Hale Series Boxed Set

by Marie James

  Once the parking garage started to grow dimmer, indicating that the sun was setting, I pulled together enough courage to get out of my truck. Suddenly I was hit with another emotion, this one nothing like the nerves in the apartment. All of a sudden I’m hit with the realization that the last time I stood in practically this same spot, Ian had called to tell about Alexa being shot. The memory almost brings me to my knees; a thin sheen of sweat covers my skin.

  I do my best to shake it off knowing, hoping, she is upstairs and healthy; recovering from her horrendous night. I opt to take the stairs, giving my nerves a little more time to calm before I face her. I’ve worked through in my head a million times what I would say to her, each and every word lacking the real ability to fully express how I feel about her.

  I know I have to take cues from her, if she even lets me speak. I may be shut down at the door and told to never come back. That thought causes the slight tremble of my hand as I reach up and knock on her apartment door.

  Chapter 34

  Alexa

  The past few weeks have been a very tough but steady climb towards recovery. I’ve spent most days and nights in that monstrosity of a recliner that Lorali bought. If I’m being honest I know that bad boy is going nowhere, even after I’m fully recovered.

  “Have you thought about what you want for dinner?” Josie is on the couch across from me. I’m curled up on my recliner, a soft afghan my grandmother made all around me and tucked under my chin. She is steadily scooping handfuls of cheesy crackers into her mouth.

  “How can you even think about eating?” I motion my head towards the box of crackers on her lap. “You’ve been wolfing down everything in sight for the past hour and a half!” I laugh. She has the metabolism of a damn teenage boy. She eats all day long, like it’s her last meal and never gains an ounce. If I had the energy I’d smack her in the face.

  I’m on soft foods now and the idea of eating one more bowl of oatmeal or another baked potato make me cringe. I’d rather just not eat at all. Lorali was right in the hospital when she mentioned that I’d lose those five stubborn pounds I’d gained since college. I’ve actually lost seven and at this moment in time I’d give anything to have them back plus a few more if it meant I could eat some actual food. I promise myself to never get shot again, if only to avoid the diet restrictions it brings.

  She smiles at me and tosses back another handful of the crackers and it makes my mouth water. “Evil cow,” I mutter to her as she chews loudly and licks the salt off of her fingers.

  “What’s it going to be? Applesauce? Scrambled eggs?” I let out a long huff. Most days I’ll just go ahead and drink a protein shake for dinner because by the end of the day I’m so frustrated with my choices I just give up. I let it slip during my physical therapy appointment today and was chastised. Apparently my body has to get used to the different stages and textures of food again to work properly. I’ve been setting my recovery back by being winey and refusing food in the evenings.

  Before I can grumble and bitch further about my lack of choices, a knock at the door interrupts us.

  Josie looks at me and then back at the door, a slight degree of confusion on her face. We’re not expecting anyone. Honestly Lorali, Ian, and Mallory are the only ones who’ve been visiting and they always call before showing up. Apparently I’ve been rather moody and they call to check the atmosphere before stepping into what Lorali has lovingly labeled “the lion’s den.”

  Josie unfolds herself from the couch and places the open box of crackers on the coffee table in front of her before heading to the door to see who our mystery guest is. Having no concern over who it may be, I continue to flip through channels on the TV all the while bitching under my breath about the less than stellar choices of shows on primetime TV these days.

  It seems like Josie has been gone forever when a movement to the right of me draws my attention. I gasp and drop the remote, barely registering the sound when it hits the hardwood floor and bounces away.

  Garrett is at the threshold of the living room an unreadable expression on his face. I stare at him, taking in his tired, shaggy look. He’s in sweats and a form fitting t-shirt, the sight makes my mouth water and my heart clench simultaneously.

  Before I can manage to look him in the eyes, I notice his scruffy jaw and his overly long hair, that’s in desperate need of a cut. The sight of him confuses me on more than one level. First off why the hell is he here? He’s been MIA for weeks.

  Nineteen days to be exact. I’ve gone nineteen without seeing him or hearing his voice, each and every day hoping he’d show up, each and every night miserable when he didn’t. Every morning I spent hot and horny, waking from ridiculously vivid dreams of us together.

  My confusion extends further at the sight of him. It is completely out of character, from what little I know about him, to be dressed so casually and not to be clean shaven. His hair has always had the appearance of being wild, but anyone with any fashion sense could tell it was styled in perfect chaos. Now, it lays limp on his skull, clean, yet unkempt.

  My eyes finally meet his once magnificent golden orbs. His tired looking eyes revealing a hint of longing, pleading even. I look away and back to the TV before he can see the tears that are building behind my own tired eyes.

  Long minutes pass before I’m able to calm myself enough to look back to him, all the while he stands, drinking in the sight of me. I’m embarrassed. I know my hair is a mess, limp and disgusting from lack of nutritional value in my recent meals; it’s pulled in a super messy pile on top of my hair. I’m wearing no makeup and I know he can see the bags under my eyes; they’re in large part due to lack of sleep and the chronic crying fits I seem to be suffering from late at night.

