Finding Fate

by Charisse Spiers

  I go to pull the backpack on, but the second it rubs against my skin my back arches. Konnor grabs it from me, anger written all over his face. “Let’s go. You’re not staying here another second.”

  We all three run down the stairs after returning my room to the locked state it was in, cutting off all lights on the way and locking the doors. I follow them down the street in my pajamas to a black Expedition sitting in the driveway of a house that just sold. The doors unlock before I get to the door, and we all jump in, but I stay seated on the edge of the seat.

  We remain quiet as he starts the engine and backs out of the driveway, focusing on getting us out of the subdivision through the maze of streets. When he makes it out onto the main highway that runs through the center of town, I stare out the window, watching everything I’ve known my entire life pass me by. He doesn’t let up except for the one red light that stopped us until we’re on the interstate, heading toward New Orleans.

  “What the fuck happened, Gabby?” Konnor says, breaking the comfortable silence. “Just start from Maddox’s house.”

  I breathe out. “Maddox asked me to move to Miami with him. I said yes. I woke up, unable to go back to sleep, so I went to pack my bags to be ready to leave when y’all were. I didn’t want to be a hold-up. My dad showed up, sedated me, and locked me in my room. He somehow figured out about Maddox being in town and us together. I don’t know how. He wanted me to take emergency birth control. I refused. I’m not going to be with who he wants me to be with. I choose who I love. When you disobey my dad, he punishes. He uses real leather.”

  “Jesus,” he says, and then opens the center console, pulling something out of it. “Does this have anything to do with him wanting you to take it?” he asks, handing me a photo upside down. I recognize the handwriting on the back before I even look at the photo, my eyes already welling up.

  “Where did you get this?” I ask, tears falling before I can stop them. I only look at it once a year, on his birthday, when I buy a small cake from the local grocery store bakery and light a candle with his age. It’s all I can take. And then I stay drunk or high for a week after, until I can pull myself together again. But it’s here, out of the pouch I keep it in, and I can’t help myself.

  “Autumn found it in the front of your bag looking for a clue of where you may have gone. She asked if I knew anything about it. We got your stuff. We have a long drive to the airport. You gotta start talking, Gabby. You’re my friend, but Maddox is my friend too.”

  I turn it over, emotionally breaking as I look at my son on the day he was born, remembering that dream and nightmare rolled into one like it was yesterday. Later that night, when my baby wasn’t allowed to come back in the room because the adoptive parents were there with the guardianship orders that gave them temporary custody to take the baby when he was discharged until the adoption was final—both legal documents in which I was forced to sign—and my father had left for the night to go home, the nursery tech that was there when he was taken from me came in my room. She had taken a photo of him in the nursery with her personal cell phone when it was a shift change and offered to send it to my cell phone as long as I didn’t tell anyone due to the fact that she could lose her job. I hid my cell phone for days after, making sure my dad didn’t find it and report her before I could have it printed, and then emailed myself a backup just in case. I’ve never shown a single person.

  I stare at him. He’s beautiful. Honestly, I’m tired of hiding him. I hate keeping him a secret like he never existed. I’m not ashamed of him, even given the fact that I got pregnant at fourteen. He was created in love with someone that I still want as much as the day I fell in love with him. “His name is Madden Leroy, after Maddox. The last time me and Maddox had sex after my dad found out about us and threatened to press charges if he didn’t leave town was when I snuck away to tell him goodbye on the day he had to leave. We were emotional. We weren’t thinking. I got pregnant. I was fourteen. My dad wanted me to have an abortion. I begged him for three days not to force me to do that. Threatened to run away if he tried. He agreed to let me carry it to term but the deal was I had to homeschool until he was born once I started to show and then give him up for adoption. I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone. Maddox was gone. I tried not to get attached to him, knowing I couldn’t keep him, but I felt him move inside me, especially when I talked to him. My heart loved him already. Then he was born. I cried, begged, and screamed for him to let me keep him. When a young female gets pregnant she becomes an emancipated minor. He used the only thing on me he knew would work for me to turn him loose—Maddox. A baby is proof we made him together. I was underage. He was eighteen. I gave up our son to keep him out of jail. I haven’t seen him since the day he was pried out of my arms in that hospital bed.”

