“You know what I think?” I ask, stepping closer to him. My eyes drift to the shoes and back to him. “I think you’re fucking lost. I think you don’t know who you are or what you want. More than that, I think you’re the biggest coward I’ve ever met. You’re so afraid of losing the people in your life you throw them away.”
“That’s not true,” he argues.
“Sure it is,” I spit. “Those people, the guy and the girl from the ice place…those people care about you. I saw the way they looked at you, it’s obvious they miss you and you barely acknowledged them. You ran from them just like you’re running from me and that’s fine,” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat. Tears sting my eyes but I’ll be damned if I shed any of them for Lee or any other man. No, my days of crying are over.
“Truth?” I ask.
He lifts his eyes to mine.
“What’s one more blow,” he replies.
“I’m glad you did this. Hell, I’m even thankful. At least my kids won’t have to look at your back when you walk away because I won’t let them get close enough to see.”
“Layla.”
“Stay away from them and stay away from me.”
“Killer—”
“You need God, Lee,” I interject, turning my back to him.
I don’t look back either.
I hold my head high and remind myself of the undeniable truth that rejection stings no matter the age. When you’re younger, you think the world is going to implode. You cry and wonder how you’ll go on, if they’ll ever be another and all that ridiculous bullshit. But when you’re older, after you’ve lived enough life and learned from your past, you know rejection is also a blessing.
You realize you don’t want anyone in your life who doesn’t want to be there.
You don’t beg them to stick or ask them to choose you because you know you’re worth more than that.
You are worth more than any man’s doubt.
I am worth more than that.
Chapter Twenty-eight
After watching Layla and her kids disappear into the house, I made my way back to my home, to where Oksana’s shoes were waiting to remind me those people were not mine to have. Instead of leaving the shoes there by the door, I lifted them in my hands and carried them through the house and into the garage. I didn’t want them anymore. They no longer represented Oksana’s short life. No, those shoes stood as a road block between me and everything I suddenly wanted from life.
Finding a cardboard box on one of the shelves, I shoved the shoes inside and carried them back to the living room. I stood there for a moment trying to decide what to do with them before setting the box on the chair. My conscience wouldn’t allow me to get rid of them, but I couldn’t stand looking at them either.
Needing a reprieve from all the truth being shoved in my face, I pulled a shirt over my head and got lost in my garage. Back in the day, when shit got too real, I’d go to my shop, slide underneath a car and lose my mind in repairs. It helped me relax and cleared my mind. However, that wasn’t an option anymore. Like everything else, I lost my business. It didn’t matter that I willingly gave it up…a loss is still a loss.
With nothing but Layla’s car to get lost in, I spent the next few hours finishing it up. Tommy would be upset that I didn’t wait for him but it would teach him a lesson. It would give him insight to who I truly am. A disappointment to some and a fucking bastard to others. A fuck up who doesn’t have a place in the lives of good people.
Finishing the last of the repairs, I glanced over at their house. Like any other lost soul in the world who wants what they can’t have, I tortured myself hoping to catch a glimpse of them. I wished that Layla would come outside or that Tommy would ring my phone. Maybe half-pint would come out and ask me to give her a ride on my bike—that seemed to be her newest obsession. Hell, I’d take Jenna and all the boy band talk she did over the silence waiting for me back home.
None of that happened and so I got reacquainted with my trusting friend, Johnny Walker. By the time Layla showed up, I was half a bottle deep in misery. I should thank her for that kiss. I wasn’t banking on getting another taste of that wicked mouth before I killed what we were building. It was a beautiful parting gift from a beautiful woman.
A woman I didn’t deserve.
A woman I refused to ruin.
She doesn’t realize what it took to cut her loose. Walking away was never so hard and while it may be the first selfless act of my life, it didn’t feel as good as I thought it would.
Being a selfish prick is the way to go.
It doesn’t hurt one bit.
But doing the right thing kills.
She called me a coward, told me I needed to find God, and maybe I did. Maybe it was time I got right with the man upstairs. I wonder how receptive he’d be to a sinner like me.
Hurting Layla was hard enough, but disappointing Tommy was outright brutal. The following morning, I woke up hung over and miserable. I ripped the smile right off the kids face when he showed up eager to work. I told him I finished the car without him and handed him the keys. It was then I noticed the similarities between mother and son. Tommy and Layla both wore their hurt on their sleeves.
The torture didn’t stop there though.
Why would it?
When it was time to take the girls to school, Lexi ran toward my house and I watched Layla pull her back. The kid wanted me to take her to school.
She wanted me.
Layla did what she does best and faked a smile to her youngest as she told her first lie.
Lee has a life of his own.
The truth is; this is no life.
No life at all.
Life lives next door.
A beautiful life.
I spent years knocking the family guy, called him a sucker, and here I am at the crossroads of life wishing I stood in his shoes.
Draining the last of my alcohol into the sink, the doorbell sounds and drags me away from my pity party. I place the empty bottle on the counter and wipe my hands. Making my way to the door, I know it’s not Layla on the other end. I watched from the window as she left for work.