  I clear my throat. “You should’ve called before coming over,” I inform him raising my hands to my head to attempt to fluff some life in my listless hair. “I’m a mess.”

  “You’re beautiful.” He whispers from across the room. The gruff sound of his voice elicits cold chills to run down my spine.

  I huff, informing him that I know better, but give him a small warm smile of thanks.

  His hands are down by his sides and I can tell he’s nervous about something; his continued attempt to put his hands in absent pockets at his sides.

  “It’s good to see you, Angel” The sound of the pet name from his lips suddenly enrages me.

  “Don’t.” I look him directly in the eyes, hoping he can see the ire in mine. How dare he show up after so long and think he can just pick up where he left off. The hurt and confusion in his eyes abate rather than stoke the fire raging me. “You could’ve seen me anytime you wanted to. It’s not like I haven’t been sitting in this apartment day in and day out for the past two weeks.”

  He slowly nods his head, agreeing with me then lowers his eyes to his feet, toeing his shoe and an imaginary spot on the floor. His silence almost makes me want to apologize for being so brusque. Almost.

  I bite my lower lip to keep from talking. There has to be a reason he’s here and I’m in no mood to have to pull it from him.

  “I was married,” he blurts, raising his eyes to mine to take in my reaction.

  If he was looking for a pure shock and awe moment, he got half of it. I’m pretty sure my in-much-need-for-attention eyebrows are in my hairline right now; my mouth hangs open and I’m unable to pull my thoughts together quickly.

  Married?

  “Okay?” I manage in an attempt to prompt him into more detail.

  “Jamie was my high school sweetheart,” he begins to explain. “We both moved to Los Angeles to go to college right after high school graduation.”

  I can’t help but lean in, waiting for the rest of the story. He looks up and to the left, accessing the memories before he continues to speak.

  “Less than half way through our freshman year we started having problems. She’d come home late at night; she wanted to stay out late drinking with her friends and never wanted me around.” He sighs and looks
at me. “Christmas break came and we found out she was pregnant.”

  I gasp and my hand covers my mouth before I can stop it from escaping. Pregnant! How did I not know he was a father? I’m now questioning if my feeling for him are true since I obviously know nothing about him.

  He seems to ignore my reaction and the flabbergasted look on my face and continues. “At first I was totally scared. What business did two nineteen year olds have raising a baby? But she seemed to settle down for a bit and that made me happy. The partying stopped and she wanted more to do with me, rather than pushing me away every time I went to touch her.”

  His weight shifts against the door frame but he makes no move toward the couch to get more comfortable and I don’t offer. His proximity in my apartment is stimulating enough and I don’t need him any closer until he discloses his whole story; one he seems at this point all too willing to share.

  “About two months into the pregnancy I hinted at the possibility of marriage and she jumped at the idea. I should have questioned why one minute she didn’t want me to touch her and the next she was practically doing back flips to get my ring on her finger, but I loved her.”

  His words sting, the painful jolt hitting my heart like an inessential defibrillator, threatening to stop my heart. He loved someone else. His heart has been broken and I think I know where this story is going. The tragic, my wife and baby died and I’m unable to love again: you’re only wasting your time having feelings I can’t return story sure to come next from his mouth.

  I’m almost in tears when he continues.

  “I wanted to marry her in front of my entire family and hers, but agreed to a Justice of the Peace ceremony when she told me she’d be embarrassed when people found out we were expecting. I tried to convince her that everyone would be overjoyed and there was nothing to feel shameful about, but she was insistent.

  “We married when she was fourteen weeks a long and her bump was barely visible.” He drops his head and takes a moment before he continues.

  I pull the afghan that has fallen away back under my nose, wishing I had more protection from the bomb that’s about to drop in the middle of my living room floor.

  “Not long after we said our vows, she started to pull away again. I knew she wasn’t partying because she would never do that to the baby, but she’d be late for things with flimsy excuses and I even caught her in several lies. My suspicions grew to the point that I got into her email account and discovered that she had been emailing another man.” I groan, drawing his attention to me.

  “Garrett, I’m so sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say. Getting cheated on sucks.

  He huffs and gives me a little smile. “That’s only the beginning. I found one email where she had sent the sonogram photo of our little boy to him. The content of the email is what turned everything upside down in my world. I can still see the words ‘here’s the first picture of your little boy!’ like I read them five minutes ago.”

  “Holy fuck!” I exclaim with no attempt to cover my shock.

  “Yeah,” he mutters and drops his head again.

  Chapter 35

  Garrett

  Finally telling Alexa my back story is more cathartic than I thought was ever even possible. I’ve kept this whole story to myself. Since we married in private and only my closest family, including only my parents and Ian, the train wreck that happened next was kept pretty quiet.

  Knowing I have to actually say the words I continue. “I confronted her about it. At first she tried to deny it but confessed once I showed her the printed emails she’d been sending to this guy.” I twist my neck and make it pop trying to relieve the tension that sitting there. It doesn’t work.

  “If I’d done the math months before I would have known there was no way the baby was mine. Not having sex for two months before the positive pregnancy guarantees that.” I shake my head, reliving my naivety all over again.

