Dare to Stay

by Jen McLaughlin

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just can’t be with you if you refuse to leave the gang. I can’t do it.”

  “You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” I snapped, angry that she felt like she did. No one would blame her for not wanting to be with me. Not even me. “Don’t apologize for being smart.”

  She bit down on her lip harder.

  I walked around the bed, pausing when I reached her. Closing my eyes, I reached out, wrapped my hand around the back of her head, and pulled her into my arms, hugging her close. For a second, the world felt right. She was soft and warm and everything I couldn’t have. “You’re doing the right thing. Trust me.”

  She fisted my shirt, right over my heart, not letting go. “It doesn’t feel right.”

  “Most of the time, the right thing feels wrong.” I ground my teeth together and let go of her, and the world went right back to being a shitty place. “Trust me. I’d know.”

  And I walked out of her life without telling her how much I loved her. It was, hands down, the nicest thing I’d ever done for someone else. The single best thing I’d ever done. Hopefully the first in a line of good things.

  This was my new beginning.

  I had to make sure not to waste it.

  CHAPTER 24

  MOLLY

  Four days later, I sat on the porch of my Cape house, rocking in the off-white wooden rocking chair that had been placed there two days after Chris left, and watched the sunrise. He’d left a card on the chair, but I hadn’t read it yet. Just seeing that envelope, with the familiar sloppy handwriting on it, had been enough to bring me to tears. That was all I could handle right now.

  I rested my head on the chair and closed my eyes, a tear trickling down my cheek. It was stupid, really. I used to think losing my father had used up all my tears. That I didn’t have any left. Turned out, I was saving them all for this. For losing the second man in my life I loved and lost. Chris O’Brien.

  Tires crunched on gravel, and I opened my eyes, my heart picking up speed when I saw the car. It was a black Escalade. Scotty. I stood up unsteadily, not sure whether his arrival was a good or bad thing. After all, he was the only one who knew who I was, or that Chris had been here. If he was here . . .

  Please, God, let Chris be okay.

  I went down the steps of my porch as he got out of his car. He smoothed his leather jacket, pushed his sunglasses into place, and shut the door.

  No one else came out.

  I stopped walking, pressing a hand to my chest. “Is he . . . ?”

  “No.” He dragged a hand through his hair, messing it up, and walked over to me. He had this way of walking that made him look as if he didn’t have a care in the world, but we both knew that wasn’t the case. “He’s not dead, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “Thank God.” I collapsed against the banister, still pressing a hand to my chest. “Then why are you here? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong.” He climbed the stairs and walked onto my porch. His gaze drifted to the left, toward my new rocking chair, before sliding back to me. “I just wanted to talk to you for a minute.”

  “So talk.” I swallowed. “Does Chris know you’re here?”

  “No.” He cocked a brow and touched my birdfeeder, tracing it with his pointer finger. “Is that going to be a problem?”

  I shook my head. “He’s not here anymore. We’re . . . done. So if you were planning on hurting me to get to him, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed.”

  “I told you. I’m one of the good guys.”

  “Someone once told me that you being a cop didn’t make you a good guy.”

  Scotty snorted. “Let me guess. Chris?”

  “Maybe.” I shifted. “But like I said. We’re done now.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He leaned on my banister and crossed his ankles. The collar of his leather jacket stood up straight, and he wore a pair of ripped jeans with brown leather boots. “He told me.”

  My heart sped up again, and I stepped down off the stairs. I wasn’t sure why he was here, but if it was something shady . . . I needed to be able to run. “Then why did you come? What do you want from me?”

  “Easy now.” He held his hands up and took a step closer, removing his sunglasses so he could meet my eyes. His dark reddish brown hair framed those gorgeous green eyes perfectly, but something told me he liked to use that innocent charm that he exuded to his advantage. A lot. “I’m not here to hurt you. You know what I am. Who I am. Why would I hurt you?”

  “I also know what Chris did to your brother.” I gripped the railing of the banister and stepped behind it. “He told me everything. I also know he’s looking to atone for the things he did, and you’re taking full advantage of that.”

  Scotty tugged on his jacket. “He’s been a great asset to me. I’m quite surprised by it all, to be honest. In just a few days, he’s gotten me further than I did in a couple of years. I’m still not sure whether to trust him or not, but time will tell.”

  “You can trust him,” I said slowly, not liking his attitude toward Chris, even though I understood where it came from. But I knew firsthand just how committed to keeping Scotty safe he was. “He’s telling the truth. I swear it.”

  “No offense, but I’ve known Chris a long time. A lot longer than you have.” Scotty pinched the bridge of his nose. “The thing about him is, he’s always playing an angle, even when you think he’s being sincere.”

  “Not this time.” I crossed my arms and frowned. “He’s dead serious about making it up to you and Lucas. He’s prepared to do anything—anything—to make sure he does.”

  “Yeah. I kinda gathered as much.” He shrugged and looked at the water before turning back to me. He rubbed the back of his neck and ducked his head down, grinning at me mischievously. But underneath that grin was a dedication to his job that couldn’t be ignored, now that I knew his secret. He was the type of guy who would stop at nothing to get his way. Just like Chris. “Can I come in? Guys in my line of work generally don’t like hanging around in the open, since it makes us easy targets, and I need to ask you a few questions. I swear I’m not going to hurt you. Or him.”

