Dare to Stay

by Jen McLaughlin

  “I was thinking it would be a good play for the long run.” I pulled my phone out and checked the time. If I left now, I’d be at Molly’s Cape house at sunset. “I know what I’m doing, Pops. I’ve got a plan.”

  “You’ve got nothing.” He tightened his fists. “I should have beat some more sense into you as a kid. Maybe then you’d have taken the position. Damn fool. You have no idea how to play this game properly. You could be raking in money right now, but instead you’re too busy kissing Donahue’s ass. Do you wipe it for him, too?”

  “Maybe I do,” I said dryly.

  Pops flushed. “Should have known better than to think that you could actually do something to make me proud.”

  Once upon a time, those words might have hurt me. But not anymore. I was over it. Over him. “I don’t give a damn if you’re proud of me or not, because you’re nothing but an old man. Time’s running out, Pops. And you know who will be taking over when you’re gone? Me. I don’t play like you do. I’m done trying.”

  As a kid, I’d tried for so long to make him approve of me, to somehow earn his love, as if it mattered at all. As if he was capable of it. He wasn’t. But I was.

  Molly had shown me that.

  It was time to move on. To forget about this asshole and all the bullshit he brought with him. He might be my father, but he wasn’t my dad. He wasn’t anything.

  I was done with him. With Ma, too.

  He grabbed my shoulder as I passed. “You ungrateful little prick. Maybe I should beat some more sense into you before you go.”

  “You’re welcome to try.” I pulled free, rolling my shoulder, and set the flowers down on the hood of my Mustang. “Go on. Hit me. But fair warning: I’m not a scared little kid anymore, Pops. I’ll hit back.”

  I stared at him, waiting to see if he’d follow through.

  He, of course, didn’t.

  Instead, he shuffled back on his feet and shook his head, spitting between my boots. “Prick.”

  “Like father, like son,” I said, grabbing my flowers and opening my door. “Have a nice life, Pops. See you around the clubhouse. Beyond that? Leave me the hell alone.”

  As I shifted the car into reverse, he slammed a hand on the open window. “What about your ma? You can’t abandon her.”

  “Why not? She abandoned me long ago.”

  I stepped on the gas and left my father in the parking lot. He watched me go with a frown, looking like he was about to spit nails, but I felt light as a fucking feather. Grinning, I pulled onto the highway and made my way to Molly. She’d be heading back to work in a couple of days, and if all went well, I’d be with her.

  For the first time, I had hope for the future.

  I was going to have Molly, because I loved her, and I wasn’t giving up on us. When we were together, the world made sense. Everything worked. But when we were apart, it all collapsed and the world became a shit storm.

  That was love.

  If she wanted to date other people while I was still in the gang, I’d accept that. I wouldn’t like it, but I’d accept it. I’d still come by her place, bring her poems and presents, and I wouldn’t even scare the fuckers off as they left her house.

  I’d let them have their fun. Let them think they were going to be happy with my Molly. In the end, she’d be with me. I didn’t need to be her only lover—

  But I intended to be her last.

  The drive to her place passed pretty quickly, and before I knew it, I pulled into her driveway. I sat in the car, staring at her house, and took a deep breath.

  It was time to open myself up to her. To let her in. I was ready for this. I was. I really fucking was. But—what if she laughed at me when I told her I loved her?

  What if she thought the idea was so ludicrous that a guy like me thought a woman as perfect as she was could even debate loving me back? If she did, I’d set her straight.

  I didn’t really think she could love me. I didn’t expect her to. I loved her enough for the both of us. She was scared to care about another person again, to lose someone like she had her father, so I had the perfect solution for that.

  I’d never leave her side.

  But first, I had to go tell her I loved her, and that was the hard part.

  Swallowing, I flexed my fingers on the wheel, staring at the front door. It was the only thing that stood between me and my Molly. She wouldn’t laugh at me. And if she did? Then whatever. I’d be fine. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had laughed at me.

