by Lane Hart
“So, where’s your truck?” Alyssa asks when she rolled her car to a stop in the Havoc parking lot.
“Getting new tires,” I tell her, figuring she didn’t need to know some asshole had slashed all of them.
“Oh,” she replies. “Do you need a ride home?”
“It’s getting late. I’ll have one of the guys give me a ride to my apartment,” I tell her, leaning over to steal a kiss from her cheek since Grayson’s in the backseat. “I had fun tonight. Thank you,” I tell them both. “Can we go back there sometime soon?” I turn in my seat to ask Grayson.
“Definitely!” he answers.
“I had fun too,” Alyssa says before she gives me a quick kiss on the lips. “Wanna come over for dinner tomorrow night?”
“I would love to,” I tell her with a grin. “See you then.”
Climbing out of her car, I shut the door and wave goodbye before heading to the gym. It’s past closing time for regular members, which means Susan’s gone. A few coaches are still mulling around, working with the guys that will be going to the tournament. That means Mace, Luke and Patrick are still here going at it, along with Linc, who has a fight coming up on Christmas Eve. Jude’s currently sparring with him, helping him get ready. They look like they’re nowhere close to being finished; and since the tournament guys have been running full steam all day, I figure one of them might be ready to call it quits. Maybe it’s time to finally clear the air with Luke instead of trying to keep avoiding him and his parents after three years.
“Hey, Luke, I hate to ask this, but could you give me a ride home?” I ask when I walk up to where he’s toweling off on one of the treadmills.
His hands pause, holding the white cloth in front of his face as he stares at me with an open mouth, before he recovers and answers. “Ah, yeah. Sure.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it,” I tell him.
“Let me get a quick shower and I’ll be ready to go,” he says as he steps down from the treadmill and starts in the direction of the locker room.
“No rush,” I tell him as I head for my office to screw off until he’s ready. It’s not like I’m in a hurry to get back to my lonely apartment. The one that’s felt empty since Eli died. I certainly haven’t brought any dates home. Actually, now that I think about it, I’m not sure if I’ve had any friends over either since the accident. I’ve pretty much isolated myself from everyone, and it’s been…miserable. Until I met Alyssa.
“I’m not sure if I should thank you or kick your ass for this,” Patrick says to my back before I make my escape into the office.
“You’re welcome,” I reply since I know what he means. Sometimes I wonder what the fuck I’m still doing here, physically exhausting my body instead of doing something with my Business Management degree. It’s not like I need the money. You would be surprised how much cash you can win in casinos if you’re able to cheat the system. But eventually, I probably need to find something else to do. The thought of ever completely leaving this place is unimaginable, though.
“It gets easier,” I turn around and tell Patrick. “But the new trainer is brutal.”
Grumbling something I can’t make out, he wanders off.
Plopping down in the chair in my mostly empty office, I pull out my cell phone and do something I haven’t done in a while --- I start looking through old photos. Seeing the ones of Eli still make it impossible to comprehend that he’s really gone, even after holding his lifeless body so long ago. I can’t help but wonder if we would’ve been it for each other. Could we have both given up women? The night of the wreck Eli said he was gonna end things with his girlfriend, but I’m not sure if he really would’ve gone through with it. He loved her. Otherwise he would’ve broken up with her right after the first time we were together.
“Ready?” Luke asks from the doorway with his brother’s orange Clemson hat turned backward, hiding most of his blond hair that’s still damp from his shower. Eli had two hats he always wore, the Clemson one, where he wanted to go to college, and the black Wildcats hat identical to mine that we got from the stadium when we went and watched them play a few weeks before the wreck.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” I tell him, closing out the photos on my phone and getting to my feet. We say our goodbyes to everyone and silently make our way to his orange Mustang that practically glows in the darkness. Inside, the car smells new, and the black leather is flawless.
“Eli would’ve loved this car,” I tell Luke, finally doing the unthinkable and talking about the ghost that’s been in the room with us for far too long.
