by W Winters
She’s stuck in that moment. The monster in her dreams, following in her shadows.
“You want to go upstairs?”
She doesn’t answer right away and I add, “You need to sleep.”
It takes a moment, it always does with her, ever defiant, but she nods eventually. She pushes off from the counter, leaving the black coffee to steam in the mug where it sits, knowing it’ll go untouched and turn cold.
Her arms stay wrapped around her as she walks up the old stairs, and I follow behind her, listening to the wooden steps creak with every few steps.
I keep a hand splayed on her back and when we make it to the bedroom, she stops outside of the door. “You don’t have to babysit me,” she tells me, craning her neck to look up at me in the dimly lit hall.
“Maybe I want to lie in bed with you, ever think of that?” I ask her softly, letting the back of my fingers brush her cheek.
She takes my hand in both of hers and opens the door to her bedroom. It’s smaller than mine, but nice. Her dresser looks older, maybe an antique like the vanity she has in the corner of her room.
Everything is neatly in place, not a single piece of clothing is out, nothing is askew. Nothing except for the bed. It looks like she just got out of it. The top sheet’s a tangled mess and the down comforter is still wrapped up like a cocoon.
“When did you get up?” I ask her.
She shrugs and pulls back the blankets, fixing them as she answers, “I think around three… I don’t remember.”
“It was almost midnight when you said you were going to bed.”
“Yes,” is all she answers me.
“Come here.” I rip her away from straightening the sheets to hold her, and she clings to me. “It wasn’t real,” I whisper in her hair.
“I wish…” she pauses, then swallows thickly before confessing, “I wish it was in some way, because at least I got to see her.”
Her shoulders shudder in my arms. I don’t have words to answer her, so I lay her in bed, helping her with the blankets and climbing in next to her.
The kisses start with the intent to soothe her pain. Letting my lips kiss her jaw, where the tearstains are. Up her neck, to make her feel more.
And she does, she breathes out heavily, keeping her eyes closed and letting her hands linger down my body.
Slowly it turns to more. She deepens the kisses. She holds me closer and demands more.
“You’re still in trouble,” I whisper against her lips, reminding her that she needs to be punished. Her response is merely a moan as she continues to devour me with her touch.
“Not tonight, but it’s coming.”
Her eyes open slowly, staring into mine and she whispers, “I know.”
“Tell me what you want.” I give her the one demand, wanting her to control this. Giving her something I haven’t before.
“Don’t make this harder on me. Please,” she begs me and I nearly turn her onto her belly, to fuck her into the mattress like I’ve wanted to do since the day I first laid eyes on her, but then she says, “I don’t want to beg you for something like… like…”
“Like what?” I ask, not following.
“I don’t want to consciously ask… for… for this,” she whispers and opens her eyes to look back at me.
It takes a long moment to feel how deep that cut me. Maybe it’s the disbelief. “To ask for something … like for me to fuck you?” My tone doesn’t hide a damn thing I’m feeling as I sit up straighter in bed. “Is it offensive? Or do you just not want to admit that you want me?”
“Jase.” Bethany wakes in this moment, her eyes more alive than they were downstairs. Brushing the hair out of her face, she sits up straighter, and blinks away the haze of lust.
“Tell me what you want.” I give her the request again. Waiting. Every second the fucking agony grows deeper and deeper.
“Jase,” she pleads with me. But I ask for so little now. I’m trying to give her everything to make it right, but I need this. “Tell me,” I say. The demand comes out hard and her expression falls.
A moment passes and she takes my hand, but her grip is weak.
“Please,” she begs me, “I don’t want to be alone.”
“I know that, but you don’t want to be with me either. Do you? We shouldn’t be doing this anyway.” I say the words without thinking. I know we’ve both thought it. That what this is today isn’t what it was that night I had her sign the contract. And two nights ago, we should have parted ways. It’s volatile and wrong. Being with her is going to be my downfall, I already know it.
And yet here I am waiting for her answer, because she’s the only one of the two of us who has the balls to admit out loud that we shouldn’t be together.
She hesitates, although she doesn’t deny it. She doesn’t say anything. The silence grows between us, separating us and making it seem as if the last time we were together never happened.
Thump, there’s the dull pain in my chest. It flourishes inside of me as I stand there in silence.
“After what I did for you, I deserve better than that,” I snap back. It fucking hurts. There’s a splintering sensation in my chest as if the absence of her words truly injured me more than that cut she gave me the other night. Only one will scar.
Her lips turn down as she swallows, making her throat tight. Her inhale quivers but instead of saying anything, she shakes her head, her hair sweeping around her shoulders as she looks away.
Nothing. She gives me nothing and with that I turn my back to her, slamming the door shut behind me. As hard as I can. The force of it travels up my arm, lingering as I walk away from her.
I could tell her she still owes me; I could tell her that. But right now, I don’t want to.
An awful sound travels down the hall, following me. A sob she tries to cover. The kind you hope comes out silent, but it’s ragged and fierce. My footsteps thunder behind me as I take the stairs as quickly as I can.