  However, it would be the first time that shooting them in the head wasn’t an appropriate response. Squaring my jaw, I let go of the wheel, grabbed the flowers, opened the car door, and got out. When I was halfway up the walkway, the door opened.

  I froze, not sure if she was about to tell me to fuck off or not.

  “Thanks for dinner.” The asshat with pleated khakis came out the door instead of Molly. That Mitchell guy. I’d never forget the fucker’s name. Not in a million years. “It was delicious.”

  “Anytime. It was nice having someone to talk to,” Molly said, hugging her sweater closed and leaning on the doorjamb. Her back was to me, so she hadn’t noticed me yet. “See you in the summer?”

  “You know it.” Leaning in, the man kissed her temple and hugged her. Molly patted his shoulder. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  I gritted my teeth. Looked like I was going to get some early practice at standing to the side as she dated some asshole who didn’t deserve her.

  He turned around, still smiling—until he saw me.

  I wore a pair of jeans, my leather jacket, and a red T-shirt. He could maybe see some of my ink, but not a whole lot, and he had no idea I had a gun behind my back, tucked into a holster. Even so, he looked scared.

  Good. He should be.

  If he so much as harmed a hair on Molly’s head, he’d be answering to me. And I didn’t knock nicely on doors. I came in with guns and fists.

  He stepped in front of Molly protectively. “We don’t have any money on us.”

  I snorted. I couldn’t help it. We both knew they did.

  “What?” Molly asked, confused.

  “Go back inside,” Mitchell said. “Lock the door.”

  “Why? What’s—?”

  “I didn’t come here for money,” I gritted out. “I came here for her.”

  “But—” Mitchell’s focus shifted to the flowers and his eyes widened with recognition. No shit, Sherlock. I don’t rob people and give them fucking flowers. “Oh.”

  “Yeah. Oh.”

  Mitchell stared me down.

  Molly had frozen the second she heard my voice, but now she slowly faced me. When her eyes locked with mine, my chest hollowed out. It was like someone took a spoon and scooped my heart out. She looked tired. Beautiful, but tired. “Chris?”

  “Yeah.” I tightened my grip on her flowers and inclined my head. “Hi.”

  She stared at me.

  Mitchell frowned. “Chris? As in the artist?”

  “Y-yes.” Molly’s cheeks flushed. “Chris, meet Mitchell. Mitchell, meet my . . . friend . . . Chris.”

  Friend. I walked forward and held a hand out to him, even though I’d rather punch him in the gut and laugh as he fell to the ground wheezing. My nose was mostly healed now, but I still had bruising under my eyes. He was, of course, impeccably groomed. Asshole. “Nice to meet you, man.”

  “Yeah.” Mitchell shook my hand, meeting my eyes and not letting go. “I saw your artwork. You do lovely work. Some of the best I’ve ever seen.”

  I side-eyed Molly. She blushed. “And you know this because . . . ?”

  “The drawing Molly hung up.” He let go of me and glanced at Molly. “She told me you were new to the artist scene but that you’d drawn it for her. That you two were . . . together.”

  I could see the confusion in his ey
es, because he couldn’t picture a girl like Molly with a guy like me. I didn’t blame him. She was all sundresses and babies and the girl next door, while I was leather and guns and a gangbanger.

  On paper, we just didn’t make sense.

  I inclined my head. “I see.”

  “I’d love to talk to you about commissioning a piece from my house. Like you drew for her.” He smoothed his shirt and looked at Molly again. “Maybe over dinner sometime, once you guys are back in town?”

  Seeing as I wasn’t even sure if she’d let me come back, I wasn’t sure how to answer that. “Maybe.”

  “Excellent.” Mitchell cleared his throat. “You good?”

  Molly nodded. “Yeah.”

  “All right. See you this summer.” As he passed me, he frowned. “Nice meeting you.”

  “Likewise.” I walked right up to the door and stopped just short of entering. I was a couple of steps from the woman who held my heart in her hands, even if she didn’t know it. The second we were alone, I said, “I’m sorry that I broke my promise. I swear it’s the only promise I’ll ever break to you, but I couldn’t stay away for another second.”