“Yeah, the choices on the lot were orange, yellow or black, and, of course, the orange reminded me of him,” he answers as he cranks the engine and we pull away. “You still live over in the Lake Pointe Apartments?”
“Yeah.”
“You know, right after he died, I really hated you,” Luke says, the words the exact reason I’ve avoided him for so long.
“I’m sorry,” I reply, swallowing past the razor blades clogging up my throat.
“It wasn’t for the reason you may think,” he tells me, his eyes never veering from the dark road. “I hated you because you knew my brother better than I did. You were his best friend, the person he spent all of his time with, and I was jealous.”
“He should’ve spent more time with you,” I agree, feeling guilty for keeping him from his family those last few months.
“I get it now,” he answers. “It wasn’t like he knew he was gonna die that night. And at first, it was easier to be angry at him for blowing us off on his birthday than to admit the truth --- that he wasn’t ever coming back.”
“I wish he had spent his birthday with you and Megan. Then maybe he would still be alive.”
“God, Megan,” Luke says with a shake of his head. “She probably had it the worst. I mean, she had no idea about you and him…not that any of us did, but she took it the hardest. Dammit, he should’ve at least been honest with her instead of stringing her along, making her think they were gonna get married one day...”
“He loved her and couldn’t let her go. Hell, maybe they would’ve ended up married,” I admit.
“No, they wouldn’t have,” Luke replies through clenched teeth. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter now.”
“There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t regret what happened or blame myself. If I could go back and change things, I would, but I can’t. Fuck, I still don’t even know why we wrecked. I don’t remember any other cars on the road…”
“Had he been drinking?” Luke snaps. “The truth.”
“God, no. He was driving because I had been drinking at the bar. If I hadn’t been so fucking drunk, I would’ve been driving, not him, and maybe none of this would’ve happened.”
“Good. I mean, I didn’t want it to have happened because he was stupid.”
“He wasn’t. Eli never touched alcohol. I wish I hadn’t.”
“Is that why you were at the bar the other night instead of his memorial?” Luke asks. “Because I was sort of pissed that you never show up.”
“Yes,” I answer. “And I don’t ever go to the memorial because you’re not the only one who hates me.”
“We don’t really hate you, and we never blamed you,” Luke says, putting his car into park when we reach my apartment complex. “We just miss him.”
“I know,” I reply. “I do too. Thanks for the ride.”
“No problem,” he says. “See you tomorrow.”
“Yeah, see you then,” I tell him before climbing out.
Oddly enough, talking to Luke wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. Getting everything off my chest and hearing him say they don’t blame me has me feeling lighter as I walk up the stairs to my second-floor apartment.
“Here, kitty, kitty, kitty!”
Mrs. Hargrove is standing on the breezeway in her housecoat and cap over her white hair, calling Tom, a stray cat that took up with her a few weeks ago but is known to wander like, well, a tomcat. Why this grandm
other moved into an apartment on the second floor has always amused me. When I asked her why she wanted to make the hike up and down the set of stairs, she said it would help keep her young.
“How’s it going, Mrs. Hargrove?” I ask as I search for the apartment key on my ring.
“Hello, Nathan. Just looking for Tom. He hasn’t been inside to eat in two days,” she answers.
“I’m sure he’ll come around soon,” I assure her. “Good night.”
“Oh, wait, it’s good I caught you,” she says, halting my steps.
“Whatcha need?” I ask, figuring she needs me to change a light bulb or fix her computer for her. Since her family has all moved away, I don’t mind helping her out whenever she needs help, and in exchange, she brings me plates of her leftovers a few days a week because she knows I don’t cook.
“Nothing tonight, but I was gonna let you know that a man was here earlier today looking for you.”
What the fuck? My hackles rise as all sorts of warnings go off in my mind.
“Who? Did he leave his name?” I ask.
