by Jo Raven
Thank fuck. A headache hammers at the back of my eyeballs. I’m shaking my head as I pull her into my arms, dizzy with relief. “I’m fine. Sorry I worried you.”
Dammit, she shouldn’t have come to Destiny with me. This was a mistake. If anything happened to our baby, I wouldn’t forgive myself.
Thank God we’re leaving. Even though I feel bad about leaving Evan alone with his problems, frankly, tomorrow can’t come fast enough.
Part Two
Matt
Once upon a time, I stood alone inside a cage. The cage was made of dreams and memories. I never thought memories could be so hard. Unbreakable. Impossible to escape.
I remember slamming myself against those self-made bars, the jagged edges of happiness I couldn’t let go of, cutting myself on all the good things I used to have.
The love I used to have, before life fucked me over and took it from me.
I was bitter. I lived on that bitterness, breathed it, drank it, held on to it.
See, I thought it was anger, but it was despair. It was the deepest, darkest night of my life, and it was never-ending. I couldn’t find the light switch, couldn’t find the door.
If you’re supposed to escape that dark alone, well… I failed. I don’t think all of us can get out on our own, no matter how strong we think we are. Sometimes we need help. We need a guiding hand, someone who won’t give up on us, who will hold on no matter what.
When her touch found me, I didn’t understand what it meant, what it was. She was as alien to me as the rest of the outside world. Nothing outside my cage made sense. Like looking through dark glass, I saw everything twisted and blurry.
But she was sharp as a blade, her touch slicing through me, and the pain… the pain woke me up. Brought me back. Being with her was good, it was warm and bright, and I couldn’t escape it.
Couldn’t escape the pleasure of it.
The pleasure brought me back. The joy of being with her.
Her love. She wrapped me up in it until I couldn’t hide anymore. Leaving the cage hurt like knives, hurt like dying.
Living again hurt. Moving past all I used to have, letting in all I could have now. With her.
I found out that it never stops hurting. The memories don’t vanish. They still cut fucking deep.
But living in the present, surrounded with love, that is worth the pain.
It’s worth everything.
Chapter Ten
Octavia
“God, I’m sorry,” Matt is saying, hugging me to his chest, and I’m still trying to breathe through the fear of seeing him down on the ground, Jasper’s—my father’s—men raining blows down on him. “Sorry I worried you. I just couldn’t stand the thought of him coming anywhere near you, torturing you like he’s doing to Evan. Of implying I didn’t want my kids, that raising them is a hardship, that having kids is a burden. Just because he is an asshole who can’t appreciate a good thing when he has it…”
“I know,” I whisper, my heart slowing its frantic beating.
“I wouldn’t want you for a second to think I’m not proud and happy to be a dad, that our baby—”
“I know.” I pull back, lift my hand to his face, wincing at the bruise spreading there. His eyes are still stormy. “I told you he’d hurt you if you let him. I didn’t think he’d send his thugs to punch you, but he hurt you where it matters the most, made you think I’d doubt you. Well, I don’t. Ever.”
His gaze softens. “Good. That’s good.”
And even with a blackening eye and swelling jaw, the look on his face is like the calm after the storm. I give him a weak smile, because crap, I’m still reeling from the shot of fear.
“Kiss me,” I whisper, and he leans down, slamming his mouth on mine, crushing me to him, swallowing the bitterness of my worry, wiping my mind clean.
When he breaks the kiss, straightening, it takes me a moment to catch my breath, my whole body thrumming with desire.
This guy… my guy. So sexy.
But he doesn’t seem as affected as I feel. Rather, he’s frowning, dark eyes scanning the garden. “Where’s Evan?” he mutters. “And Melissa?”
I draw away and turn around to look. The garden is empty. The door to the house is half-open. “They must have gone inside.”
He tugs me to his side. “Let’s go check on them.”
The way he says it twists my stomach again. Does he think Evan isn’t doing all right? Swallowing down bile, I let him lead me back to the house.
