by Racquel Reck
Shit. He could be anywhere. Maybe Tryst shouldn’t have killed Gary.
“I’ll go check the basement. It’s huge and there’s a small tunnel to the garage.” Sasha heads to a rug and pulls it up, revealing a door. A second later she disappears down it.
I nod to Wiley. “Go with her. And make sure she doesn’t—”
“I gotcha.”
I leave him to it. I open the first door on the right and it’s nothing but a small bathroom. After quickly checking the shower, I move onto the next room. “Ben!”
The room’s empty. Only a full-sized bed and nightstand. There’s a closet next to it and I open the door.
Relief floods through me. Except for a shiner, a chain dog collar around his neck and some tears, Ben looks okay. He’s trapped inside a dog kennel with a padlock on the front of it.
“Dad! Get me out!”
He’s calling me Dad. Despite the shitty situation, it’s everything I need to hear. “I will, buddy. Just hang tight. I gotta find something to get the lock open.”
“He’ll kill you. He told me he was going to kill you!”
I shake my head. “Don’t worry buddy. He ran from us. Just calm down. I’m going to get you out.”
Forty-one
Morgan
Lina’s ashes sit in a purple and silver urn on top of the mantle. Gloom in the air, the funeral home is full of people in black. Some cry and others mourn quietly the loss of a good woman. Bryan’s sad words filter through the air, saying goodbye to the love of his life. It could’ve been Shay. Thank God it wasn’t. But fuck…Lina. Relief and shame war in my gut.
Bryan’s voice cracks and his words halt. He looks out over us and adjusts the sling holding his right arm. He wipes his eyes. “Sorry, I…” He clears his throat and his eyes dart around the crowd, “I can’t do this. She wasn’t supposed to die. She was too young and our life was just starting. I asked her to marry me…we were going to after the tour. And now...” He looks at her urn, then shakes his head. “I can’t.” He stalks from the podium into a back room.
Wiley and Lina’s mom follow.
That couldn’t have been easy for him. We all feel the pain that he’s going through. I want to run after him and give him some words of comfort, but I don’t know what to say. Instead, I walk up to the podium. If I can’t comfort him, I might as well cover for him.
I look out over Lina’s friends and family. “For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Morgan. I may be the leader of the band Lina was a part of, but she was the glue that held us together—her heart, her spirit. Her drive to succeed was the force that made us all focus on our common goal.”
Visions of Lina breaking up fights flood into my mind. My heart aches and I want to cry. I force myself to hold it together. My eyes zero in on Shay. She’s crying, but nods to encourage me. “I remember when I first met her. I wanted our band to be all guys, but then she played. Her talent was beautiful. I couldn’t believe that she wanted to be in a heavy metal band. She should have been playing in an orchestra. The way her fingers tickled those keys matched her heart.”
I run my hand through my hair. What else can I say? “When she hooked up with Bryan, I remember thinking, ‘Now, there’s a lucky man.’ Lina had a way of making you feel like you were special, but also had a talent for making you see when you were wrong. She was a great addition to our lives. And we won’t be the same without her. She was one of a kind. We’ll miss you, Lina.”
I leave the podium and a woman takes over, one of the girls Lina went to school with. She begins to go through memories of their times together, and the service moves quickly after that. Ten more people come and go, saying their goodbyes before the priest says a few things, and a verse from the Bible.
Bryan hasn’t come back, but Lina’s mom has. She’s standing next to the urn as we wait to hug her and give her our condolences. It’s my turn.
Rivers flow from her brown eyes, and I give her a soft hug. “I’m so sorry for your loss. Lina was a great girl.”
She nods.
I’m not good in these types of situations. I should be. I’ve lost both of my parents. I know how it feels to lose. Maybe that’s why. Because even though people’s hearts are in the right place, nothing they say makes the situation better. In the end, the person’s still dead, and you still have that hollow ache in your heart. I move on and let Shay say take over.