“Nope, just some nosy guy who wanted to know if that was your apartment and if you would be home tonight. I told him I didn’t know when you come or go,” she says with a wink since she really does keep up with that sort of thing. “Might have been another reporter,” she offers.
“Maybe,” I reply since it’s possible. She’s told me about a couple that showed up Sunday afternoon wanting her to tell them about me, but Mrs. Hargrove’s lips are sealed. “Thanks and have a good night,” I tell her before stepping into my apartment.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Alyssa
Tonight Nate’s coming over, and we’re gonna sit down and have dinner at the table like a real family, the kind I always wanted with Austin but never really had. The memories of what Nate and I did at the dinner table a few nights ago causes my nose and cheeks to heat up and my womb to clench with need.
Is it too soon to ask him to sleep over? Of course, I worry about what Grayson would think about Nate staying the night; but at the same time, that’s what I want more than anything, to actually share a bed with him. It’s not like Nate’s a random stranger. I trust him and feel like I’m really getting to know him now that the air has been cleared between us. It doesn’t even bother me to know he was once with a man. The way I see it, it’s no different than any other female exes he had, because there’s no doubt in my mind that Nate’s attracted to me. More than that, I know he cares about me and Grayson.
During my downtime at work, I decide to look up the obituary for Eli Campbell. Finding and reading it made my heart ache for Nate. I can’t imagine how hard it was for him to lose someone he loved in such a sudden way. It wasn’t easy to handle the news that Austin had been killed, but at the same time, I had mentally prepared myself for years that he may not come back. And, no, after he served his first four years that were required of him, he didn’t have to go back. But he made the decision to have a military career, and I had no choice but to stand by that.
Putting in the anniversary date of his death, November twenty-eighth, I read through some of the articles about the memorial service at the church Eli and his family attended. There are several photos of him, a handsome young man with curly blond hair and a smile so warm it could win anyone over. So sad that he died in such a horrible way with his future ahead of him.
I try to find information about the wreck, but the accident report doesn’t say there were any other vehicles involved. He hadn’t been drinking either because they did blood tests, so the reporter in me can’t help but wonder what happened to cause him to lose control.
The article about the bar also showed up in my search since it happened on the anniversary date. Wanting to find out more about it now that I know Nate, I open it up and reread it. According to police, the gunman, Richard Tillman, didn’t have any prior criminal record before he stepped into the bar with a handgun and his pockets full of loaded magazines. While his reasoning may be unknown, his intention was clear --- he wanted a lot of people to die. Thankfully that didn’t happen because Nate was there. What a crazy twist of fate to have him there on the same night, at the exact same time as this lunatic.
Next, I look into the police records to check on the status of Tillman’s court case, and my jaw falls open in absolute shock.
He’s been released!
The asshole who wanted to kill a room full of people was released from jail. Apparently, his lawyer was able to get a carrying a concealed weapon plea deal for him based on his lack of record and time served. They can’t be serious!
Picking up the office phone, I dial the number for the police department and ask for W.D. Bradley, the officer in charge according to the records.
“Sergeant Bradley,” he answers.
“Yes, sir, Sergeant Bradley. I’m sorry to bother you, but my name’s Alyssa Grant, a reporter with The Cary Journal –”
“Oh yeah, the woman who wrote the article on Mr. Lewis. I’m not sure how you found out it was him. He requested we keep it out of the media, and we did our best to accommodate him.”
“Yes, I know. You could say that I’m a good friend of Mr. Lewis’s,” I explain. “Anyway, the reason I’m calling is, why wasn’t the public notified, why wasn’t Mr. Lewis notified that Richard Tillman has been released?”
“Look, if it were up to me, I never would let him walk free again, but it’s not. The judge and DA went along with the defense attorney’s plea. And as far as notification goes, that’s the district attorney victim witness coordinator’s job.”
“How could this happen?” I ask, completely baffled. As soon as I hang up the phone, I need to talk to Candice and get an article going for tomorrow’s paper.