The kind of sobs that you can’t control. The kind that hurt.
Both the pounding of my shoes as I leave and the evidence of her misery, both are uncontrolled and painful.
I have seen so much brokenness in my short life. I hate it. I hate how easily everything can be destroyed and wasted. It’s so useless to live day by day, not just seeing it all around you, but making it so.
Standing at the bottom of her stairs, with one hand on the wall and the other gripping the banister, I listen to her cry. Crying for me? And the pain she’s caused me? Crying for herself and how alone and empty her life truly is? Crying for us?
And it takes me back to the time I heard similar cries. A time I left.
And I remember what was left of me when I came back to see the damage done.
My body tenses and my throat dries as I stand in between the man I was before and the man I’ll be tomorrow.
Tonight is mine regardless and knowing that, I turn on my heels and make my way back up the stairs as quickly as I can, pushing her door open without knocking. Her wide eyes fly to mine as I kick the door shut behind me.
“Jase?” She whispers my name in the same way the snow falls around us. Gentle and hopeful the fall won’t last for long.
She moves on the bed, making a spot for me easily enough although her eyes are still wide and searching for answers. She stays sitting up even though I climb in and lie down back where I was, pulling the covers over my clothes.
It’s too hot, but it’s better than taking the time to do something other than lie down with her.
Patting the bed, I tell her to lie down, noting how gruff my voice is. How raw.
“Are you angry?” she asks and I tell her I’ve always been.
Molding her small body to mine, she rests her hands on my chest, still wary, still exhausted. Still hoping for more. “I’m sorry,” she whispers and I tell her so am I.
Hope is a long way of saying goodbye. Even I know that.
Her hair tickles my nose when I kiss the crown of her head. The covers ru
stle as I move my arm around her, rubbing soothing circles on her back.
Time marches on and with it the memories of long ago play in my mind. Making me regretful. Making me question everything.
“Why did you come back?” she asks me before brushing her cheek against my chest and planting a small kiss in the dip just beneath my throat.
I confess a truth she could use against me. Even knowing that, still I admit, “I don’t want you to be alone either.”
Jase
The snow’s falling. It’s only a light dusting, but it decided to come right this moment, right as my brother leads his love across the cemetery.
One grave has been there for half her life. The one next to it has freshly upturned dirt. The snow covers each of the graves equally as Aria silently mourns, her body shaking slightly against Carter’s chest.
I spoke to her father only days before he met his death. A death he knew was coming. A death that always comes for men like us.
The powerful man asked me to find a way. Swallowing his pride when he thought his daughter was going to die because of him.
Talvery wasn’t ready to lose his daughter. She swears he was going to kill her.
That’s the irony in it all.
He was a bad man. And that’s the crux of the problem. She expected him to do bad things, even if she loved him in his last days, although I don’t believe she did love him anymore.
She swears he was going to shoot her, but there was only one gun cocked and it wasn’t her father’s. She heard it, she speaks of it, but she doesn’t realize what really happened and I don’t have the heart to tell her.
The man who pulled the trigger confessed to me. He said in the old man’s last breaths, he laid down his gun and said goodbye to his daughter. But she didn’t see, clinging to a man she loved and not to the man who gave up fighting to ensure she would be loved one more day.
That’s what this life brings. A twisted love of betrayal. A reality that is unjust and riddled with deceit.
Aria lays a single rose across her mother’s grave, but not her father’s, even though when he called me, he said he would give up everything right then and there, if I promised we’d keep her safe.
There was no negotiation we could offer.
Her father had to die. And Aria was never in harm’s way. The man had nothing to barter with, not when he knew we’d take it all. I never told Carter. And I never will. The perception that her father was a ruthless crime lord past his date of redemption is what makes it okay. It makes it righteous that she only lays a rose down for her mother, a woman who betrayed everyone to benefit herself.
Watching Carter hold her hand, kiss her hair and comfort her, only reminds me of what could have been. If the gun cocked had been Talvery’s and my brother was in that grave instead.
Bright lights reflect a section of falling snow. Headlights from a cop car pulling in across the parking lot I’m sitting in.
Gripping the steering wheel tighter, I take into account everyone here. It’s only me, still in the driver’s seat waiting for Carter to bring Aria back and the sole cop parking his vehicle across from mine.
Before Carter has a chance to look behind him, taking attention away from Aria, I message him. I’ve got it. Stay with her.
A second passes, and another before Carter looks down at the message, back at me, and then to the cop, who opens his door in that moment.
Officer Walsh.
The sound of his door closing echoes in the vacant air. It’s hollow and reflects its own surroundings.
As I open my car door, welcoming the cold air, breathing it in and letting it bite across my skin, I nod at Carter, who nods in return, holding Aria closer, but not making a move to leave.
The snow crunches beneath my shoes, soft and gentle as it falls. It vanishes beneath my footprints as I make my way around to the front of my car, leaning against it and waiting for him.
As I take in the officer, a crooked smile forms on my face. We’re wearing the same coat. A dark gray wool blend. “Nice coat, Officer Walsh,” I greet him and offer a hand. He’s hesitant to accept, but he does.
