This Is Me, Baby (War & Peace #5)

by K. Webster

  Poor kid.

  My bedroom is dark, aside from the glow from the closet. Toto sometimes gets scared, so we leave it on for her. She’s passed out in her pack-n-play. Her blonde curls glow in the light from the closet. God, I love that little girl. Next, I peek in on Mason. He’s in a basinet beside Baylee. She swaddled him up, and he looks serene sucking on his pacifier. The boy looks just like Ren did at that age. My heart swells at how beautiful our children are.

  “Come to bed,” Bay murmurs in her thick, sleepy voice.

  I peel off my T-shirt and shove down my lounge pants. As I crawl into our bed, I’m assaulted with her scent. It’s a permanent happy place in my mind. So feminine and clean and just Baylee.

  “What was all the yelling about?” she asks in a whisper.

  I haul her to me and press a kiss to her forehead. “Hannah and Ren.” Our eyes meet, both of us wearing matching frowns. “He wants access to his trust fund. He’s moving out, baby.”

  A storm brews in her eyes, and she chews on her bottom lip for a moment while she contemplates my words. After a moment, she darts her eyes to mine. “I don’t want him to go, but maybe he’ll be happier.”

  I nod and slide my palm to her hip before slipping it under her shirt to stroke the delicate flesh on her back. “He needs his space. It’s better to let him have his money than for him to quit college or something.”

  Her fingers skim over my chest and she sniffles. “Everything is a mess right now, War.”

  I lean forward and capture her lips. So soft. So fucking supple. “This mess is ours. We’re the only ones who can clean it up. This mess is our responsibility.” I kiss her deep enough to draw out a needy moan from her. “But we will get it cleaned up. Then we can be happy again.”

  Pushing her onto her back, I lick away her tears as I strip her out of her clothes. We’ve only been able to go back to having sex in the last couple of weeks. Thankfully, though, we don’t have to worry about birth control because she got her tubes tied after Mason.

  “War…” My name on her lips is a prayer. She needs me to fix it all for her. Of course I will. I’ll always owe her for fixing me.

  “Shhh,” I murmur against her mouth as I part her legs and settle myself between them. I tug my hardened cock from my boxers and tease her wet opening. Then, with a low growl, I push into my perfect wife.

  Once I’m seated deep inside her heat, I lift up to look at her. “I love you, Bay.”

  Her fingernails dig into me and her heels press into my ass as she urges me to fuck her. I suck on her sweet tongue as I deliver the thrusts she wants. Exactly the way she likes them. Exactly the right pace.

  With every pound into her tight body, I feel my own climax taunting me. It’s so close, but I don’t want to lose control unless she’s unraveling with me. Now that we have two small kiddos to deal with, our sexual times have been limited. I want her to orgasm and give me all of her, even if only briefly.

  “Come all over my cock, baby,” I urge. My fingers slip between us and I massage her swollen clit. Having been married for nearly two decades, I know exactly where to touch her. I know how many seconds it will take her to explode with pleasure the moment I find her sweet spot.

  “Oh,” she moans in the softest of whispers.

  Her body clenches around mine. It drives me mad with need. My nuts tighten for a brief moment before I’m draining my desire into her.

  “God,” I say with a grunt and nip at her bottom lip. “You make the hottest sounds when I fuck the pleasure out of you.”

  She lets out a quiet laugh and grins up at me. Her blue eyes sparkle. “War?”

  “Yeah, Bay?”

  “I am happy.” She palms my cheek. “Everything is a mess, no doubt about it. But I’m happy. As long as you’re here taking care of me and the kids, my life is complete. You’re a good man.”

  I flash her a lopsided grin. My cock, which had been softening, hardens up rather quickly. “I’m about to make you happy again. Then, we’re going to shower.” I buck into her hard enough to make her yelp. The time for sweetness is over. It’s now time to bring out her claws. I fucking love it when she digs them into me. “And after we shower, you’ll make me happy too when you let me suck on that sensitive clit of yours. It’s been far too long, baby.”

  My hips buck powerfully into her. The pain of her fingernails has me groaning with pleasure.