  I swallowed, trying to get a better read on him. I was ninety-nine percent certain he was genuine and didn’t intend to do me any harm, but that one percent . . .

  “Yeah. Sure.” I shifted on my feet and dropped my arms back to my sides. “I can make you some coffee, if you’d like.”

  He smiled. “I never turn down coffee—especially when it’s being offered by a beautiful woman. My ma taught me better than that.”

  “Oh yeah?” I walked by him and right into my house. Buttons came to the foyer to greet me, but once he saw Scotty, he took off for the bedroom upstairs. “And your father?”

  “Never knew him.” He shut the door. “Never cared to.”

  So he was that kid, the one who didn’t know his dad and probably acted out in class to get attention. The one who sat in the last row and spit spitballs in girls’ hair. “Ah.”

  He cocked a brow. “Ah?”

  “Yeah.” I shrugged and headed for the Keurig. “Caramel coffee okay?”

  “Perfect.” He sat down at the island, settling in Chris’s favorite stool. It left him facing the front door, which was probably why he chose it. Just like Chris. “Thank you.”

  I nodded, slipping the K-Cup in the machine and pulling out a mug. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

  “Chris.” He rested his elbows on the gray granite, watching me closely. Too closely. “What happened between the two of you?”

  I stared at the coffee as it brewed. Once it was finished, I set it in front of him, leaned over, and positioned myself the same way as him. “I don’t really see how that’s any of your business. Sugar? Cream?”

  “You’re right. It’s not.” He wrapped his hands around his cof
fee and picked it up. “And, no, thank you. I drink it black.”

  I nodded once. “If it’s none of your business, why say anything? What’s your angle?”

  “I don’t have one,” he said, laughing. “But I’ve known him a long time.”

  “So you said,” I answered dryly. “And yet, you still seem to think the worst of him. Was he always a guy you couldn’t trust, or is this a recent development?”

  “Recent.” He blew on his coffee. “But do you blame me for being hesitant? He did a shitty thing. In my world, that makes you a shitty person.”

  “So you’ve never done something shitty?”

  “I never said that. Of course I have.” He gave me that easy grin that was way too perfect not to be fake. “And I’m a shitty person. I freely admit that. So does Chris.”

  “That’s not all he is,” I said defensively. “He’s pretty amazing, once you get to know him. Did you know he draws? Like, really well?”

  Scotty blinked at me. “No shit.”

  “It’s true.” I tipped my head toward the frame I’d hung up last night while half-drunk. Still, it was straight, so I took pride in that, thank you very much. “He did that one.”

  Scotty set his mug down and walked over to it slowly. Almost as if he was scared it might bite. He looked out the window, looked at the drawing again, and whistled through his teeth. “Damn. I had no idea. Though it does explain a few things.”

  “Like what?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “That’s his story to tell, not mine.”

  “He’s not telling me any stories anymore.” I leaned against the fridge, ignoring the pain that the truth sent coursing through my veins. “He left, and he’s not coming back.”

  “He’s been back.” He smirked. “I helped him put that chair on the porch, though he refused to tell me why he got it for you or why it took him twenty damn minutes to write a single line in a card.”

  My fingers twitched and my eyes stung, and suddenly I wanted nothing more than to open that card. “Why are you really here, Scotty? What do you want?”

  “I’ve known him a long time.” The second I opened my mouth, he held up a hand. “Yeah. I know I already said that. Let me talk, dammit.”

  I frowned but remained silent.

  When it became clear I’d let him speak, he continued. “I’ve seen him with a lot of women and I’ve seen him leave a lot of women. He goes from one bed to another without even blinking. I’ve never seen him care or act like he regretted leaving a single one. And he never goes back for seconds.”

  . . . And there went the urge to read the card.

  “Wow. Thanks for telling me he’s already moved on.” I shoved my hair behind my ear. “I’m so glad you stopped by.”

  “Glad to see you still care.” He picked his coffee up again. “But I’m not finished. Like I was saying, I’ve never seen him do any of those things . . . until you.”

  I cleared my throat. “What?”

  “I don’t know what went down between you guys, or how bad it was.” He ran his hand through his hair again. “But he misses you. If you could let him come back, if you could forgive him for whatever bullshit he did—”

  My heart had sped up the second Scotty said Chris missed me, but really, it didn’t make a difference. He still wouldn’t leave the gang, and I still couldn’t be with him. He couldn’t give me the type of life I needed, and quite frankly, I didn’t think I could give him the kind of life he deserved, either. I’d never be content with sitting back and watching him ride out into danger. I’d never be that girl.

  “He didn’t do anything wrong.” I pressed my lips together. “So there’s nothing to forgive.”

  Scotty raised a brow. “There’s always something to forgive.”

  “Not this time. I’d have to be angry with him to forgive him.” I held my hands out. “I’m not. I never was. There’s no anger or betrayal between us. I . . . I love him.”

  “Then why did he leave?”