  Presley climbs over the center console and sits beside me, pulling me into a hug, and then she starts to rock, letting me cry against her. “I think me and you are going to have a lot more in common than you think.”

  Ten

  Maddox

  I pry my eyes open, blasted with daylight coming through my blinds. My skull feels like it’s going to explode. Those Southern Comfort shots come back to me. “Fuck,” I groan, and then force myself into a sitting position, massaging my temples with my thumb and fingers.

  “Feel like shit? ‘Cause you look like shit.”

  I look at Riggan standing in my doorway. “Stop screaming.”

  He tosses me a bottle of water. I twist off the cap and down it. “Ready to deal with your little problem in the basement?”

  My eyes lock on his as the last drop pours into my mouth, and suddenly, pieces of last night come back, one after the other, with holes in between from where I clearly blacked out. I close my eyes and shake my head in shame, returning the cap to the empty bottle. “And Blondie? How bad did I embarrass myself?”

  He smirks at me. “Wants to fix your sorry ass. You two share this weird little friend love for each other. She has a lot of Maddox love going on and wants to make you happy again, so don’t be surprised if she seems overly helpful. You take that shit and shove it down your throat after me letting her get in the shower with you.”

  I groan, and then open the top drawer to my nightstand, pulling out a pair of clean boxer briefs, sliding them on, before getting up and pulling on the first pair of clothes I find—khaki cargo shorts and a red tee shirt. I comb my fingers through the longer part of my hair on top. Might as well get it over with. “What do they look like? Are they at least hot like I remember them in my head?”

  “And if I said no?”

  “Shit. I was trashed.”

  He laughs. “Eh, they’re no comparison to princess, but they’re claimable.”

  I roll my eyes. “Who would compare to blondie with you?”

  “No one. She’s unmatchable. But Gabby comes pretty fucking close if I were going to try. She looks a lot different than I remember, even if she still had her blonde hair.”

  My heart sinks. He’s trying to get a rise out of me. Everyone knows Gabby is hot. She’s a blend you can’t put into words between her dad and mom. Once you’ve seen her she’s unforgettable. But Riggan doesn’t comment on his friends’ girls. He never has. “That’s fucked up, Rig.”

  “Twenty-four hours between girls is a new low for you. You’re escalating.”

  My eyes gloss over. I’m not doing this here. “Yeah, well, what do you want me to do? I put every fucking thing on the table and woke up to her gone and not answering her phone. My heart can’t be ripped out any more than it already is.”

  He glances at his phone and shoves it back in his pocket, before turning to go down the stairs. “Come on. Let’s get this over with. This isn’t a hotel.”

  I jog down both sets of stairs behind him and we make our way toward the basement, but just before we get to the door it swings open, Kaysen walking out, yawning and brushing his hair down. He glances at Riggan first and nods, then looks at me. “Bro, what happened to you?”

&
nbsp; “I passed out. They gotta go.”

  “Yeah . . . pretty sure I just figured out big tits has a boyfriend. He’s been blowing her phone up for the last hour. I’m taking their asses back to the club. I’m not trying to die today by pulling up at someone’s house. Unless, of course, you want to do it. She fucked you first.”

  “Not really.”

  He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Didn’t figure you would, asshole. You owe me one.” He opens the basement door. “Yo, let’s go.”

  The shame is already washing over me just from the sound of them walking up the stairs. I turn around and make my way to the garage door to see them out, as in, to make sure they walk out the door. Konnor’s Tahoe pulls in the garage as I open the door. Where’s he been?

  As soon as he kills the engine, the two front doors and one back opens. “I have a bone to pick with you,” Konnor says, his hair all over his head and his eyes red like he’s tired.

  “Where have y’all been?”