  Alexa motions for me to sit down, but I shake my head at her in refusal.

  “Why are you telling me all of this now?” She whispers. I know she needs to know what my motivation is; what my reasoning is for showing up unannounced with this tragic story.

  I close my eyes and the harsh exhalation of breath that leaves my lungs have more to do with coming to terms with my past than being upset at her question.

  “I need to explain why I acted the way I did three weeks ago. I need you to understand my motives behind how I’ve dealt with women since my divorce thirteen years ago.” I look her directly in the eye and continue. “I need you to understand why I freaked out when you said what you did. More importantly I need you to understand why realizing that I love you too sent me off the rails for a while.”

  I’m unable to read the look on her face, other than knowing it is one of complete and utter shock. This could go either way.

  She remains silent, just staring at me like I’m an anomaly and if she blinks her eyes I’ll disappear.

  “Really?” She finally whispers, an almost discernible smile on her beautiful face. “You love me?”

  My face softens at her question. “Yeah,” I smile at her, “I do.”

  Her smile falls and her eyes darken; the twitch at the right corner of her stern lips has me nervous. This is the moment I have been looking forward to and hoping would never come in equal measure.

  “And you came to this realization when, Garrett?” The pain and distain in her voice make my heart nearly stop.

  “In the shower.” I answer truthfully.

  “Today?” She prods.

  “No, Angel.” I swallow roughly. “In the shower, minutes after you admitted that you love me.”

  Her face turns red and she looks like she’s about to blow a gasket. If this was a movie this is the point that the producers would add steam coming out of her ears. She’s pissed and I can’t determine which part of this evening is upsetting her the most.

  “Three fucking weeks, Garrett!” She holds three fingers up in front of me for emphasis. “Three weeks I have been miserable; crying myself to sleep every night! And you tell my now that you knew you loved me this whole time? What the fuck is wrong with you?!?”

  I know I’d stumble back if I wasn’t already leaning against the wall; her anger terrifies me and is making my cock thicken at the same time. I’m worried I’m protruding straight out towards her and I do my best to glance down at my dick inconspicuously. It doesn’t work; my quick look draws Alexa’s eyes to the front of my tenting pants. I want to kick myself for not throwing on a pair of jeans, now needing the tighter constriction.

  Her gaze returns to my face without even acknowledging the growing situation down below.

  “I was here when Ian called and told me you’d been shot,” I explain. “I came to tell you how I felt.” I shake my head trying to once again rid it of the memory of that horrible call.

  “You came after m…me?” She stammers, her head shaking slightly in disbelief. “You didn’t say anything at the hospital.”

  “I never left your side. I told you over and over while you were unconscious, but when you woke up,” my voice quivers and I clear my throat before continuing. “You acted like you wanted nothing to do with me. I thought you regretted telling me and even worse that you’d never meant to say it in the first place.”

  It is almost impossible to stay rooted in this spot, especially when she lowers her head and I see a tear trickle down her cheek.

  “Angel?” She raises her head and the glistening of her eyes nearly crushes me. “Did you mean it?”

  She nods her head and whispers, “yes.”

  I surge across the room and fall to the floor in front of the biggest, ugliest recliner I’ve ever seen, clasping her tiny hands in my own. “Do you still?” She doesn’t answer right away and the wait is torture.

  Sweeping an unruly patch of hair out of my eye, she watches my face, her eyes switching back and forth to each of mine. Giving myself a slight reprieve I look away and place my head in her lap and kiss
her hands clasped in mine; a silent plea for the answer to be what I need to hear.

  She gently runs her fingers through my hair from my forehead to my nape, the motion soothing and welcome. Suddenly my head is pulled up roughly; her fingers gripping large chunks of the overgrown length.

  The look in her eye is feral, animalistic and dark. She licks her lips eliciting a low growl from my throat, my cock once again thick and rigid.

  “I need to fuck you, Garrett.” She purrs never letting go of my thick patch of hair.

  “Alexa, you’re not healed. I don’t want to hurt you.” I objected immediately, knowing I’d do everything in my power to never cause her pain again.

  “If I wanted lip from you, Garrett, I’d sit on your face!” I like aggressive Alexa, my cock growing even harder loves her apparently.

  I smile up at her, my uncontrollable grin eating up my entire face. “Please?” I beg.

  Chapter 36

  Alexa

  Garrett declaring his love for me is almost as thrilling as the look of pure lust and desire in his eyes right now. Hopefully his love will still be around when I’m done with him, but my sexual need seems to be the only thing I can focus on. I don’t think I’ve gone three weeks without sex since…hell…I can’t even remember, which I know is rather whorish, but hey it is what it is!

  “You’re begging to let me sit on your face?” I smirk down at him, only marginally easing my grip in his hair. I kind of like it this long, the perfect tugging length allowing me to be able to control him a little better.

  He pants roughly and nods his head as much as he can in my grip. I bite my lip again, drawing his attention to them, but he doesn’t make a move. Is he giving me all the power this time around, allowing me to control him for once? The idea thrills me.