  “That’s between him and me.” I wrapped my arms around myself. “Why do you care so much, anyway? I thought you hated him. Didn’t trust him.”

  “He’s practically my brother.” He took a sip of coffee. “I could never hate him, and neither could Lucas. It’s why he let him live that day, and why I agreed to it, too. Though Chris might not realize it, we understood why he did what he did, to some extent. With a dad like his, who could blame him for being a little fucked-up in the head sometimes?”

  My heart dropped to my stomach. “What do you mean?”

  “His dad is, and always has been, an abusive asshole. He just hides it well.”

  I bit my lip. “You know this for a fact?”

  “Yeah.” Scotty set the coffee down. “Well, Chris never admitted it or told anyone, but come on. A boy only gets so many bruises on his own. Every other week, he came into school with a fresh cut or a black eye. He always had an excuse, but Chris isn’t exactly a clumsy guy.”

  So my suspicions were correct. He didn’t get birthdays. Didn’t have fun. And had literally been beaten. That had been all he knew. Hatred, pain, and death. No wonder he didn’t know how to love anyone, or even want to love anyone.

  He didn’t even know what love was.

  “That son of a—” I broke off, biting my tongue. “His mother didn’t do anything to help him? Didn’t stop his father?”

  Scotty snorted. “No. He spent more and more time at our place after he got older, but even so, there’s no escaping an abusive father, no matter how far you run.”

  I stared at nothing at all, my mind on Chris and all he’d endured. He’d said he didn’t form attachments or care about anyone, and I got it now. He made perfect sense.

  “He thinks he doesn’t deserve to be happy or to be loved. Everyone who lives the kind of life we do feels that way. How could you not when we do the shit we do?” Scotty set his empty mug down. “Anyway. I’ll go now. I have to meet him at the docks.”

  “Is he okay?” I wrapped my arms around myself. “Like, is he getting shot at daily?”

  Scotty snorted. “They’re shooting, but they keep missing. He’s fine. Reggie is laying low, but he’ll show up sooner or later.” He paused. “Be careful, Molly. Take care of yourself.”

  “I will. Make sure he takes care of himself, too.”

  “I’ll try, but he’s miserable without you.” He walked past me and grabbed my shoulder, squeezing. “And you don’t look so good yourself.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  Really, what was there to say? He was right. I did look, and feel, awful. I missed Chris, too. I missed everything about him—everything except his imminent death.

  As soon as the door closed behind him, I locked it and stared out the window. The black sedan was back, but Scotty didn’t seem to be worried. Maybe it was one of his guys, helping out by keeping an eye on my house or something like that.

  Dropping the curtain back into place, I went into the kitchen and pulled the envelope Chris had left on the chair out of the drawer I’d shoved it in. I stared down at it for a second, took a deep breath, and ripped it open. Inside, it had two lines this time:

  Because you were there, and I knew I would do anything to make you happy.

  I’d let you go. Even it if killed me.

  I held the card to my chest, breathing unevenly as I blinked back tears, because despite my thoughts and the millions of times I’d told myself it was better this way, that our futures didn’t mesh well together, I still missed him and loved him.

  So. Much.

  CHAPTER 25

  CHRIS

  I came out of the florist holding a bouquet of yellow roses and pink tulips and pushed my sunglasses up into place. It had been a long day at the warehouse, showing Scotty the ropes—how he needed to handle sales, what to do when inventory fell low, and security measures for this end of
things. He was getting the hang of it quickly, like I knew he would, and it wouldn’t be long until I wasn’t needed anymore. And to be honest, I couldn’t wait.

  This past week without Molly in my life had shown me something.

  Life was too short to lose someone because you were too scared to be honest. I’d let her go because I thought it was best for her, but who the hell was I to decide what she should or shouldn’t have? Who was I to subtract myself from her life without telling her the whole story and giving her a chance to make her own choices?

  Yeah, I was a killer. Yeah, I was an asshole.

  But I loved her, and I would love her better than any other asshole out there.

  I was already making changes in my life to make sure she wasn’t risking too much if she let me in. I’d never be an office, nine-to-five type of guy. But I had a five-year plan in place. If shit went as planned, the gang would be dead, I would be free, and I’d finally get to be the man she deserved.

  She’d just have to stick it out until I was.

  And if she let me love her, I’d do my best to make sure I didn’t get my fool self killed in the meantime. I couldn’t make any promises, but who could? At any given moment, a fucking meteor could fall out of the sky and kill us all. Life was uncertain.

  Short. Cruel. Crazy.

  But together, it would be a hell of a lot less ugly.

  “Son.”

  I stiffened, the flowers in my hand a telling weakness that I didn’t want my father to know a damn thing about. “Pops.”

  “Who are those for?” he asked, frowning at them.

  “Lucas’s grave.” I shrugged. “Thought it would put on a good show.”

  “A show, huh?” He scratched his neck and shook his head. “Yeah. I’m not buying that.”

  I stiffened. “Not buying what, exactly?”

  “I heard what you did the other night. You were offered Lucas’s position, but you told Tate to give it to Scotty instead—and saved his life instead of letting him die.” Pops shook his head. “What the hell were you thinking?”