  “Don’t stop,” she begs against the shell of my ear.

  I’ll never stop.

  I’M BROKEN.

  Used up.

  Empty.

  Fucking lost.

  The pillow beneath me is soaked from my tears. Days and days. They all bleed together. I’m lost inside this vortex of pain. Unsure where it all starts and where it ends. One thing’s for sure, though.

  Duvan’s not here with me.

  Heath ripped him away from me. He came into my life, one last time, and took what never belonged to him. The ache in my chest intensifies. A pain unlike one I’ve ever known claws from within me. It’s like a caged beast desperate to escape. But God has punished me—again—for some reason. Because, this time, I’m to manage this beast all on my own. This beast of despair devoured the old one within me. Before that, I only thought it was bad after my mother was taken from me. Now, I realize it wasn’t a beast at all. Just some sad little animal.

  But the feral animal in me now is not small at all. It’s devastated and crushed and growing by the second. The animal is also very angry. She has a thirst for blood. The one she wanted to devour is already gone. That only leaves the thirst for one man.

  Esteban.

  The cravings that used to surge through me were because of what he could give me. The heroin. Heated bliss that stole all the pain away. I know that if I wanted it again, I could figure it out myself this time. I could drive into the city, purchase the product, and get high.

  If I wanted to.

  If I didn’t have Duvan’s baby growing inside of me.

  But I don’t want to.

  The craving when I think about Esteban now isn’t about the drugs. It’s about making him bleed. It’s about punishing him because he deserves it after all he’s done. It’s about vengeance. I want him to be the recipient of the pain I can’t dole out to Heath because he’s dead.

  Esteban will be the one to pay for the sins of Heath.

  I want his blood to coat my fingers as I cut his heart from his chest.

  Swiping a tear from my cheek, I sit up and look over at Duvan’s empty spot. The first night we’d arrived back home, Daddy tried to comfort me. As soon as the bed dipped with his weight, I screamed at him to leave. I was so afraid he’d steal away the lingering scent Duvan left. That he’d take away the memories of my husband.

  Plus, I didn’t want Daddy’s comfort.

  My heart still bleeds from when he left me. When he took off with my mother’s murderer. As grateful as I was that he saved me from Heath, I still can’t help but be angry with him.

  The tears constantly roll down my cheeks. But it isn’t sadness that is threatening to eat me alive. It’s fury and hate and anger. I’ve welcomed them wholeheartedly. Those fiery emotions don’t hurt. They crave to do the hurting.

  I want to make someone pay for all the wrongs that were done to me.

  My eyes settle on a frame on Duvan’s bedside table. It’s a selfie of the two of us. One of those times when we were curled up watching movies together. Back when we were happy—just like he always wished for me to be.

  I’ll never be happy again.

  Not ever.

  Bile rises in my throat, and it once again reminds me that I’ll be forced to be happy at some point. I scramble out of the bed and make it to the toilet in time to vomit. This little gift from Duvan has made me so sick.

  I close my eyes and wallow in the misery of losing him. Had Daddy arrived ten minutes sooner, he could have saved Duvan too. Life is just unfuckingfair.

  My hands shake as I clutch the toilet seat. I glance down
at my wedding ring. Yesterday, I found the strength to go through the bag my dad had packed for me. Inside, I’d found my laptop, some pictures of Duvan and I, my clothes, a T-shirt of Duvan’s, and his wedding ring.

  Now that, I will be thankful for.

  My father may have abandoned me but he always understood love. And in a tense, hasty moment, he had the foresight to grab something that was important to me. Now, Duvan’s giant ring hangs on the chain around my neck, which Ren gave me. Safe, just above my heart, where he’ll always be.

  Just the thought of Duvan’s body decomposing in the same room as Heath’s corpse has me throwing up again. Tears roll out and my throat stings. If I were to call out, Luciana or Daddy would be here in an instant to take care of me.

  But I don’t want them.

  I want to deal with this alone.

  It’s mine.

  The hurt. The pain. The loss. It’s all I have left of him.