I head through the back to find Bryan. He hasn’t returned to the service and I’m worried about him.
Walking down a long hall, I check each room but come up empty. I open the last door, and Tryst is standing by a window looking out, his face expressionless. There are about ten other people in the room, but they talk quietly in little groups and don’t notice me as I enter.
When I come up to Tryst, he turns and looks at me, a scowl on his face. “It’s her funeral. It shouldn’t be a media circus.”
I glance out the window.
Reporters from all the local news stations and paparazzi litter the funeral home’s lawn. It comes with the territory. Her death and the shooting have been topping the headlines for three days now. Something needs to happen. I wish Justin or Miley would do something stupid and take the heat off of us. Lina’s family doesn’t need this crap. “No, it shouldn’t.”
“Do you know how I felt when I killed Gary?” His voice is a soft whisper.
I glance around to make sure no one has heard him. They give no indication that they have. Everyone’s too upset to pay attention to Tryst’s confession. “I don’t think we should talk about this.”
Tryst turns from the window, leans against the sill, and crosses his arms, his posture as casual as if he were about to talk about the weather. “I felt nothing. No remorse. No relief. No vengeance. Not during or after.”
“Where are you going with this?”
“I need to go out there and confess.”
What? Did I just hear this dude correctly? “No. That’d be a very bad idea, my friend.”
He shakes his head. “Lina’s family doesn’t deserve this. And there’s something wrong with me.” He points to his temple. “Up here. Dudes like me belong in a mental ward. What if I do it again? I’ve done it before. Just ’cause it was in war, does that really make it right?”
“Don’t do this, dude. Please. You were doing us all a favor by killing that guy. No one knows he’s dead. You don’t need to play Mr. Martyr here.”
“I killed Bebe’s brother. Doesn’t she deserve to mourn him? She might’ve hated Gary’s actions, but she’s still his sister. It’s only right. Me confessing.”
I get what he’s saying. And Bebe does deserve to know. “You’re right. You say you don’t feel anything. But you do. You might not know it, but what you just told me screams ‘guilt.’ I don’t think you should tell the news. That’s not who you should confess to first. Bebe deserves to hear it from you instead of finding out on the TV.”
“I plan on telling her first.” He runs a hand over his shaved head. “I should go find her, then go outside and confess. The cops out there will handcuff me, and the media will more than likely follow us to the police station.”
“I don’t want you to do this, dude.” It’s only right, but my reasons are selfish. I don’t care. He did us a favor and he doesn’t deserve to be punished for it. Nothing I say will stop him, though. If I’ve learned one thing about Tryst it’s that once he sets his mind to something, he does it, no matter the fall out.
“Take care of my cousin and your kids.” He gives me a weak smile. “Don’t let Shay feel guilty over what I’m about to do, ’cause I know she’ll think it’s all her fault cause she hooked up with that asshole. And it’s not my job to protect her from herself anymore. It’s yours. Killing Gary was my last act as her savior.” He pats my shoulder. “You’re a good guy, Morg. I’m glad she has you.”
I stare a hole into his back as he leaves the room. There has to be something I can do. I can’t let him fuck up his life because of that evil piece of
shit. Even dead, Gary is still hurting those I care about. There has to be a way for this all to be okay.
My phone vibrates and I look down. It’s the real estate guy I talked to yesterday. I don’t need this distraction. My friend is about to throw himself off a cliff. I’ll call the guy back later. Right now I need to stop my friend from making a humongous mistake.
Shay
“I barely knew her and I’m sobbing like a baby.” I take the tissue Bebe hands me and blow into it. We’re in a spacious back room with low lighting. Mourners are around us, talking and crying quietly.
Bebe, dressed in black for the first time in her life, leans in. “Death is sad. And Lina was a great woman. She never judged me like the others did.” She sits back in her chair and smiles. “I remember the first time I met her at the after party. She broke up a fight between me and Paula. That woman sure had some guts, I’ll tell you. And she took my side.”