* * *
Evan is sitting at the kitchen table, his head in his good hand, eyes closed. I hurry around to his side, while Matt stares at him from the door.
“Where’s Melissa?” he asks, and Evan lifts his gaze.
“Evan?” I put a hand on his shoulder, and I’m not sure he even feels it, or sees me. “What happened?”
“He can’t keep me here,” he says, and looks haunted. “He thinks he knows my secrets, that he can hold them over my head, but he can’t. I have nothing to hide, don’t regret any of it, and I don’t care if Melissa finds out. I’m done.”
I share a confused look with Matt over Evan’s head. What is he talking about?
“What is Jasper holding over your head?” Matt asks, his voice low and measured. He drags a chair back and sits down across from us. “Talk.”
I open my mouth to say something, soften the question. Sometimes Matt reverts back to the caveman he was when I first met him, particularly when he gets stressed, and right now tension is radiating from every line of his strong body.
But Evan doesn’t seem to be put off by the commanding tone. “He found out about Melissa once, when her mom called me at the garage. To this day, I don’t know how Abby got her hands on that number, but she told Jasper the whole sob story, about how supposedly I had kidnapped her daughter and won’t let her see Melissa.”
“Sounds like a load of bullshit,” Matt mutters.
Evan nods. “It is. I got custody of Melissa after Abby left for the fifth time in a row, back when Melissa was a baby, with her drug-dealing boyfriend. Abby signed the papers.”
“I don’t understand,” I whisper, more confused than ever. “Is Abby still doing drugs? Why do you let the girl live with her at all if you have custody?”
“Yeah, what’s the deal with her?” Matt growls.
“Melissa isn’t staying with her mother. She’s staying with my sister. But my sister, though she loves Melissa, is a very busy woman. She works as a—”
“—sales representative for a big company,” I finish, as the picture starts to form in my brain. “But her mom is—”
“A junkie,” Matt finishes, a frown on his face. “is she around at all?”
“No.”
“But then what is her relationship to you if—” I start, and lean against the table, seeing what had been right in my face all along.
“She’s your daughter,” Matt says. “You’re Melissa’s father.”
Holy shit.
Evan nods, passes a hand over his mouth. “My fiancée left because she found out about the kid. Melissa doesn’t know this. Doesn’t know I’m her dad. She thinks I’m her uncle, Deanna her aunt. She hasn’t seen her mom in years. None of us have.”
“Is that why you moved here?” I ask. “To get Melissa away from her mom?”
“As far away as I could. Then my sis moved to St. Louis to be closer to us, and I stayed. Melissa needs a mother, and I’m not… I tried to find her a new mom, but it just didn’t work out.”
I squeeze his shoulder, not sure what to say. He looks so sad, he’s breaking my heart. “She’s a wonderful kid. You should be proud of her.”
“I am. I just wish…” He passes a hand over his eyes. “I wish I could be what she needs.”
“You are,” Matt says. “Damn, man, believe me, you are. And we’ll find a way to get Jasper off your back.”
Holy crap. I stare at his black eye and split lip and wonder if I should start worrying all over again...
* * *
Melissa comes into the kitchen as I set the table, and Matt heats up some mac and cheese for dinner. He’s nursing a beer, same as Evan, who still looks morose. He cracks a smile when Melissa comes around the table to hug him. Leaving his beer on the table, he opens his good arm for her, and she climbs onto his lap.
I wince, thinking of his ribs and collarbone, but his smile is real.
He’s a good dad, I think, hiding a smile of my own as I turn away to grab some glasses. I pour myself some juice, pour Melissa some milk, and sit down, suddenly bone-tired.
Again.
Mom told me it’s hormones making me so tired all the time, but boy, I’ve slept most of the day away today and here I am, ready for bed. I place a hand over my rounded stomach, trying to imagine having a baby in my arms.
We sit around the table to eat, and for a while there’s quiet, the only sound the clang of forks on plates. Familiar, comforting sounds.
Then Melissa says, “Octavia is having a baby. And Matt will be his daddy.”
