“No, I want you to have faith he will live. I do,” she says as she slowly steps to me. “All I was saying is we cannot forget God’s plan, and maybe this is what he had planned for Reggie all along.”
“Shut the fuck up with your Bible shit! I don’t give a flying fuck about God’s plan. All I care about is my husband living and us getting the hell away from this place. And, if my selfishness curses me, then so be it. I’ll gladly take up residence in the pits of Hell, just as long as Reggie makes it through this.” I take a step back, knowing I’m about to lose it. I can’t do that on a woman who is five months pregnant.
“I’m sorry, Darcie. I should have never said anything.” Cami turns, wiping the tears from her skin, and sits back down.
“You’re damn right,” I snap back as I resume my pacing.
“Darcie, stop,” Delilah scolds, grabbing me by the shoulders and preventing me from taking another step. “Reggie will make it. He’s strong. He’s a fighter and would never do this to you.”
The sound of her voice and the truth of Cami’s words finally breaks my hardened shell as I collapse on the floor in a mess of tears. The ripping sensation in my chest is more than I can bear as the hot, liquid drops streak from my eyes. I know Reggie is a fighter and will not leave this world without putting up a good fight, but how many bouts can he win? Reggie’s been fighting his entire life, and there has to be a time when his strength simply cannot beat the odds. Every fighter faces that one opponent who will end the streak. Is Grady that one opponent?
Although I can feel my family consoling me, their hands give me little comfort as they run down my back and join me in the crying.
I look up to Cami and plead with her to understand where I am coming from. “He has to make it, Cami. Can’t you see? If he doesn’t make it, I won’t. It’s Reggie who’s been my lifeline since I was thirteen years old. If he dies, I will, too.” I fight back more sobs, begging her to comprehend where my words are coming from. “Please, understand, when you tell me I need to be sensible about all this, you are also telling me I need to be sensible about facing my own mortality.”
The boys return to see us crying on the floor. Jake looks to Delilah, and she reassures him with a look that Reggie is still alive. However, how long that will be is yet to be determined.
The minutes turn to hours as the clock ticks inevitably forward. With each move of the second hand, I can slowly feel life being sucked from my body as I sit here and wait for the news on Reggie.
The sky finally relents to the cold, moist air as large, heavy snowflakes fall from the clouds. The air has been bitter for a while. However, today the snow finally starts to cover every available surface.
As the visibility lessens, I continue to drive to the one place that’s been a place of comfort the last four weeks. It’s a place I haven’t wanted to visit since Presley came here. Every time I drive past the religious statues and see the illuminated cross, I experience all those horrifying feelings all over again—the feelings of relentless pain and loss as it’s become a tomb of despair.
The last four weeks have been nearly impossible to overcome. The nights are spent in an endless mind-fuck as I relive the shooting over and over again. The sound of the gun shot, my shrill scream, and watching as my love barely hangs on to life. I can’t block any of it out. Even what I did to Grady, as gratifying as it is to know he’s dead. I still relive the moment when I pulled the gun from my side and squeezed the trigger until it clicked. In those few seconds, I stood over Grady and watched as he gargled on his blood before he got sucked into the pits of his own hell with his last breath.
Actually, there is something satisfying about watching him die. Like Robert, he was a villain from my past who came back to haunt any piece of happiness I had created. I can’t say I was surprised to see him again. Since the night he tried to rape me, I always knew he’d be back. I never told Reggie about my gut feeling of Grady’s return into my life, though, because I knew how he would react. I simply couldn’t risk him going to jail or worse. Irony at its finest, I guess.
I kept all those worries to myself, hoping to prevent Reggie from getting hurt, yet it happened anyway. Life managed to shatter my peaceful existence, and I’m left only with what to do now.
The Camaro slides on the slick, snow covered drive as I pull into a parking space and stare out the window. I hate the cold, and getting my legs to work lately has been a trying, impossible task. However, for my love, I’ve managed anyway. I’ve managed to break myself out of my agony to go on living for him.