Meeting him toe to toe, eye to eye, his grip is strong.
“So you’ve heard of me?” he asks. I lick my lower lip, looking over my shoulder to check on Carter one more time before I answer him, “I heard someone was asking about me, someone who fit your description.”
“Funny,” he answers with a hint of humor in his voice, although his pale blue eyes are only assessing. “I heard the same about you.”
“That I was asking about you?” I ask with feigned shock as I bring my thumb up to point back at me. “I only asked who was asking about me and my club.”
“The Red Room.” The officer’s voice lowers and his gaze narrows as he speaks. He slips his hands into his coat pockets and I wait for more, simply nodding at his words.
Some cops are easy to pay off. They need money, they want power, or even just to feel like they’re high on life and fitting into a world they could only dream of running themselves.
I can spot them easily. The way they walk, talk—shit, even the clothes they wear on their time off. It’s all so fucking obvious. The only question that needs answering is: how much do I need to pay them until they’re in my back pocket?
Not Cody Walsh.
“What is it that you want, Officer?” I ask him and then add, “Anything I can help you with?”
“Anything you had in mind?” he asks in return, tilting his chin back and waiting.
The smirk on my face grows. “I don’t dislike having conversations with cops.” I follow his previous gaze just as he looks back at me and see Carter and Aria making their way back to the car that’s still running. “But I don’t really like to start a conversation either.”
He’s playing me. Thinking I’ll try to bribe him for nothing. What a fucking prick.
“Is that his wife?” he asks me, and I tell him the truth. “His fiancée.”
“Aria Talvery,” he comments.
“You know a lot of names for being new around here.”
“It’s my job,” he answers defensively.
“Is it?” I rock back on my shoes as I slip my hands into my pockets. My warm breath turns to fog in the air. “You know everyone’s name who you pull over then?” I ask him.
“Not unless their name is in the file of the case I’m working on.”
“A case?” I ask him as the cold air runs over my skin, seeping through my muscles and deep down into the marrow of my bones. I feel the shards of ice everywhere, but I don’t show it. “It’s the first time I’m hearing about a case.”
“A house burned down, killing over a dozen men, explosives.”
“Aria’s family home,” I remark, acknowledging him with a nod. “What a tragedy.”
“It was arson, and one of a string of violent crimes that leads back to you and your brothers.”
With the sound of the car door opening behind me, indicating Carter is helping Aria into the backseat, my patience is gone.
“If you have questions, you can ask my lawyer.”
“I don’t have any for you,” he tells me and I huff a humorless laugh before responding, “Then why come to pay this visit?”
“I wanted to see her reaction; if she was remorseful at all.”
“Aria?” The shock is apparent in my tone and my expression, because I didn’t hide it in the least. I shouldn’t be speaking her name. I shouldn’t even engage with this fucker. And that’s the only reason I’m silent when he adds, “Knowing she’s sleeping with her father’s killer…”
He shakes his head, although his eyes never leave mine.
“Is that all then?” I ask him.
A moment passes, and with it comes a gust of cold wind. Each day’s been more bitter than the last and with a snowstorm coming, the worst is yet to come.
“That’s all,” he says and then his eyes drift to my windshield before he adds, “And pay your parking tickets. Wouldn’t wa
nt that to be what gets you.”
All I give him is a short wave, right before snatching a small piece of paper off the windshield. It’s not a parking ticket, it’s a thick piece of yellow paper folded in half. It’s been here for a while, partially covered by the snow. And knowing that, I look back to see if Walsh is watching. His eyes are on Carter, not me. Thank fuck.
I don’t know who the fuck left it, but I’m not going to figure that out while under the watchful eyes of Officer Walsh.
Lacking any emotion at all, I bid the man farewell. “Have a good night, Officer.”
With my back to Walsh I share a glance with Carter, who’s waiting by the backseat door on the driver’s side, one hand on the handle, his other hand in his pocket.
“You too,” the officer calls out in the bitterly cold air, already making his way back to his car.
It’s silent when I close the door. Aria tries to speak, but I hear Carter shush her, telling her to wait for the officer to leave. Peeking at her in the rearview mirror, worry clouds her tired eyes.
“Everything’s fine,” Carter reassures her and she lays her cheek, bright red from the frigid air, onto his shoulder.
My gaze moves from the cop car, reversing out of the spot, to the note. The sound of the thick paper opening is all I pay attention to as Officer Walsh drives away, leaving us alone in the parking lot.
A sharp ringing in my ear accompanies my slow breaths and the freezing sensation that takes over when I glance at the note, a script font I recognize as Marcus’s.
How the fuck did he leave a note? And when? I read his message and then read it again. The psychopath speaks in riddles.
You took my pawn. I have another.
The game hasn’t stopped. It’s only changed slightly.
Just remember, the king can only hope to be a pawn when his queen is gone.
Every hair on my body stands on end after reading the note, knowing he was here. How the fuck did I not see him?
“What’s wrong?” Carter asks me as I reach for my phone, needing to tell Seth and everyone else what happened and get security footage immediately.