  He rounds the front and grabs my shirt, pulling me out the door toward Presley’s side, where she’s gathering stuff out of the front, and then he walks in front of me, letting go as we get close to the back door. He pulls someone out from behind it by the shuffling of feet, spinning around to face me, and the next thing I know I’m staring at a back. “You ever seen this before? Because I’ve never seen fucking whip marks look like this. They go all the way down her goddamn legs.”

  I blink, my eyes studying every red, angry mark, taking on the appearance of raw skin. She tries tugging down her shirt, but he’s got his fist clenched around the fabric and holding her head to his shoulder. “You’re my friend, but I swear to God, if you knew he does this to her, especially after last night, I’m going to beat your ass myself.”

  “What?”

  “Konnor, I said it’s fine. Please stop making a scene.”

  My eyes close at the sound of her voice. No. I pull at my hair, panic setting in, but then grab her arm to turn her around. Her dark eyes meet my green, making my heart stumble over itself to keep beating. “Gabby,” I whisper. “Where the fuck have you been?”

  “Locked in my room at Dad’s. He knew we were together. I went to pack my stuff. He knocked me out with a sedative to get me back home. I guess he wised up and knew I wasn’t going to come willingly.”

  “He did that to you because you were with me?”

  “Yes and no.”

  “Jesus Christ. I’m going to kill him.”

  “No, you’re not. He’s my dad. And I fought this hard to keep you out of jail. You sure as hell aren’t going now.”

  The second her head tips and she looks around me, I know I’m fucked. When her eyes meet mine, she’s different. She’s that girl I watched beat an older girl’s ass at thirteen. The one that makes me hard with one foul word. The one that has me so fucking pussy-whipped I can’t see straight. The one I can’t let go of no matter how much time passes or how hard I try. Fuck. Now is not the time. She’s going to castrate me. “You took off in the middle of the night. I thought you left me,” I throw out like the pussy that I am with her. “You weren’t answering your phone.”

  “Wow. You can’t even let your food settle before ordering skank off the menu?”

  “I was upset. I went out. I was trashed. I regretted it the second it was over. I always do; even before you came back in the picture.”

  “Which bimbo? Big boob Britney or wannabe Sandra D?”

  “Why is that relevant?” Her stare hardens, making me want to crawl in a hole. Gabby’s dark brown eyes are lethal when she’s angry. “Both.”

  “You son of a bitch. I can’t even look at you right now.”

  She walks past me. I grab her arm. “Gab, they’re never you.”

  She steps closer and grips my chin in her hand, bringing her lips toward mine. My breathing quickens. “That’s right, baby. No one will ever fuck you like me. I have your heart and live in your mind. The way you react to me—no one else will ever do that. The way I feel right now, knowing you were in another girl twenty-four hours after me, isn’t a tenth of the way you’ll feel over knowing your friends were out looking for me while you were fucking a pair of club whores. And when you’re oiling down my back later, staring at every mark, you can repeat to yourself as you count them that I stood there at the foot of my bed and took every one for us. Still, I’m the one that came to you. What did you do to fight for this? Not a motherfucking thing.” A droplet runs from the bottom of my eye. She watches it all the way down. “At least I know you still have a heart to break. Make sure the hookers get back to the street corner you found them on.”

  She releases me and walks toward the door, passing between everyone as they move aside to let her by, and the second the door shuts my feet start to move, but Riggan grabs me by the shoulder and pulls me back before I can reach the doorknob. “Let her cool off before you fuck it up more. You’re too emotional right now.”

  Anxiety spreads through my body, my heart is jacked-up, and I can’t fucking breathe. With every pull of air my lungs ache. Every word is echoing through my mind like it’s coming through a loudspeaker. Dizziness washes over me. Nausea rises. My vision is blacking in. I’m hot, and my temperature is spiking with every second. I’m starting to feel clammy, or wet, maybe covered in sweat. I don’t know. But every time I inhale it feels like a thick fog of smoke instead of clean air. I cough. “He’s fucking panicking,” Riggan says from behind me, holding me against his chest. I waver. “Breathe!” he orders directly into my ear.

