulders, little needle pricks.

  Wrong.

  Heady.

  An excitement you get when you know you shouldn’t do something.

  Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs.

  I spun away from him, facing the sink. Silence spread and spread. I stared at the porcelain as the ice melted.

  Then I felt him. The hard packs of his pecs and abs, pressing into me, forcing my gut to bite the sink. We both breathed together, jagged and hot, his exhalations warming my neck, as if we were riding the high of the tension that had been threading between us for months.

  Then he gripped my thighs, dragging his hands up and down. Feeling. Digging. Bruising.

  My head fell forward as a sigh escaped my lips.

  “Tell me whose baby is inside you. Tell me who fucking owns you.”

  “It isn’t you.” I lifted my hand, flashing him my ring. “It won’t ever be you.”

  He tangled his fist in my hair, jerking my head back so I had to watch when he ripped it off my finger, tossing it to the ground with a clank. His blue eyes locked with mine as if he wanted me to feel the pain in them. Then he pulled my finger to his lips before I could speak, biting it.

  A gasp tore from my lips, and then my senses came back.

  I tried to shove him off, but he pressed me harder against the sink. His hands slid up my thigh, under my shorts, feeling the curve of my bare ass.

  He froze when he realized I was without any panties.

  “Dirty little nun,” he groaned. “Tell me to stop.”

  “Why?” I gritted. “So you can feel good about yourself? When really you’re forcing me to hold all of our sins?”

  The muscle in his jaw popped. All the air in my lungs vanished as he slid his hand out from under my shorts and over the fabric. I swallowed a whimper.

  I’d wanted him to go under…what the fuck is wrong with me?

  “My wife just sucked me off before I came to you,” he growled. “Does it turn you on knowing you’re getting sloppy seconds, Snitch?”

  His grip in my hair tightened, forcing me to arch. I swallowed my groan, refusing to give him anything even as my legs turned to jelly.

  “Because you’re fucking wet, little nun.” He licked my ear. “I think it does. Do you like the idea of cheating on your husband?”

  He only cupped me over my shorts…yet my vision blurred.

  “Do you like cheating on your wife?” I hissed back. “You’re the one with a hard-on.” My eyes flashed, darting to his hard cock. I licked my lips and let my thighs fall open just a little. He grinned.

  He released his grip in my hair and dropped to his knees. The sudden loss of him was so stark I gripped the sink to keep from slipping.

  He slid his hands up and down my thighs. He was so gentle and soft, lingering on my bare knee, thumb achingly tender.

  I probably should’ve known that his words would be harsh.

  “You’re gonna let West touch you now, huh? That was the deal, whatever Lottie does to me, West does to you.” His hands stopped just beneath the crease in my groin, pressing the skin until it blanched. “This is fucking mine.”

  Then he bit, hard.

  Some twisted part of me said this was fine.

  It was just a bite.

  “Let him touch you.” His voice was softer now, deeper, his eyes half-lidded. “He’ll see, Snitch. You’re mine. You will always be mine.” He dragged his thumb across the wound. “I bet if I pushed aside these whore shorts of yours, I’d find a wet pussy.”

  Our eyes locked, a second splintered into thousands. I shoved him off with my knee.

  “You’ll never know. Fuck yourself. Touch yourself. Get off on the idea of me. Because that’s all you’ll ever get again, Grayson Crowne.”

  His eyes flashed. “Fuck a thousand men. Marry a hundred thousand. Leave. Run away. I’ll find you.”

  And yet he wouldn’t ever marry me.

  “You want me to tell you the truth? I hate you.” I meant it, too. “You only fucked me because your wife told you to. You promised your mother you would never talk to me.” His eyebrows shot up, but I kept going. “I hate you, Grayson Crowne. I hate your lies and I hate you.”

  I hated him.

  For tossing me away.

  For never letting me go.

  For not having the courage to keep me.

  Something broke in his eyes, but he hid it too quickly. “You haven’t even begun to hate me, Story.”

  “No, you haven’t even begun to hate me, Grayson Crowne—”

  My voice faded into nothing as icy-cold fear seized my gut. Blood dripped down my thighs. Not a lot…but enough. Had he bit me too hard? Then I realized my shorts were stained red.

&
nbsp; “Is that blood?” My voice rose in fear, all of the earlier fire dead. “Why am I bleeding?” My voice got higher and higher.