Glances pass between the adults at the table.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Evan says.
“I want a daddy, too. And a baby.”
“A baby?” Evan chokes on his mouthful of mac and cheese, a horrified look on his face.
“A baby brother. My friend Louise has one, and he’s so cute. He threw up all over himself the other day.”
I can’t help it, I laugh.
They both give me a look. Like, this is serious.
Oops.
“Don’t you like living with Deanna?” Evan asks after a moment. “She’s great fun.”
“She’s always working.” Melissa pouts. “Besides, I prefer staying with you.”
Aw man. Evan has to tell her. He should be with his little girl, and she should know he’s her dad. She should know that Deanna isn’t her mom, but her aunt.
Would it make a difference? Would she be loved any less? I honestly doubt it. But here’s the thing: in her shoes, I’d have liked to have known the truth. Finding out who my dad was when I turned eighteen was such a shock. I wish I’d known sooner.
Why is life so complicated sometimes?
* * *
“Are you guys heading back tomorrow?” Evan asks as we clear the table. He insisted on helping, but Matt glared at him until he sat back down. He looks exhausted, smudges of purple under his eyes. He’s cradling his broken arm to his chest with his good one. “Back to St. Louis?”
“Yeah. Can’t stay away from the shop or my kids any longer.” Matt is elbow-deep in sudsy water, but he glances at Evan over his shoulder. “Why? If you need help with something else, you just have to say, man. You know I’ll find a way.”
“I know.” He’s frowning at a stain on the table top—or maybe something I can’t see. “Yeah, I know.”
But he doesn’t say anything else.
“Actually, we’re leaving Tuesday early in the morning,” I say quietly, and look at Matt.
His brows rise. “Why?”
“We’re going to pick Ross up from the prison before heading out, bring him here, home.” I swallow hard. “I thought you agreed.”
He holds my gaze, an unreadable expression on his rugged face. “Tay…”
I shake my head, busy my hands with the container of mac and cheese I’m covering with plastic wrap to put into the fridge. “Please, Matt. It’s important to me.”
Evan is staring. “Why you wanna do that? Since when do you wanna be friends with scum like Ross?”
“He’s my brother.”
“And Jasper’s your father, but I don’t see you wanting to get in any family time with him.”
“Of course not.” I shudder at the thought. “Ross is different.”
“He’s a bully. He’s in prison.”
“You don’t understand.” I glance at Melissa who’s playing with her dolls in the corner of the kitchen, a fort of pillows around her, on the carpet. “I need to see him. Talk to him.”
Matt wipes his hands on a towel and turns to face me, muscular arms folded over his chest. He says nothing, watching me closely, his dark eyes warm and concerned.
And it’s that look that convinces me to speak out.
“I have been having this dream,” I say, and God, now I wish I’d told Matt about it. “Of Ross.”
“That why you were crying yesterday?” Melissa asks, and I turn to find her watching, too.
Great.
I nod. “Yes.”
“You were crying?” Matt’s expression darkens. He looks torn between hauling me into his arms, and going out to find Ross and beat him up for making me sad in my dreams. “What’s the dream about?”
“It’s just… It starts with a bad feeling, the feeling something bad will happen, you know? The way it is sometimes in dreams?” I close the fridge and lean my back against it. “I’m driving through Destiny, in your old truck, and I’m going fast, trying to outrun someone or something. Merc is riding shotgun, and he’s talking to me, but I can’t make out the words. I know he’s scared, and so am I, and he keeps saying Ross’s name. I know he’s telling me Ross is in danger, even if I can’t really hear more, and that we have to get there in time to save him. But suddenly we’re off the road, rolling and Merc’s head hits the dashboard…” I draw a shaky breath. “Blood is running down his face, into his eyes. I keep seeing Merc… Merc dying, and then his face changes into that of Ross. That’s when I wake up.”
Silence greets my words.
Then Matt moves, sliding an arm around me and kissing the top of my head. “That’s a fucked-up dream.”