I go down the list of possible visitors, deciding it’s either Jack or one of the nomads paying me a visit since all the others got their jabs in already. Pulling open the door, I’m surprised to find Lexi standing on the porch.
“Half-pint, what’re you doing here?” I ask, sticking my head out the door expecting to find Layla but her car isn’t in the driveway.
“I have a bone to pick with you,” she replies, placing her hands on her hips as she glares up at me. She’s clearly got her mother’s fire.
“Hold it,” I interrupt, glancing at my watch. “It’s nearly midnight, what the hell are you doing up?”
“You said hell,” she points out.
“Yeah and you snuck out of the house at night,” I point out, grabbing her hand and bringing her out of the cold. “Let me get my boots and I’ll take you back home. I take it Tommy is in charge?”
“Yeah.”
Fucking kid.
He was doing so good.
Grabbing my boots from the floor, I sit on the bottom step and start to put them on. Feeling her eyes on me, I turn my head. For a little firecracker, her spark is suddenly dull and I swear I see tears in her big brown eyes.
“Lexi?”
“Did we do something wrong?” she blurts.
Looking closely, I curse myself.
Those are tears in her eyes.
“Come here, half-pint,” I order softly, crooking my finger. Walking over, she stands in front of me and the tears fall. Quickly, I reach out and wipe them away with my thumb.
“Quit crying, girl. You’re too pretty to cry.”
“Mommy says you’re not going to be coming around all that much. That you have things you need to take care of and we shouldn’t bother you. Is that true?”
Jesus, fuck.
“You’re not a bother,” I assure her, drawing out a
sigh.
“I’m not?”
“God, no,” I rasp. “You’re sunshine, kid.”
Sunshine.
I finally understand why Jack calls Reina his sunshine. She shined a little light on the darkest days of his life.
“So we can still be friends? You’ll still take me on your bike when I turn ten?” she asks hopefully and I can’t help but smile at her.
“A promise is a promise,” I reply.
As long as I’m alive I’ll find a way to make good on my word.
“Good, I kind of like having you around. We’re never late to school when you take us and Mommy smiles a lot more since we met you. I don’t want you to disappear like everyone else does.”
I force myself to swallow as she speaks of a truth I understand too well. It takes me a minute to pull my shit together and I can look her in the eye again.
“I don’t want to disappear, kid.”
Another truth.
Tugging her pigtails, I pull myself up and hold out my hand.
“Let’s get you home,” I tell her.
“Okay,” she agrees with a smile.
Fucking sunshine right there in a little half-pint. Glancing down, I watch her place her little hand in mine and notice she isn’t wearing any shoes. Her feet are covered in mud and freshly cut blades of grass are wedged between her little toes.
“Where are your shoes?”
“I forgot to put them on,” she admits.
Without giving myself a chance to change my mind, I bend down and sweep her into my arms. Leaving my door open, I walk outside and straight for Layla’s. Holding her with one arm, I bang my fist on the door repeatedly before Tommy pulls it open, holding a baseball bat high above his head.
“Put the bat down, kid,” I grunt.
“Shit,” he mutters, lowering the bat.
“Yeah,” I say, pushing the door open. Walking past him, I set Lexi down.
“What is she doing with you?” Tommy asks, closing the door behind him.
“Go wash your feet and get ready for bed,” I tell Lexi before turning to Tommy. “Shouldn’t you know that?” I question, crossing my arms against my chest. “Come on, kid. Your mother put you in charge, you gotta do better.”
“Well, to be fair I was preoccupied,” he argues, pointing to the couch.
Heaven help this kid if there is a girl on that fucking sofa. Glancing over my shoulder, I spot Jenna. Her face is just as blotchy and red as it was the day I saw her father drop her off.
“Jesus Christ, what happened?” I ask, uncrossing my arms.
“Dad called earlier and told her he wasn’t driving up here on Mom’s weekend to take her to some dance.”
“It’s not just some dance,” Jenna cries. “It’s the father daughter dance and I’ll be the only girl without her dad there.”
Yeah, it might be time to have that sit down with the big guy up in the sky. He’s clearly not happy with me and has made it his mission to fuck with me. I’ve got to give him credit though. Of all the shit he’s thrown at me, this takes the cake. Two crying girls and a kid barely holding it together with a baseball bat.
Top that shit.
Rubbing my hands over my face, I roll my neck from side to side trying to find the words to make this right for Jenna. While telling her that her old man is a dick who doesn’t deserve her might make me feel better, it won’t dry her eyes.
“I called Mom, but she’s not answering her phone,” Tommy offers, leaning closer to me so only I can hear him. “Man, what if this is like a period thing? I don’t know what to do.”
“And you think I do?” I hiss.
Sighing, I walk around the back of the couch and take a seat on the coffee table.
“I’m sure he’d be here if he could,” I lie. I have no fucking idea what could be more important or worth breaking his daughter’s heart.
“I’ve got it,” Lexi exclaims, jumping on the couch.
“Didn’t I tell you to go wash your feet? You’re getting mud all over your mother’s couch.”
Ignoring me, she smiles wide and jumps higher.