And that’s huge, considering how Gretchen and I are the only women who’ve liked Bebe and given her a chance. Most women hate her. It’s probably because she could take their men. It’s not her fault. She’s messed up and has an addiction to sex. But she’s a really good person when it comes down to it. The woman has a heart of gold and would do anything for the ones she cares about.
Tryst comes through the door and walks up to us. His face expressionless. “I need to talk to both of you, and you’re not going to like what I have to say.”
Uh-oh. What did I do now? The last time Tryst said something along those lines was when we made up in the hospital and he called me out on my shit. It was hard to hear, but he forgave me for dumping Morgan and going back to Gary, and forgiveness with Tryst is hard to come by. He can really hold a grudge.
He plops down on the couch in between Bebe and I. “I have a confession I—”
“He wants to confess his love for Bebe.” Morgan walks up and plops down next to me.
“What?” Bebe shrieks.
“That’s not what I have to say.” Tryst is glaring at Morgan.
What the hell is going on?
Morgan nods. “I know but I thought it would lighten the mood.”
“It’s a funeral. You shouldn’t lighten the mood.” Now Bebe’s glaring at Morgan.
“You’re right, Bebe. I’m sorry.” Morgan’s eyes lock on Tryst. “There’s a right time for everything. And a funeral is no place for confessions.”
“Fuck that. I want to know what Tryst has to say.” I glance at Tryst. He’s death staring at Morgan.
Tryst looks at me and his expression softens. “I was the one who should’ve been keeping an eye on Ben the night he was taken.”
Really? “Ben’s safe. And Gary took off. You don’t have to feel guilty about that. I never blamed you.” Morgan and Tryst told me how it went down. They beat Gary and Morgan told him what they found on his computer. The underground kiddie fight clubs he was running for profit. Gary escaped when they called the cops.
Tryst nods.
“What did you need to tell me?” Bebe quirks a brow.
Tryst sighs. “I’m sorry that he’s your brother.”
“That’s it?” Bebe scrunches her face. “That’s all?”
“Pretty much.” He stands. “Good talk.” Then he leaves.
There’s something wrong with my cousin. He doesn’t say sorry over things he has no power to control. His apology to Bebe makes no sense.
I go to stand and Morgan grabs my arm. “Let him go. I think he’s still working out some shit. He needs to be alone.”
“What just happened—”
“I gotta go.” Bebe eyes the way Tryst left then looks back at me. “I’ve got a client in forty minutes.” She stands. We do, too, and she hugs me. “Are you leaving soon?”
“Yeah, I should. Gretchen’s probably in need of relief. Carla and Ben have got to be taking a lot out of her.”
She nods and leaves through the door Tryst did.
I turn to Morgan. “What’s going on with Tryst?”
He rolls his ring between lips. “We weren’t completely honest in what happened to Gary. He wanted to come clean. But now isn’t the time for it. We’re supposed to be mourning Lina. I just reminded him of that.”
My gut sinks. “You lied to me?”
“No, well, yes…but only because you were with Bebe when we brought Ben back. I was going to tell you the truth, but Bebe can’t know until I figure it out.”
“Figure what out?”
“Tryst slit Gary’s throat and we covered it up.”
Whoa. My head’s spinning and I’m shocked. Gary’s dead. A wave of relief washes through me. Does that make me a bitch? I should be sad, right? Instead, the only thing I feel about this messed-up situation is grief for my two closest friends. This is so fucked up. I get why Morgan and Tryst had to lie to Bebe. But— “She deserves to know.”
Morgan nods. “I know. Tryst should be the one to tell her, though.”
He has a point. And the seriousness of the situation hits me—if Tryst tells Bebe what he did, he will end up in prison for the rest of his life, all because I chose the wrong guy. He killed Gary to protect me. I have to protect him. I have to keep this a secret and he can’t tell Bebe. “I have to find him.”
