“Not as sorry as you’re going to be, you sick fuck.” I point to the girl without taking my eye off him, blood pumping through my veins, heart racing as I look at this piece of shit. I’m ready to kill him. “You like beating defenseless girls, forcing yourself on them? That’s how you get your kicks, huh? I’m no defenseless girl. Come at me, mother fucker.”
I stand, seething in hatred, staring at the guy who who could destroy the beautiful soul of the most amazing girl I have ever known, leaving her gutted through and broken. A ghost of the person I love.
The fucker actually laughs, blood trickling down his nose. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. I’ve never had to force a girl to do anything they didn’t want me to, as you can see. Right, Lexi?”
“He’s not forcing me to do anything, I swear!” the girl on the bed blurts out in a frantic shaken voice.
“Lucky you. Get the fuck out, Lexi.” She doesn’t move fast enough, and I yell, “Get out!” with a rage so potent my head throbs, probably scaring her half to death as she races out the door past Trigg, who hasn’t moved.
I’m ready to gut him when I hear a commotion behind me, voices raised, cursing. I get a look at Trigg pointing his gun at a pack of frat fucks who abruptly stop at the sight of the gleaming metal.
“Put the fucking gun down. There is no way you’re going to get out of here,” one says.
“If by chance you do get past the front door, it won’t be before you get your ass beat,” another says.
Trigg gives an easy smile, brandishing his gun side to side, taking aim. “I never did trust a rich motherfucker. Think...Which one of you wants your head blown off?” He closes one eye. “Go ahead, make my day. Twitch, and I will drop your asses.” He looks at them and nods. “Now that we understand each other, we won’t be long. My man came here to get something done. He’s not leaving until he’s finished.”
My full attention is back where it belongs. I know I need to make this fast. The fucker smiles wide, wiping his hand across his nose. “Like I said, I didn’t force anyone to do anything. It’s the sweet, quiet ones you have to watch out for. Sneaky little devils, they are. Maybe she didn’t want to tell you she found something she likes better and wanted it right where it counted, between her sweet, soft, quivering thighs, and she was too scared to tell you she got exactly what she asked for.”
“You sick fuck!” I charge. Crippling anger and rage beyond belief fuels me forward, crashing into a solid wall. Fists fly. Bones crunch. A metallic taste floods my mouth when his fist connects to my lips. Hardly fazed, I block his next jab to my face, landing a swift knee between his legs following up with a right to the jaw.
He staggers back, hunched over, but I don’t stop—I can’t. Another right, and he falls over. I reach down, picking him up by the shirt, and swing a left in blind rage, the impact splattering blood across the room and over my shirt. I land another. More blood runs down his face and over my hands, but I can’t stop, even when I let go, dropping him to the floor with a thud.
“Come on,” I taunt. “Don’t make this easy for me. Show me how you did it. You’re the man, you sick motherfucker!” I grab him by the throat, pinning him to the floor while he gasps for air. His hand comes up, hitting me on the side of the head, but it’s a glancing blow, and I feel nothing but rage. A blinding rage, blacker and darker than the abyss of nothing.
That’s enough!” Trigg shouts, but it’s distant. I’m not sure if it’s him until a hand rests over mine. “Landon, don’t do this man. Enough. Don’t let him do this to you. You’re going to kill him.”
“He deserves it.”
“I know he does. But think about Lacey. Seeing you behind bars will kill her. Don’t do this to her. Don’t take what’s left of her world away from her.” My hands are stiff, bloodied and bruised. Using one hand, he slowly pries my hand away from a half-breathing Robert Stanton III. I fall back on my ass, blank, drained, in a daze.
Trigg shakes me, trying to get me back, pulling on my arm. “Get the fuck up, Landon. We have to go, now.”
He comes back into focus, and I see blood. Blood everywhere. All over my hands, my clothes, the floor, the piece of shit writhing and gasping on the floor for air. “Let’s go,” I say, returning to my senses.
Trigg cocks his gun back, yelling at the assholes to move even as they scream threats. “You’re done for! We better not catch your ass around here; you’re dead!”