  “Hey. Hey.” Grayson stood up and gripped my cheeks between his hands, pulling my eyes to his. “Everything is going to be fine. You’re my girl, Story. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  Thirty

  GRAY

  * * *

  At the private hospital, I hadn’t let go of Story’s hand. She seemed to be deep in thought but hadn’t spoken a word. This was my fault.

  Again.

  I wasn’t good for her.

  “I’m sorry I called you the bad B-movie version of James Dean,” she blurted.

  I raised a brow. “You didn’t call me that.”

  “I did in my head.”

  More silence. More me wondering if she’d lost our baby, if I’d caused it.

  “I’m sorry I—”

  “Snitch?”

  She lifted her head, and I leaned forward, thumbing her lip. Her breathing slowed. That calmed me.

  “You can go,” she whispered. “You’ve done more than enough.”

  Annoyance flickered, but all I said was, “Do you want me to go?”

  She shook her head, and it eased the tension in my gut.

  More seconds passed. I stroked her chin, holding her hand with my other.

  “Maybe she’s…” Snitch started. “Gone and this will all be over and you can go back to how it should be.”

  “Is that what you think I fucking want?” I growled, my grip on her chin tightening.

  The doctor came in at that exact moment, so she didn’t have to answer. But it ate at me. Did she think I didn’t want this?

  I wanted to clear all the obstacles in her way. In our way. But each day it became clearer and clearer… I was the obstacle. My life. My fucking family. Me.

  As the doctor began to tell me to leave, that this was only for family, I stood up.

  “I’m the father.”

  Snitch glanced at me, a look in her eyes I couldn’t decipher. I stood by the bed, tall, shoulders square, one hand above her, letting everyone know they’d have to go through me to get to her. Even the doctor.

  “What’s wrong?” Snitch finally asked the doctor, voice thready. I squeezed the chair above her head.

  She smiled. “Nothing. Bleeding during the beginning is perfectly normal.”

  I exhaled. Normal.

  Normal.

  As the doctor talked about how her pregnancy was progressing and what she needed to do, I listened, committing to memory everything.

  When she left, I looked down and found Snitch staring at me.

  I took my seat next to her bed wordlessly, eyes still locked. I grabbed her hand. This felt routine.

  Normal.

  I wanted that.

  “You should go back to your wife,” she croaked.

  I flinched and dropped her hand. Barely perceptible. But I knew Snitch would notice, notice how I’d been slammed back to reality.

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” I said after a moment. “I see no reason why I can’t be there for you.”

  She blinked out a scoff.

  “Am I supposed to just let you go, Snitch? Let you live married to my brother-in-law with my baby. How the fuck do I do that?”

  “You did this to us. All I can think is that I wasn’t good enough to marry. I wasn’t good enough to have your child—”

  I gripped her face tight, but not enough to bruise. “Stop saying that. This world is not meant for you, Story Hale. It’s not meant for our child.”

  She’s perfect. She’s innocent but has miles of depth. She can’t be bought. She’s everything they want to destroy.

  Then as easily as I had been trained to do my entire life, I mopped my emotions away and sat back, shoulders straight, and said, “I have a proposal. I’ll be there for you. Take you to the doctor. Do everything you need. Be everything you need.”

  She stared at me for so long, her mossy eyes gleaming under the fluorescent lights.

  “West can be that for me.”

  I saw black. Fucking West taking care of my child? I didn’t realize I was clenching my jaw until the muscle ached. I leaned forward until I could see the flecks of green in her stony hazel eyes.

  “West can never be that for you.”

  “How is this going to work? You cross lines, Grayson. We cross lines. It won’t work.”

  Snitch wanted to be free, to not hide. To be with me, I’d have to hide her, hide the baby.

  I couldn’t give Lottie a happy marriage. In the end, I had wed her as she cried under her veil.

  But I would do this, I’ll give Snitch a happily ever after.

  Just without me.

  She would live far away from Crowne Hall with its darkness and ghosts. She would live someplace sunny and bright.

  I will fight for her.

  I will save her.

  From me.

  “We’ll just be friends.”

  STORY

  * * *

  I laughed, but it was choking and hollow. Grayson Crowne and I had never worked as friends.

  “What?” He gripped my face. “Why are you laughing?”

  “We can’t be friends, Grayson.”