  Finally, I manage to feel okay and stand on shaky legs. The shower is hot and does something to soothe my soul into a numb state. If I think too hard about it all, I feel overwhelmed. The crushing weight of reality is too much. I crave to cut my wrists open and find my husband out there in the afterlife.

  But each time those dark thoughts enter my mind, I think about our baby. It’s enough to snuff out those dark ideations.

  I tie a towel around my still wet body and shakily make my way into my bedroom. I’ve been going through every nook of the house finding items that remind me of Duvan. Collecting them. Sorting through his paperwork. Looking through old pictures. Anything to feel closer to him.

  I wish I had someone I could talk to. Sure, Luciana has tried via text. Daddy has held me through a couple of soul-crushing cries. But it’s not enough. Climbing onto the bed, I grab my laptop and open it up. The Skype app tells me that one of my friends is on. When I open it, I’m oddly satisfied to notice that it’s Ren who’s on.

  Is he waiting for me to log on?

  Does he want to talk to me?

  I know from overhearing my dad that his family knows what happened. Ren was a witness to the horror. It makes me wonder if he was secretly happy to watch my husband die. The thought makes me sick and rage has me dialing him.

  The program makes a chiming sound as it rings and then Ren’s face is on my screen. I didn’t think through my actions. I’m now sitting here, gaping at his haggard face like I’m a deer caught in a pair of headlights. His once navy blue eyes are hardened into a darker color. Almost black. The hair on his face has grown into a stubble. Dark circles ring his eyes from what looks like stress or lack of sleep. If I thought he’d be happy for my loss, I was mistaken.

  Ren’s my friend.

  At one time he was my lover.

  He doesn’t want my pain.

  “Brie,” he murmurs. “Jesus Christ.”

  Emotion chokes my throat but I swallow it down and blink away the tears forming in my eyes. He doesn’t ask me how I am. He doesn’t blurt out how horrific it was watching two men die just a few days ago. He does nothing but stare at me with his jaw clenching and unclenching.

  I don’t reply to him. My heart aches too fucking badly to find words. Instead, I let out a ragged breath and stare back. Eventually, I grab Duvan’s ring hanging from my necklace and grip it in my fist. Hot tears streak down my face, but again, no words come out.

  We remain silent for quite sometime. Me crying quietly and him sending me a thousand words with just one simple expression.

  The two of us are different.

  Two new people.

  Two people scarred and ruined by our pasts.

  I don’t even know who he is anymore.

  And I certainly don’t know myself.

  After what feels like hours, but based on the clock on my screen, has only been a minute or two, I let out a ragged sigh.

  “Have you heard from Ozzy?” My question is a tiny whisper—one I barely push out of my throat.

  His eyes close and he nods. When they reopen, his gaze pins me. “He left that day. Said he had to go see his dad.” His gaze lowers until it’s no longer locked with mine. “He said they had to dispose of the bodies.”

  Guilt surges through me. I left my dead husband’s body in that beach rental and hopped in a ride with my dad. We drove thirty-one hours to my home in Colombia without a backward glance.

  Had I been a better wife and not so shaken to my core, I’d have begged my father to call the police. For us to give Duvan a proper burial. But I didn’t. I wallowed in my despair. Until I snapped out of it today. Until anger took over. Until clarity began to set in.

  Unfortunately, it’s too late.

  “If you speak to him, will you tell him to call me?” I ask. Just the thought of seeing Oscar broken over the loss of his brother has me nearly in tears again.

  “I will,” he vows, his voice raw. “Promise me you’ll call me if things get too rough. I’ll be out there in a second. Just say the words, Brie.”

  I force a smile but I don’t think it even reaches my lips. It feels as though my lips simply twitch instead. “I’m fine.”

  “Brie…” His brows furl together. “Be careful.”

  The tone of his warning has a chill shivering through me. “Take care of yourself, Ren.”

  As soon as I end our call, despair crashes back down around me. I clutch Duvan’s T-shirt to my heart and curl up on the bed. My stomach growls after having emptied it, but I don’t move to get up.

  I never want to get up.