We cross by a couple of guys who start backing up once they see us. Tearing down the street, we jump into his car, speeding off back to where we left my car parked. I get out, slamming the door, and Trigg says, “Hey, where are you going, man?”
I hear the worry in his voice, but I don’t look at him. I can’t. “I have no idea,” I lie. We both know there is no place for me to go now. “You better get out of here and take care of that.” I point to the gun.
“Gimme yours; I’ll take care of that too.” He holds out his hand.
I hand it to him. “Thanks,” I say, looking at him now.
He smiles. “Think nothing of it. I know you’d do the same for me.” He locks the guns in the glove box and drives away.
I get in my car and make a call to Victoria Wells, Lacey’s attorney. I tell her everything—that Lacey’s pregnant, and the baby’s not mine. Now she has a case, and no-hassle DNA because I’m covered in it. Yeah, I know I didn’t need to do that for it. Just something I needed to do. Then I drive to my final destination. I walk through the doors, and before the man behind the desk says anything to me I say, “My name is Landon Jessup. I’m here to turn myself in. I don’t have anything else to say until my attorney gets here.”
now
You brought pie to a birthday party?” I smile at her, holding up a delicious-looking pie like an offering to me in both hands. “How original.”
“Well...” she smiles, biting the corner of her lip. “You know the saying…when in doubt, bring pie.”
I can’t help but laugh at her nervous smile and the pie in my face. “Who says that?”
“We do. Well, my mother, but it usually works.”
“Made it yourself, that’s why you’re here at the end of the party?” She’s standing there with the pie, not saying anything. I’m wondering if she’s going to come in or loiter outside till the party’s over. “Are you coming in or are you waiting for the pie to sprout wings?” I tease, taking the pie from her hands.
“I’m nervous.” She steps in, and I close the door. “I’ve never come to one of these things. Mom usually brings him, or Shay, when she’s forced. Mom didn’t want to ruin his fun so I left work early.”
“She asked if I could keep an eye on him for her. She said Shay was coming soon.”
“She left when you opened the door. She’s not a fan of kid parties. She hates clowns.”
“I’m not surprised she’s not the clown type.”
“We saw Stephen King’s It when we were kids, against my mom’s warnings. She hasn’t gotten over it yet.”
“I’m not surprised at that either.” I chuckle, placing my hand on her back, giving myself a reason to touch her. “Come on, party’s almost over. No reason to be nervous, I’m with you.”
She smiles. “Okay.” That smile does all sorts of things to me—mainly me wishing I could touch her more and place a kiss right on those pretty lips of hers.
It’s all going well. I’m standing behind her, talking to one of the dads, and she’s watching the boys tell their friends goodbye. Then one of the mothers comes up to her.
“Hi, I’m Denise.”
“Hi, Denise, I’m Lacey.”
“I’ve seen you a few times at school. Which one of these little rambunctious humans is yours?” She points to the kids running around.
Lacey looks over where Jacob and Jackson are playing and smiles, pointing him out. “The little one doing a fantastic imitation of a peg-leg pirate is all mine.”
“Oh, Jacob. He’s usually with his grandmother, isn’t he?
She’s very nice.”
“Yes, I usually have to work.”
“Mm. You seem familiar. Your name does, too. Where have I seen you, besides school?”
“I don’t know? Maybe you’ve seen me at Le Fleur? I work there.”
“No, no...” She looks at Lacey as if she’s figuring out a long lost mystery.
I watch Lacey fold her arms, getting more and more uncomfortable the longer she stares at her. I feel about as on edge as she looks. I wonder if I should go over and wrap this up, tell Denise we need to go. But I don’t want to overreact.
“College! You, yes...oh my.” Her voice comes down to a whisper. “Robert Stanton.”
My heart twists when she says that name, making my blood run cold. I know what’s coming, and I see Lacey’s body grow stiff as Denise stares at her, then at Jacob, solving a painful mystery we all wish would stay unknown.