“You’re a real pro at this,” Tommy mutters.
“Lee can take you to the dance, Jenna,” Lexi boasts, flopping back on the cushions.
“Did you give her sugar or something?” I ask Tommy, pretending like she didn’t just suggest I take her sister to some school dance.
“Would you?” Jenna whispers.
Fuck.
“I don’t dance, kid,” I mutter, braving a glimpse in her direction. The hope fades from her eyes as she looks away defeated.
“I can teach you,” Lexi offers. “I went to dancing school for a year. I’m practically a certified ballerina.”
Continuing to stare at Jenna, I place a finger under her chin and force her gaze back to me. I have no idea if I’m doing the right thing and it sure as fuck isn’t my place to take another man’s kid to a school dance, but I’m a sucker for tears. Or at least I am now.
“What do I have to do?”
Her eyes light up giving me another ray of sunshine.
“Show up,” she answers simply.
“She lies,” Lexi interjects. “You need to dress up and buy her a flower.”
“I have to dress up?” I ask Jenna.
“Yes,” Lexi answers.
“I don’t have dress clothes. Will jeans do?”
“You don’t have a funeral suit?” Tommy asks.
Where the fuck do these kids come up with this shit? No, I don’t have a funeral suit. In my world when someone dies we don’t fancy ourselves up. We wear our colors and pay our respects.
“I’ve got a leather vest,” I grind out. “That good enough?”
“Yes,” Jenna says, wiping her eyes.
“When is the dance?”
“Friday.”
“I’ll be there,” I promise, slapping my hands against my thighs. Before I can stand up, Jenna throws her arms around my neck, keeping me rooted to the table.
“Thank you,” she cries.
“Her favorite color is pink and I think roses are the prettiest flower,” Lexi calls from the couch. Hesitantly, I return the embrace and glance over Jenna’s shoulder at Lexi.
“Go wash your feet and get to bed,” I tell her again, praying to whoever is in charge of this circus that she listens this time.
“Fine,” she pouts, sliding off the couch. Stomping her muddy feet all the way to the stairs. Pulling out of my arms, Jenna looks up at me and smiles widely. It’s just as pretty as her mother’s and just as genuine too.
“Thanks, Lee.”
Lost for words and feeling completely out of sorts, I just nod and watch her run up the stairs after Lexi.
“That was a close one,” Tommy sighs, throwing himself on the couch.
This kid.
I like him.
I like him a fuck of a lot.
“You got this?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah, I mean, what’s not to have?” he replies coolly as he shrugs his shoulders.
Shaking my head, I start for the door.
“Where are you going?” he calls over his shoulder.
Without bothering to turn around, I pull open the door and give the kid a piece of truth.
“To tell your mother she’s got me by the balls.”
It’s the biggest truth of all.
Chapter Twenty-nine
I’ve been called a lot of things in my life; an outlaw, a dead end, even a fucking gangbanger. I can’t say any of those people were wrong. Set in my ways, I made choices in my life that lived up to all those labels. At times, I was proud of the train wreck I became and I believed all those people who talked shit about me did it out of envy. They wanted to be me, to walk the streets and turn heads. They wanted to be respected and feared just like me.
It took three pairs of innocent eyes to make me see I had it all wrong.
I was never the envy of anyone and I never will be if I keep living like I do.
&
nbsp; Someone else’s children saved me from myself and made me understand that being good to others isn’t such a hardship. It doesn’t make you weak or less of a man. It makes you better. It gives you purpose.
The lines that etch our faces don’t always have to be painful reminders of a hard life. Those lines can stand for the times you never want to forget, the ones you know you’ll carry with you wherever you go.
Times like tonight.
Having a little girl show up on my doorstep asking me to stick around isn’t something I’ll ever fail to remember. Nor will I forget her sister’s tears or the hopeful way she looked at me. Tommy’s dry humor is another thing that will stay with me.
When I think of all those labels I’ve been given, I’ll force myself to remember not everyone sees me the same. There are three people who see deeper into my soul. God forgive me, I know it’s wrong of me but I don’t want to let go.
I tried.
I failed.
And now I’m standing in front of a bar trying to figure out how I’m going to apologize to their mother. Not just for being a coward or even for the lies I told her, but for every past mistake that led me here.
For the truth she doesn’t know.
Deciding to man the fuck up, I drop the kickstand and dismount. Knowing the bar closes in a half hour, I don’t expect to find her busy. When I walk in my eyes scan the room in search for hers. It doesn’t take long to spot her, she’s the prettiest woman in the fucking place and I’m not the only one who notices.
Fucking Brantley notices too.
From the door, I watch him lean over the bar as she refills his glass. He grabs her wrist and I see fucking red. The reasons I came here are forgotten as I stalk through the bar, keeping my eyes glued on Layla. Whatever he says to her in that moment changes her whole face and the fake as fuck smile fades from her lips.
Not giving a fuck, I step behind him and meet Layla’s shocked expression as I grab Brantley by the back of his neck. His arms flail at his sides as I pull him off the stool.
“Lee,” Layla grinds out.
From the Ruins Page 23