  “Kaysen, get them out of here,” Konnor yells. I blink hard, trying to keep focus on what’s in front of me—the door my life disappeared behind. If this is what dying feels like, it’s not peaceful at all. I need her. Nothing more. Nothing less. Her.

  Eleven

  Gabby

  I carefully sit on the edge of Maddox’s bed, looking around at the room. He only has basic furniture, like all he does is dress and sleep here. Nothing to show this space is his. I sigh. I’m not going to lie. It causes me pain to hurt him, even knowing it was out of my own damn heartache, but it’s so easy when I know I’m the one and only weakness he has. These are the moments I want to hate my dad the most, because he’s not only hurting Maddox, he’s also hurting me. Had he left me the fuck alone, those girls wouldn’t have been here, and then I wouldn’t be pissed. None of the times we’ve been apart have been because we wanted to break up, and that’s why it’s hard to stomach him with someone else. That was always the thing that made telling guys no to sex easy for me. It’s not like I didn’t have plenty of chances.

  Guys cope with their dicks more times than they don’t. I know this. I even said it to myself when I realized what had happened. I should have just woke him up to begin with and none of this would have happened. He would have either been with me or known something was wrong when I didn’t come back. When it comes to my dad fucking our relationship up, I’ll always forgive him. That doesn’t mean I’m not going to make him grovel a little to earn it.

  A knock sounds at the door. “Gabby, it’s Sayler.”

  “Come in.”

  She opens the door and wipes her cheek. “I know you probably want to be alone right now, but . . .” She sniffles. “Maddox isn’t breathing. They can’t calm him down long enough to get him to. He’s starting to turn blue.”

  I shake my head and get off the bed. “That dumbass. Where is he?”

  “In Konnor and Presley’s shower. They’re trying steam.”

  “Take me to him.”

  She takes off running down the top staircase, then hurries along the short hall to the other one. I follow her down both flights of stairs, across the house, through the kitchen, and into the master suite. The shower is running. Rain-like droplets hit against the tile floor. It’d be a soothing sound if male voices weren’t making commands for simple exercises that should be natural.

  I walk through the bathroom door, my heart faltering a little at the sight of Maddox sitting on the sho
wer floor, wet, legs outstretched in front of him and his back and head against the shower wall. His face is a disaster that consists of tears and discoloration, his lips blue, and his chest isn’t moving. His eyes lock with mine, but he doesn’t move.

  Riggan looks at me from where he’s standing in the opening of the shower, worry marring his face. “Gab, you gotta do something. He’s freaking me the fuck out.”

  I touch Riggan’s side to move past him, making my way into the shower. The water sprays me as I dart under it, keeping my hair out of its path, moving to the opposite side. I stop in front of him. “After all the shit we’ve been through, if you think I’m going to let you die now, you’ve got another thing coming, asshole.”

  His mouth curves upward just a hair, but his chest still isn’t moving. Each foot on one side of his legs, I lower myself on his lap until I’m straddling him, and then I press my chest to his, dipping my hands under the back of his shirt so that I can feel his skin. As if he was waiting for me, his arms encircle my waist and he squeezes tight. Cheek to cheek, my lips to his ear, I say, “You may be a jackass sometimes, but I need you. Breathe with me.” His body relaxes a little. “Inhale.”

  I breathe in deep, making it a verbal instruction. He follows, and though it’s shallow, it’s a start. “Exhale.”

  I release a heavy breath. His is short. “Again. Inhale.” We both breathe in at the same time. His is better this time. “Exhale.”

  With every one we do together they get deeper and longer, stronger, until finally, he starts breathing on his own, and before long, our chests are moving in a back and forth rotation, the oxygen around us sustaining life. “I’m sorry,” he cries, hugging me tighter. I ignore the throbbing when he brushes one of my lash marks on accident. “I swear to God I thought you left. I called you for hours. I messed up. I’ll do anything for your forgiveness. I can’t do this shit anymore, Gab. Nothing in this life matters to me without you in it.”