“That’s him? Your son. There were rumors—I’m sorry,” Denise says with sympathy, and I see what I know is pity in her eyes when she turns back from looking at Jacob laughing and playing. “How brave you must be to deal with it all.” She glances back at Jacob once more, and in a hushed voice says, “It must be like reliving it every day.”
Lacey’s back gets straighter than an iron rod. A flash of anger goes over her face, her lips pressed together. Seeing and hearing enough, I walk over to take them away from this. I come to a stop beside her, putting my hand on her lower back to let her know I’m right here with her, reminding her she’s not alone.
As if she understands what I’m trying to say with one simple touch, I feel her move back into my hand as she answers Denise, her voice strong and even. “When I look at my son, all I see is an innocent little boy, oblivious to all the ugliness in the world. An ugliness that hasn’t touched him yet, that he knows nothing about. I hope it stays that way for as long as possible. He is my son, Denise, and I love him more than anything in this world.” Her voice wavers slightly on her last words. “Do you understand?”
She looks between us, her eyes dropping to the floor then looking back at Lacey’s alone. “I do. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. You don’t need to worry. I won’t repeat what I know.” With that, she walks off.
Lacey takes a deep breath, and her body sags against me. I lean into her, supporting her the best I can in the middle of a room full of kids hopped up on sugar, their minds far away from the ugliness of this world and the ugliness of how one of them was created.
I round the boys up and put them in the back of my truck. I can see how upset Lacey is and refuse to let her drive herself home. I offer to take her home and come back for her car, but she says she’ll get a drop from Shay to get it.
Halfway there, the boys fall asleep. We don’t talk. I let her sort through what she needs to. I stop in front of her house. My hand is on the door to help her with Jacob when she stops me, putting her hand over mine. “Wait.”
I sit back and wait for her to let me into her mind, to tell me what she needs from me, even if it’s something simple like just listening. For her, I’d do anything to wipe those memories away.
Her head is down, one hand in her lap playing with her dress, the other not letting go of my wrist. I wait.
“This is why I don’t go to these things. I’m afraid of that happening. The way she looked at him…She doesn’t know him. He’s special, loving.” She gives a little cough, shaking her head like she’s trying not to fall into a daze. “He’s so gentle and kind. He’s not...he isn’t like...” She turns to me, shaking her head, eyes shining brightly. I don’t want to see those brimming tears fall.
I say what she needs so she doesn’t have to. “I know. He’s not him.” I squeeze her hand. “I know.”
“Good. I wish everyone did. One day he’s going to go looking for answers about his father, and some kid or adult is going to tell him. It’s not like it’s a secret.”
Fuck this hand holding. I put my arm around her, pulling her closer to me, rubbing her arm.
“I don’t know how I’m going to tell him when the day comes. It’s rare now, but every so often those old feelings come back to haunt me. It doesn’t end, you know?”
No, I don’t know. That was part of the problem. I would never know. Only she alone would. I was too angry and in my own pain to do anything more. I want to understand and bear her pain with her, without disturbing her life as she’s come to terms with it. I ask softly against her hair. “What doesn’t end?”
“Being victimized by him. Sometimes I pretend it never happened. Then I look at a reminder, that’s turned into my beautiful redemption. You don’t know how I wish I could change things, but if I did, I wouldn’t have him. He saved me when I was all alone, and I thought no one could ever love me again.”
Her words are crushing, especially when I know I’m the cause of some of her pain. I want to tell her she was always loved. As long as there was a me in existence, she would and will be loved. Instead, I say, “Did you date?” It’s been floating around in my brain since Shay told me what she asked her when I left. ‘Who’s going to love me if he doesn’t?’
She looks up at me, her head on my chest, our eyes meeting. “What?”
“After us, did you?”
She looks behind me at the boys. “Why?”
I brush a lock of her hair to the side of her face, leaning in closer to her, my eyes going over every feature of her face, one I’ve committed to memory. My memories didn’t do her justice. They couldn’t. She was my happiness. “I wanted you to be happy. I wanted someone for you who would make you happy.”