I go to leave and Morgan steps in front of me. “He was going to confess to you both. I stopped him. He won’t be doing it any time soon.” His arms come around me. “Let go say our goodbyes and get out of here. I want to get back to the kids.”
Epilogue
Two months later…
Shay
Morgan’s arms wrap around me and squeeze me to his body. I soak up the loving embrace. He’s been out of rehab for a week now and will be leaving again to go on tour in a couple of days. He’ll be back for Christmas, but leave again after that to wrap up his tour. I wish we had more time. But this tour is to raise money for victims of domestic violence, and he feels strongly about it, which makes me love the man even more.
“Mm…” Morgan kisses the side of my neck. “I love waking up to this every morning.”
I squint at the clock. “It’s three a.m.” I groan and close my eyes. Our daughter just started sleeping through the night last week, and I want to take full advantage. “Not time to wake up.”
His hand roams from my hips up my nightshirt to cup my left breast. His morning wood presses against my ass, and I can’t help but grind into it. Arousal coils tight down below, and I want that hand to travel south. I’m tired, but my body doesn’t seem to care. It never cares about sleep when I’m with Morgan.
He nibbles my lobe as his fingers roll my nipples. “Tell that to my cock.”
I scissor my legs and moan. He has a way of making me become a puddle with his words. I turn to face him and my lips meet his in a kiss that goes from gentle to furious in a matter of seconds. My hands glide over his sculpted warm chest, memorizing each cut for when I’m alone and he’s away.
He laces his fingers into my hair and massages my head. Tearing away from my mouth, he paints kisses down my neck then presses me back into the mattress. “God, I love you.” He grinds into me and his hand moves down my side to my thighs. “I wanna marry you.”
I freeze. “Why? What we have is good. Why do we need it on paper?”
He props himself up and looks down at me. It’s dark, and I can’t see his face, but the tension in his stare is there, all the same.
“Because, Shay. I want you to have my last name. You’re mine, and I want everyone to know it.” He reaches over, hits the dim light on his nightstand and opens the top drawer. He pulls out a velvet box and opens it. Inside is an impressive rock in an elaborate setting made of silver or white gold.
It’s freaking gorgeous.
I sit up. My heart does a double pound in my chest as I take the box. He’s given me so damn much, he really doesn’t have to give me more. Hell, he gave me Carla, brought Ben back home to me, bought me my new shop and taught me how to love the right way. Now this? What more can this man do? Suddenl
y the document I have in my top drawer seems so small in comparison.
I look up from the box and there’s that unsure look on his face again. The one where he rolls his lip ring between his lips. He’s scared I’m going to say no. It’s important to him.
“I never believed in marriage.” I stare down at the ring. “My parents are still married, but the whole time growing up, I never saw them kiss. Not once. They were both too busy with their own careers to care about silly things like love. They frowned on public displays of affection. Their marriage was just another business deal.” I sigh and take the ring out of the box.
It really is a beautiful ring. “We love each other and that should be enough. Why enter into a contract when what we are is so much more than that?”
He takes the ring from me and grabs hold of my left hand. “Because marriage is not supposed to be a business deal.” He slips the ring on my ring finger. “It’s a symbol of our bond. A promise that no matter how much the connection might strain, we’re married, and we’ll work through it. I never believed in it either. I watched my parents ruin each other.”
He half laughs. “When I died, for that brief couple of minutes, I saw my dad. It could have been a hallucination, but the message rang true. They didn’t destroy each other. They destroyed themselves. They shouldn’t have been married in the first place. Their connection wasn’t strong enough. But you. Me. What we have is. We’ve been through so much and bounced back. You straightened my ass out. You’re a gift. One I will cherish for as long as I live. So yeah, I wanna marry you.”
Tears trickle down my cheeks. My heart warms and feels like it’s going to burst. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. I’m scared to take this leap with him, but he—we deserve this. I found someone who loves my kids and me unconditionally. I owe it to him and myself to make it work. “Yes.”