  “Why?” He seemed genuinely upset that I’d pointed out what should have been so obvious. His brows caved.

  I can think of a billion reasons. Because I like it too much when you say you’re the father. Because I’m trying to build a life, a good life, a respectable life for our daughter, and with you I’m…bad, shameful.

  “You know me,” he said, voice raised. “I know you. You know the darkest parts of me. You know what makes me bleed. Isn’t that friendship?” he demanded.

  I couldn’t speak.

  “I want to hold your hair back when you have morning sickness,” he continued. “I want to satisfy your weird cravings. I want to rub your feet. I want…” He broke off. “I can’t be your husband, but I’ll be your everything else. I’ll be your protector, your guardian. I’ll make sure you’re cared for. You always have everything you need. I’ll be your best friend.”

  It was so, so tempting. I wanted to give in to him. Let him be there for me. But he couldn’t be there for me, not really. We were once again in the dark. Hidden. A secret.

  I looked up at Grayson, the ninety-degree angle of his chin, the determined, concerned way he listened.

  And my chest sank.

  My diamond ring glared back at me—I’d barely had time to grab it off the floor before Grayson rushed me here—and his wedding band glimmered under the fluorescent light.

  I felt protected and safe…by someone who didn’t belong to me.

  We didn’t belong to each other.

  I couldn’t let my child be born into that.

  “You can’t give me everything I need,” I whispered. “It’s impossible.”

  He balked. “I’m Grayson fucking—”

  “Crowne,” I finished.

  For some stupid, irredeemable reason, I still needed the one thing Grayson Crowne couldn’t give me.

  Grayson Crowne.

  His blue eyes cracked. “Let me fix what I broke, Story.”

  My heart filled and broke at the same time. Only months ago, I’d been in the same position.

  “Let me stay with you during the pregnancy. Let me get you through this safely, let me get you out of the position I put you in, let me save you, Story. I won’t be able to live with myself otherwise.”

  Tears were hot and scratchy in my throat.

  I wanted us to be different.

  I wanted to aim for a happily ever after.

  But this was all I would ever get with Grayson Crowne. A goodbye.

  “I want you to have your happily ever after, Story. Out of the shadows. You and our child.” It sounded like a love confession, but at this point, I knew better. I braced for the crushing blow to follow.

  “I’ll get you out. I’ll get you away.”

  �
�Away.” I choked on the word.

  So he can live happily with Lottie.

  “You said you would have to be tied down. You said you couldn’t ever let me go. Why is now different? Every time you try and let me go you fail.”

  “For you, Snitch, I’d handcuff myself to the bed.”

  “Grayson, I’m not joking.”

  A small, sad smile. “I’ll never let you go, Snitch. I’ll always be there. You just won’t see me.”

  I felt broken and dead.

  I sighed a jagged, cutting sigh.

  He thumbed the edge of my jaw. “Just give me one thing.”

  My eyes found his.

  “I get to be in the delivery room.”

  I paled. “What? No. I…I don’t even know what I’m going to do yet. I might give the baby up.” The thought made me sick.

  It just felt right to keep it.

  But it was also wrong, right? Because what kind of life was it to bring a baby into this fucked-up family with no love and all the wrong kinds of affection. It was exactly what I’d grown up in. A mom who didn’t know how to say no to the men who always left her. A dad who wouldn’t recognize me as their child.

  Grayson physically tensed.

  His jaw.

  His neck.

  His shoulders.

  But he just took a breath, and said, “You’ll still have to have the fucking baby, Story.”

  And with those words, the elephant stomped into the room. I was going to show soon.

  I got sweaty just thinking about it.

  Grayson gripped my face tight. “Fuck, let me be there, please. No games, no contract, no bullshit. Be my friend.”

  All the air in my lungs left. Vanished. I can’t breathe.

  My eyes met his.

  “Friend,” I repeated, skepticism pricking my tongue, but I whispered, “Okay.”

  No sooner had I rasped my acceptance, than his eyes darkened, the lids drooped. His grip on my jaw tightened as his eyes dropped to my lips. Grayson pressed his forehead so tight to mine I thought it might bruise.

  “Just friends,” he rasped.

  He lifted his head.

  “Nothing changes,” he said, standing straight, leaving me to deal with the aftermath of that forehead touch. “Tomorrow we’ll come back and see the doctor together.”