  She swallowed and didn’t look at me. “Why did you come back?”

  “I had to.” I held the flowers out, locking eyes with her. “I’m sorry.”

  She stepped back, not taking the bouquet. “For what?”

  “For letting you think I don’t care about you.” I held the flowers out more. “I do. I always have. I always will. You’re the one exception to my rule. It’s why I’ve always left you presents and poems and a cat. It’s why I could never stay away from you, no matter how hard I tried, and it’s why I’m here now, holding flowers yet again, with another line to my poem.”

  Her gaze dipped down to the bouquet, and she took it, lifting it to her nose to inhale. Then she looked at me, and I couldn’t read her. “Chris . . .”

  “Let me talk. I have a lot to say. Things I should have said all along, but I was too much of a pussy to do it.” I stepped closer to her. “Not anymore. I refuse to hold this in another second. I said I don’t love anyone, and I said I never would, but I lied. The thing is, I never really knew what love was. Not until the first time I saw you, and you literally stole my breath away, like in one of those corny movies you see.”

  She covered her mouth, eyes wide, with tears in them.

  Well, at least she hadn’t laughed . . . yet.

  “I know I’m not a sure bet and that I live a crazy life. But I’m working on that. Aside from helping Scotty, I have a five-year plan. I’m going to do my best to keep my head down, kill as few people as possible, avoid starting any more gang wars, and help Scotty take down the gangs in Southie. All of them.” I rubbed my jaw. “I’m officially a paid informant, with immunity and all that shit, and every single penny I make is going into funding an arts community center for kids in the middle of Steel Row. I’ll have to be a secret investor, because if Tate finds out, I’m dead, but I’m going to have people there, teaching kids to draw and maybe learn computers, and basketball courts, and anything else I can think of to keep the kids out of gangs. To give them more choices than I had.”

  “That’s wonderful,” she said, her voice sounding choked.

  “And I know you don’t love me and probably never will. Hell, I don’t blame you. And I know you’re scared that if you let me in, it’ll hurt when I die. So don’t let me in. Don’t love me. Don’t need me. Just let me love you.” I took another step closer. One more, and she’d be in my arms. And if she agreed to let me love her, she’d never leave them again. “You don’t need to love me or pretend you do or ever give me your heart. Just let me give you mine, and hold on to it, and I swear on the sun and the moon and the stars that I’ll do my best to make you happy. That I’ll never let you go again.”

  “Chris.” Dropping her hand, she shook her head. “I already l—”

  I saw it out of the corner of my eye, barely. A black sedan slowly pulled up, which wasn’t unusual. Lots of cars drove slowly here. But what was abnormal was the fact that the window rolled down—and a fucking gun came out. “This is for Phil!”

  Reggie. Fucking Reggie. “Shit.”

  And he pulled the trigger on the AK-47.

  CHAPTER 26

  MOLLY

  It all happened so fast.

  One second, Chris was telling me he loved me and had always loved me, and the next he was throwing himself at me. I didn’t even know why until I heard the unmistakable boom of a gun being fired, followed by fast repeats that I’d only ever heard in movies. As I hit the porch, glass exploded behind me and the siding blew out as bullets littered the front of my house like darts in a dartboard.

  Chris landed on top of me, covering my body with his. As we fell, I heard a bullet hit something soft, and Chris groaned. I couldn’t see who was shooting at us, or where from, but I knew one thing. It sounded like one of those bullets had hit Chris . . .

  And he wasn’t moving.

  I arched my neck, trying to see where the threat came from, but he pressed me into the porch more firmly. Thank God. He wasn’t dead. But he was shot.

  There was a short break in the shooting, and Chris lurched up, yanking a gun out from behind his back and firing off a shot at the same time as his feet hit the ground. I looked over just in time to see a man driving a black sedan—the same black sedan I’d seen outside my house a few times—fall onto the steering wheel, his skull and brains painting the window to his left.

  The car kept driving before crashing into Mitchell’s BMW, which was parked in front of his house. Chris collapsed against the house, breathing heavily. His gaze slammed into mine. “Are you hit?”