“The defense attorney somehow convinced the judge that Tillman didn’t go in the bar looking for trouble and that Mr. Lewis assaulted him and found the gun. Since the prosecutor couldn’t prove what they thought he was gonna do, he walked.”
“Oh my God,” I mutter, losing all confidence in our criminal justice system.
“Believe me, I hate this shit, but my hands are tied. Let Mr. Lewis know that I’m sorry it went down like this. Hopefully, the judge knows what he’s doing by letting him go. Maybe the asshole learned his lesson, but I doubt it.”
“Me too,” I concur. The public is in danger and needs to know it sooner rather than later. And I can’t imagine how angry Nate will be when he finds out.
…
The rest of the afternoon flies by as I pick up Grayson from the Y, run to the grocery store to pick up a few things for the stir-fry I plan to make for dinner, review Grayson’s homework and then get busy in the kitchen.
I’ve just turned the burner down to low, to let everything cool down and simmer when I hear the doorbell.
“I’ll get it!” Grayson calls out.
“Look out the window to see who it is first,” I tell him since he’s not tall enough to look through the peephole.
“It’s Nate!” he says before I hear the front door open.
“Hey, little professor. How’s it going?” Nate’s deep voice asks. “Nice hoodie.” The first time I heard Nate use the nickname I thought he was making fun of Grayson, but now I know he didn’t mean anything negative by it. My son should be proud of the fact that he’s smart.
“The kids at school didn’t believe that I knew Jude Malone and Linc Abrams or that I was taking classes at Havoc,” Grayson tells Nate, explaining why he wanted me to buy him the Havoc hoodie.
“You know what? I bet I could get autographed pictures of the two of them for the entire class. How many do you need?”
“That would be awesome! There’s twenty-two, but twelve are girls.”
“Well, girls can learn to fight and protect themselves, too, right?” Nate asks.
“Yeah, I guess so. There are a couple of girls in my Tuesday and Thursday night class.”
“Yep, Stacy, Ana, Rebecca and Catherine. You should talk to them. They’re just as
tough as the guys, but some of the boys make fun of them. If you hear anyone say something they shouldn’t to them, you let one of the coaches know, okay? Think about them like they were your sisters. You wouldn’t want anyone to treat them badly, right?”
“Of course not,” Grayson says.
If there was ever a more decent man, I’ve never met him. Why I ever doubted Nate would be a good role model for Grayson, I’m not sure. I can imagine Austin’s reaction to girls in the MMA class. He would’ve suggested that they should be home playing with Barbies. He wasn’t the most tolerant person, but that’s how he was raised, by a stern, no-nonsense father. I want my son to be open-minded and respect women.
“Hey,” Nate says in greeting when he walks into the kitchen. “Need any help?”
“You’re too good to be true,” I tell him. “Not even my fictional characters can live up to you.”
That makes him laugh as he comes over and wraps me in his arms, placing a kiss to my cheek. “I’ve heard a little bit about these fictional characters of yours, but I want to know more. Patrick mentioned something about porn?” he whispers against my ear, making me shiver.
“He was snooping through my laptop,” I tell him as I inhale his comforting woodsy scent and relax into his hold, resting my head on his chest.
“Now I wanna do the same,” he jokes. “But seriously, I’d like to read anything you write.”
“It’s way too embarrassing. And it’s just a silly hobby.”
“Oh, come on. I’m curious,” he says.
Shaking my head, I pull away and go back to the oven to stir the vegetables around. “No way,” I answer. “But dinner is ready if you’re hungry.”
“Starving,” he says before coming up behind me and holding me around my waist. His lips press kisses along my neck, making me shudder even with the heat of the stove in front of me. “Could I maybe stay until Grayson goes to bed?” he asks quietly with his lips against my ear. God, I want him to take me to bed, but then I remember what I found out earlier today.