“Language,” Melissa says from her corner.
“Why are you so worried about Ross?” Evan asked.
I sniffle-laugh. “Have you met our father? What sort of question is that?”
“She’s right,” Matt says, startling me. “Growing up with Jasper as his only parent, what chance would Ross have to turn out right? But Tay…” He sighs. “That doesn’t mean he can be saved. You know that, right?”
“Yeah.” No, but… “Yeah, I get it.”
“We’ll pick Ross up.” Matt draws me completely into his arms. “So there’s still tomorrow, Evan, if you need us to run any errands.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“I only want to keep you safe,” he whispers back, “to protect your heart. But who am I to stand in the way of kindness?”
Says the kindest man I know. And that heart he speaks of… it’s all his. Has been, from the start.
Chapter Eleven
Matt
Fucking Ross. Taking over my girl’s dreams, scaring her. Yeah, I know it’s not voodoo. He isn’t doing this. Octavia’s mind is.
Still. Ross is a goddamn bully, and I got this thing against bullies. They’re psychopaths. They’re incurable. Fucking unforgivable. All the tearjerker stories you can tell me about Ross’s father, about his bad childhood and the reasons why, I can’t forget he hurt my girl.
But it looks like I’ll have to push my anger to the backburner for now. After all, we’re only gonna pick Ross up, drive him home, and be on our way. No forgiving and no bonding will take place, not if I have anything to say about it.
End Octavia’s nightmares and get home. That’s the plan.
Meanwhile, though, I check on Evan, and take Melissa to some neighbor friends of hers to play. I leave her there and drive on.
To the police station in the next town over.
Evan says he’ll move away, but hasn’t said when, or where he’s thinking of going, so I need to ask some questions about Jasper.
And okay, also about Ross.
I park my pickup on the street and march into the station, not sure who to ask, and itching to call Octavia, and then my kids, to make sure everyone’s okay.
They are, I tell myself.
Take a breath. Do what you came here to do. Then go.
I walk into the front office determined to be quick. Just fire off a few questions, tell someone my concerns, maybe, if possible,
see about getting a restraining order where Evan is concerned, and see if the cops could keep an eye on Jasper’s Garage, make sure he isn’t mistreating his other employees.
Or his son.
No, not going there. This is just Octavia’s weird nightmare fears rubbing off on me. I mean, I love my girl, but pregnancy hormones… yeah, not going there. Fucking alien things.
Right.
A super-serious-looking cop is sitting behind a computer screen at a desk as I enter, and I make a beeline for him. I’m opening my mouth to ask who I should talk to, when someone calls out my name.
“Matt? Matt Hansen?”
I turn to face a tall, Hispanic-looking guy, his dark hair cropped close to his scalp, formally dressed in pressed pants, shirt and tie. He looks familiar, but my mind goes blank for a second.
“I can’t believe my eyes.” He grabs my hand and shakes it, beaming, his grin blinding white. “What are you doing here?”
“John,” I say slowly. “John Elba.” The detective in charge of the case of the insane motherfucker who went after my kids and Octavia two years ago. “Didn’t know you were still in town.”
“Me? I’m always here. You’re the one who left.”
“You blame me?”
“Not at all.” He steps back, stares at me. “Holy shit.”
“What? Do I have something on my face?”
“Shut up. It’s not every day you stand in the presence of a happy ending, a good ending to an ugly tale. Let’s go, I’m buying coffee.”
“You’re nuts.” But now I’m grinning, too. Sure, John Elba is tied to some of my fucking worst memories in this world, but he’s right. It was a happy ending, and he was part of it. He was there, he helped, and hey, he’s police. Just the sort of guy I came to see. “Lead the way.”
* * *
“So is life kinder to you these days?” he asks over a cup of bitter, godawful coffee. “Everything going your way over in St. Louis?”
“It’s been okay,” I concede, pushing my coffee away, and then have to correct myself, because I feel I owe this guy the truth. “It’s been great.”