In the past, blackness always seeped through, disconnecting me from my reality. The night Reggie was shot, I found myself checking out, but then I would see Caribbean blue eyes, and it was the only thought I needed to keep me out of the darkness.
I’ve managed to fight my way out of the hurt so I can do what’s best for my family. Reggie was once the protector; now it will be me who has to fill those shoes. I vowed the night Reggie came here I’d do what I could to protect our family, and I’ll be damned if we will live through something like this again. He is the reason I’m alive, and I won’t live that existence in vain.
It’s been an uphill battle for my life, a fight I’ve been struggling to win for the last thirty days. Finally, today I feel like I’m on the winning side of that fight. I’ve been lying in a hospital bed, going absolutely stir crazy since Grady shot me.
The first week I guess was pretty touch and go, although I don’t remember much of it. I spent two weeks in the intensive care unit after my surgeries, and with all the luck in the world, I’ve been able to beat the odds and live to fight another day.
The doctors say I was very lucky the bullet went completely through my body. However, as the steel sped through my torso, it ruptured my spleen along the way. Initially, the doctors attempted to repair my organ, but internal bleeding ensued then infection; therefore, they had to perform the second surgery to remove my spleen in order to save my life. Apparently, I can live without a spleen, though I will be more susceptible to disease, and I will need to be aware of what others have around me. I’m alive, and if that is all I need to do to keep my forty year self walking on this earth, then so be it.
Two weeks ago, I was moved from ICU to the regular ward of the hospital. Yesterday, the doctor gave me the best news since I’ve been here—I will be released today. I have a couple of follow up appointments, but hopefully, I won’t see the inside of this place for a long, long time.
When I laid eyes on my angel for the first time, her broken, sad gaze practically destroyed me. She said nothing as she stood at the end of my bed and stared at me. Her thumb was working overtime as it dug into the scar on the inside of her left wrist. Her feet remained frozen as she stood still and took me in.
I slowly raised my hand then motioned for her to come closer. I needed to touch her. A simple touch was and is the only medicine I need. But Darcie wouldn’t move. She only stood there, digging and pressing harder into the scar.
Then I finally spoke to her. “Angel … come … come here.”
With those words, the dam broke, and the tears poured down her face. Her green eyes liquefied as the salty tears ran down her cheeks. Yet she remained stock still.
I lifted my hand again, too weak to even bring it up very far, but I needed to feel her skin against mine.
Then she collapsed down in the chair propped next to my bed and wept. Her head fell forward, dropping onto my hand. The sensation of feeling my angel gave me the bout of energy I needed. She revitalized me just as she has done since the moment I met her.
I simply stroked her cheek as best as I could and whispered how much I loved her. It took several minutes before she was calm enough to raise her head, and when she did, it appeared that she, too, became revitalized.
“I love you,” she whispered then kissed the top of my hand.
Shortly after, I fell back asleep, but my visions of her saddened eyes will never escape my thoughts. I can only imagine how traumatizing
this was for her. I had never shown weakness like this before. She must have found something to believe in, though, because she’s here, and she’s as strong as ever.
The agony in my side snaps me from my daydream. My body feels as though I’ve competed in the worst MMA bout of my career, yet multiply that pain by ten.
My fortieth birthday is one I will never forget, that’s for sure. Just when I thought life couldn’t get any better, the shit show that always seems to follow the Evans family reared its ugly head, bringing Grady McGuire back into our lives.
Once I was lucid enough to have a complete thought, my energy was spent on thinking of how I can repay Grady for what he’s done. What happened to me aside, what he did to my wife is enough to want him dead. Ever since he tried to rape her, I wanted that bastard dead. It wasn’t until yesterday that I finally got my rage under control enough to ask what happened to him. Then, when Darcie told me she shot him, I immediately felt like a piece of shit.