  “I . . . I . . . no. I don’t think so.” I swallowed hard and struggled to sit up, but my body was trembling too badly. I stared at his left arm, which was rapidly soaking his jacket in dark blood. “But you are.”

  “It’s nothing. Just a flesh wound.” He scanned the road and pulled his phone out, dialing quickly. “Scotty—I got hit outside of Molly’s Cape house. It was Reggie, and he was working alone. I’m going to call Tate and put a spin on it.” A pause, and then: “He’s finished, and I took a bullet to the arm. I’m fine, and so is she.”

  Mitchell came running out of his house, taking it all in and grabbing his hair as he stared at his car. I’d probably have to apologize for that. A nervous laugh escaped me, bubbling out of me in a way that couldn’t be contained, because this was my life now.

  “I need to call Tate before the Boys get here.” Chris shot me a look as he swept his finger over the screen of his phone. “You all right, Princess?”

  “Y-yeah. Sure.”

  He eyed me skeptically but lifted the phone to his ear, anyway. “Sir, I was visiting my girl’s house to make sure everything was okay, and Reggie from Bitter Hill showed up. He’s dead, and I took a bullet to the arm, but there will likely be more retaliation. Since I’m in the Cape area, the Boys are gonna show up any second now, but I’ll make sure this doesn’t fall on us.” When Mitchell came running over, Chris turned his back to us and lowered his voice. I couldn’t make out what he said anymore, but I was past paying attention, anyway.

  “Molly!” Mitchell skidded to a halt at the bottom of the stairs. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m f-fine. He’s shot, though.” I pointed to Chris. “In the arm. You should look at it. Make sure it’s okay.”

  Mitchell didn’t even look at him. He took the steps two at a time and knelt beside me. “You’re not fine. You’re in shock.”

  “Oh.” I laughed again, staring at the blood-splattered car. We’d almost died, and I’d thought Chris had. “Can’t imagine wh-why.”

  Mitchell grabbed my hand. “Molly? Look at me.”

  I didn’t. I couldn’t look away from that car. “He was outside of my house the other day, too, just waiting to shoot Chris. Just w
aiting. Who does that?”

  Chris hung up and came to my side, too, kneeling there. “Hey. Princess.”

  “Yeah?” I asked, finally looking away from the car.

  Sirens blared in the background, already responding.

  “The Boys are almost here,” he said softly.

  Should he run? Hide the gun? Hide himself?

  I jumped, whipping my head to him. “You’re shot and you killed him, and the cops are coming. You have to go. Go. Now.”

  “I’m not leaving you ever again. And I can’t go. People saw us.” He looked at Mitchell pointedly and gently cradled my face in his hands before kissing me. I curled my hands around his wrists, not letting go, tears running down my face. When he pulled back, I strained to get closer. “I’m going to get taken in, but it’s okay. I’ll get out by tonight. It’ll be fine.”

  “No.” I shook my head, tears blurring my eyes. “They can’t arrest you.”

  “I’ll come back. I swear it.” He leaned in and rested his forehead on mine, his fingers tightening on my skin. “I’ll always come back to you.”

  Mitchell cleared his throat and stood. “I’ll go fill the cops in on what happened and give you guys a minute.”

  “Thank you,” Chris said, not taking his eyes off me. “I’ll be right here.”

  Mitchell walked toward the cops, his hands raised in the air.

  “I don’t want you to get arrested.” I clung to Chris and closed my eyes. “He shot at us, not the other way around.”

  “I know, but I shot back, and I’m not supposed to have a gun. It’s against my parole.” He pulled back and smiled at me tenderly. “But we have guys in the Boys, and I have Scotty, too. I’ll be out in a few hours. I promise.”

  I took a deep breath and nodded. “All right.”

  He kissed me again. I tasted my tears on him, and I didn’t want to let go. What if he was wrong and they didn’t let him out? What if he was in jail for years? What if something happened to him in there? What if he got taken out on the inside?