  One week is all it took to dry up. I went from crying at every turn to walking around like a zombie. Luciana is barely able to get me to eat when she tries. Which is often. My dad tries to get me to speak. But I have nothing to say. I’m a shell. Simply going through the motions.

  That is…

  Until Ren calls me.

  Our Skype conversations aren’t really conversations at all.

  They’re more like staring contests. I listen to him bounce a tennis ball off the wall while Nine Inch Nails blares in the background. He watches me as I thumb through photo albums of when Duvan was a kid. Ren occasionally barks out at Calder. I, at times, yell at my dad to leave me alone. We’re both sort of existing on the same plane but never intersecting.

  I don’t understand what’s going on inside his head. But I sense the fury just below the surface. I like that he’s angry for me. The heat from his wrath warms me like rays from the sun on a warm California summer day. I’m curious about the anger rolling from him. Ren was always so gentle and sweet. I’ve never really seen him get mad about anything.

  I crave to scratch my fingernails along his flesh until the irritation seeps out. To see exactly why it exists. To prod until it becomes infected and spreads. I want to see more of it.

  His anger feeds mine.

  My inner animal craves to devour it.

  “Where do you want them to put the couches?” I hear Calder question him.

  My brows furrow together and I sit up to listen better.

  “Don’t know. Don’t care. You’re a big boy,” Ren grunts. “Figure it out.”

  When Calder leaves, Ren goes back to bouncing his ball off the wall.

  “Couches?”

  His head snaps over to the screen and he frowns. “Moved out.”

  “Of the dorms?”

  “And house,” he grumbles.

  He’s angry and this time it doesn’t seem to be about me. I’m dying to know what’s upsetting him. I feel like he’s holding back from me.

  “Why?” I murmur.

  He yanks off his baseball cap and tosses it away. His dark brown hair is messy. Longer than I remember. A lock of it falls into his eye for a brief moment before he rakes his fingers through his hair, pushing it back. Dark eyebrows furl together and his blue eyes darken. “Hannah. I can’t stay there while…” he trails off. His eyes flicker with rage and it ignites something within me.

  He can’t stay there because of what she did to my family.

  I’m not su
re why that makes me happy, but it does.

  I feel as though I won some battle I didn’t know I was fighting.

  “How can you afford it?”

  He shrugs. “Dad let me into my trust fund. Calder’s rooming with me because he doesn’t like our fuckwit sister either. Plus, I don’t think he’s keen on being the backup babysitter at every turn.”

  I fight a smile imagining big ‘ol Calder with a baby in his lap watching Terminator and eating greasy pizza. He’d be a terrible babysitter. Calder would probably give the baby Mountain Dew in its bottle or something.

  My hand automatically splays out over my own belly. Would Duvan have been like that? Would he have been a laid back father or would he have been overprotective?

  I guess I’ll never know.

  “You going to stay there forever?” he questions. “I mean, it’s your house now, right?”

  I swallow before dragging my gaze over to a pile on the bed. I’ve gone through all of his paperwork. When I’d been here before, Duvan would bring things for me to sign. I didn’t pay much attention because I didn’t care. Only cared about being with him—not his assets. But now…

  I realize I have a lot to deal with.

  For one, I have to figure out what to do with this house. I’m not sure I’ll stay here but if I don’t, I’ll need to sell it. And his building where he manufactured his coke, I’ll need to figure out what to do with that. If I could get a hold of Ozzy, he could help me. But according to Ren, he’s gone AWOL.

  So has Vee.

  I haven’t tried to call her, but Ren said he’s called many times and even went by her apartment a few times. She’s just gone. I know my best friend. Despite Heath being a lunatic, she loved her father. Watching him die had to have been hard on her. She’s probably holed up at her parents’ house in mourning.

  I miss her.

  “Brie…”

  I blink away my thoughts and look at Ren. His face is scruffy from not having shaved for several days. That, coupled with the fierce gleam in his eyes, makes him look rougher. So different than the boy I remember.

  “I guess one day I’ll come back. There’s just so much to deal with here first. Have you been able to get ahold of Oscar?”