She should never have had to do that. He should have been out of our lives a long time ago. Knowing Darcie had to hold a gun and kill a man angers me. It should have been me handling the situation, not her. However, when I really looked at her, I saw no resemblance of torment in her eyes. In fact, I think she is okay.
Why the hell wouldn’t she be fine? Sometimes I forget how strong my angel can be. I forget all of the adversities she’s had to overcome. Being strong is the only way she knows how to live. I get wrapped up in my protector mode occasionally when I need to step back and let her merely be as amazing as she is. She has been through hell on more than one occasion, and she has handled it. Darcie knew what had to be done and did it. She saved my life, and I will be forever in her debt.
The tubes have been removed from my body, so I am finally able to move around like a free man. The sun is shining brightly through the window, enticing me to get to my feet. I swing my legs off the bed and slowly sit up. I’m going to go insane if I don’t at least get up and move when I want.
When my bare feet connect with the floor, I can feel the cold tile cut into my skin. The feeling makes me shiver, causing the pain in my side to ignite. I clench my teeth together, sucking in as the pain stabs me for a moment. Holding my side with my left hand, I grab the footboard with my right hand and pull myself up on my feet. My legs are very weak, yet it feels good just to be standing.
I give myself a moment to get my bearings then slowly inch my way toward the window. I don’t pick up my feet; only shuffle them slowly as I walk to the window.
My eyes squint when the sun glares off the tin rooftop below. I count the windows running vertically up the building. It appears I’m on the fourth floor, with a vacant courtyard below.
The sound of a jet makes me look up at the bright blue sky with a newfound appreciation for life. I was shot and barely clinging on to life when everything came back to me. My wife’s beautiful face and the moment we shared minutes before Grady tried to take my life. Now, I am left with a mended hole in my side and the air in my lungs.
The sound of the door opening gets my attention. I slowly turn around to find Darcie standing on the other side of the room. She’s gleaming when I look over to her, the smile the best sight in the world.
“Now that’s a sight,” she says. It’s then I realize I don’t have anything on underneath my hospital gown. I’ve been waiting for her to show up with my clean clothes. It completely escaped me to have her leave behind a pair of boxers. My bare ass was just pointed toward the door. Luckily, it was my wife who walked through. Thank God it wasn’t Jake. He’d never let me live that down.
As quickly as my body will allow, I turn around and gaze at her angelic face and smile.
Darcie comes deeper in the room, sets my overnight bag on the floor, and gently gives me a hug. “You didn’t need to turn around. I was enjoying the view.”
“Humph.” I make sure she sees my eyes roll.
“Don’t humph me, buddy.” Darcie reaches around and gives my ass a gentle squeeze. “Your ass is a work of art and should be admired by your wife.” This damn woman. She is so damn sexy and such a fucking cock tease. She’s doing it on purpose because she knows we cannot do anything for a while.
Just as I’m about to kiss her, she slaps my ass cheek and pulls herself out of my arms.
“Hey, where are you going?” I give her the biggest pouty face I can, but to no avail. My wife won’t fall for it, though she does have a hard time denying me when I demand it of her. The woman acts like she hates being bossed around; however, when it comes to our physical relationship, she loves it when I’m a dick. “Get over here and kiss me, woman.” I lower my voice and give her the sternest look I can.
Darcie strolls toward me like it’s the most painful thing I’ve asked her to do, but when my lips touch hers, she completely melts in my arms. She releases a small moan, and we soon get lost in the moment. I haven’t kissed my wife this passionately since I was shot. Before that, we never went a day without having this type of connection. Even when we were fighting after Jeremy’s arrest, she and I somehow managed to kiss each other at least once.
Behind my thin, cotton hospital gown, my dick stirs awake. Inwardly, I rejoice to the Lord Almighty for making this still possible. I asked the doctor if I would have a problem getting it up or even having sex, considering what I’ve been through. I was told it should be fine once I heal. However, the feel of my rock hard cock pressed against my wife’s body reassures me I am back to my old self, minus my spleen, of course.