“Oh, Landon. I dated other guys. Three. But it didn’t work out.”
I wanted to know. Doesn’t mean I want to hear my girl has been with other guys. “Why?”
“I wasn’t comparing what we had to them.” She shrugs a shoulder. “But when a thing is, it just is, simple as that. When it’s not, it’s not. Something’s missing, and you can’t make it more than what it is, if you can understand that. The crazy workings of my brain, again.”
“Perfectly.” I understand more than she knows. It’s been the story of my marriage with Bree.
Crossing the short distance between us, my forehead touches hers. I close my eyes, taking in this moment. The tip of her nose touches mine. The need to be as close to her as possible is overwhelming— the warmth of her breath against my lips, and her scent? Sweet, pure, her.
“Uh, noo.”
We jerk apart at Jackson’s voice. We look behind us to see what’s wrong. Mumbling something else in his sleep, he turns his head. Their timing is always spot on.
“I should go inside, let you take Jackson home.” She pulls back further.
“Let me help you bring Jacob to the door.”
“No, I got him. Stay with Jackson.”
“Are you sure? He’s not light.”
She pulls out her key swinging then around her index finger. “I’m a mom. I got this.” She smiles.
I hold my hand up, reflecting her smile. “All right, mom, you got this. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m okay.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Then believe me when I say it.” Without another word, she leans over and lightly presses her lips to mine, making my lips tingle, warmth spreading through me, lighting me up from the inside even when our lips part and she says, “Goodnight, Landon.”
In a stupor, I let her leave, watching her cradle her son in her arms, opening her door, closing it behind her. A face-splitting smile is on my face. Best fucking end to a night that I’ve had in a long time. “Goodnight, Lacey.”
Bud, how could we have forgotten the equipment?” I say to Jackson, opening our front door.
“You’re the assistant coach. We didn’t forget it. You forgot it.” He smiles up at me. My little wise-ass.
“Thanks for throwing me under the bus. But aren’t you supposed to be my helper? You wanted the job. Remember?”
“I’m just a kid. I want lots of thin
gs.” He puts his hand on his hips, looking up at me in his uniform. I love this kid. He says the darnedest things. He makes me laugh all the time.
“Now you’re just a kid?” I snatch his cap off, mussing his hair, which he hates.
I laugh harder when he groans, “Dad, you know I hate that.”
“I know. Come on, I’ll load the equipment. You go find your glove—maybe ask your mom if she’s seen it.”
“Okay.” He takes off running, as always. It’ll be a waste of breath to tell him to slow down.
I go in the other direction, downstairs, to the laundry room, to get the equipment I forgot to load in my truck yesterday. Where the hell was my mind at? Probably on Lacey, I smile.
“GET OFF MY MOM! DAD!”
“What the hell—” I drop the equipment, which goes crashing to the floor, and run full speed toward Jackson, who is screaming from the direction of the master bedroom. “Jackson! What’s wrong?” My heart pounding out of my chest, I fear he and Bree are in danger. A hundred different things are flashing through my mind.
Bree yells, “Jackson, no! Go outside. Stop it, baby, leave! I’m so sorry.”
What the hell? Turning the corner, I charge into the room, only to pull up short, almost tripping as I take in the jaw-dropping scene. My soon to be ex-wife’s clothes are disheveled, and she’s looking frantic and wild, holding back our son, while standing behind her is our maintenance man, who is buckling up his pants. What the fuck...
I’m speechless. Shocked. Enraged, when my mind comes back to me putting this picture together of my wife and another man. In front of my son.
I snap, lunging over Bree holding a still-fighting Jackson against her, grabbing the bastard by the throat, one hand fisting his shirt. His eyes open wider than I’ve ever seen anyone’s. My anger and the ear-splitting volume of my words hit everybody in the room, freezing them in place. “Get the fuck out of my house, or so help me I will—”
“Oh God, Landon, Jackson,” Bree sobs, holding her hand against my chest, trying to get between us. I ignore her.
Cry For You_A Second Chance Romance Page 11