“Ahem …” I open my eyes to look to the displeased nurse standing just inside the door.
Darcie freezes mid-kiss and slowly turns around. Before she can think of stepping away, I pull her close to my body to hide my obvious predicament.
“Mr. Evans,” she scolds, “I don’t think you’re quite ready for that kind of activity.”
I only shrug, knowing it will be impossible to wait. However, my doctor basically told me, when I am physically back to my old self, then it will be okay for me to slam my wife in the sack. Until then, I just may have her do all the work. Surgery does have its possibilities.
***
Three hours later, I arrive to the second surprise party of my life. When we pull into the driveway, Jake is standing at the end of the back steps. He moves to my door and helps me up and out of the car.
“I can walk on my own,” I groan to Jake.
“Shut the fuck up and get your old ass up the stairs. It’s cold as shit out here, man.” Jake pulls my arm over his shoulder, and the two of us ascend the stairs in unison. Darcie follows, carrying my bags, medication, and discharge paperwork.
When we walk through the back door, I am immediately greeted by a happy yet cranky Mia. She is accompanied by her posse: quiet and concentrated Hunter, and Jake and Delilah’s spawn, consisting of Kade and Hale—the four and a half year old twins—followed by their three year old brother Jett, and finally, the biggest terror of them all, their eighteen month old baby sister Quinn. Of all Jake’s kids, Quinn is the naughtiest little shit around. I thought Mia was bad with her attitude and her ability to make you feel stupid. Or any of the boys and their need to jump, tackle, and destroy. But, Quinn … Yeah, she’s a child who is very mischievous and sly. She knows how to work her uncles to get exactly what she wants. She is nothing like her mother. And she’s only eighteen months! Although, look who her daddy is. I mean, really, it would have been totally unfair if Jake got all the easygoing kids after he was such an ass when he was younger. When she becomes a teenager, Jake will be beside himself. It wouldn’t surprise me if Quinn is never allowed to leave the house again.
“Get back, kids!” Jake shouts to his children. “Let the old man through.”
“Enough with the old man shit. If I didn’t get shot a month ago, I’d be kicking your ass as we speak,” I snap back. Seriously, the old man jokes are getting on my nerves a little.
“Uncle Reggie?” Mia scolds with her hands on her hips. My little nine-year-old diva,
bless her and her parents for dealing with this one’s dramatics.
“Yes, Mia,” I say as I make my way into the living room and slowly down into my La-z-boy recliner.
“Don’t do that again! Got it!” Mia shouts, a small tear pooling in her honey-brown eyes.
I didn’t allow my brothers to bring their kids to the hospital when I got out of intensive care for this very reason. I didn’t want to face Mia, knowing how traumatic seeing me laid up would be for her. Of all the kids, Mia is the most aware of what a gunshot can do to someone. She knows the truth about her mother.
“Don’t almost die again.”
When I motion for her to come closer, she carefully climbs in my lap. She’s my little darling. Of all my nieces and nephews, Mia and I have a different kind of bond. I helped take care of her when Drake moved back in after Presley went to rehab and, of course, after her death. She became my little buddy, and the last thing I wanted to do was break her innocent heart. She has suffered so much loss already, and she’s only nine.
I lean forward and kiss her on the cheek. “I promise, Mia. I won’t almost die again.” Really, what can I say? I don’t plan on dying soon, and when I do, she will be old enough to really understand. I give her a reassuring grin.
Not much happens as the day moves on. I sit around with my family, listening to their stories, and simply smile. I look to everyone and feel like the luckiest man around. I am alive, and the greatest people one could ask for surround me. From my wife to my brothers and their families, a man couldn’t ask for a better way to come home and celebrate how precious life truly is.
Today is going to be the day. I am going to finally tell Reggie what has to be done, and I cannot take no for an answer.
Everlasting Love Page 4
