Fight for Me: The Complete Collection

by Jackson, A. L.

  “No.” It was a whimper from her mouth.

  Grief.

  “Rynna,” I whispered, arm going out to gather her up. To steady her. To let her know it didn’t matter this fucking bitch was standing at my door.

  Panic surged through me when she dodged my touch and lurched forward, grabbing her purse from where she’d set it on the floor the night before, and then bolted out my door.

  Janel stumbled out of her way as Rynna blew by.

  No fucking way was I letting this happen.

  I darted after her. “Rynna. Stop. Don’t leave. Don’t . . . fuck, don’t leave.”

  Don’t leave.

  She didn’t seem to be able to focus when she looked back at me. She kept moving, stumbling down the steps of my front porch and clinging to the railing with one hand and Milo with the other, her eyes glazed over with confusion.

  With horror.

  With disbelief.

  Like she was running from her own ghosts.

  “Rynna,” I begged it again, desperate where I stood at the edge of my porch. Right where I’d confessed to her all my secrets last night.

  “Please . . . just . . . don’t,” she pleaded. Her eyes flashed to Janel for a beat before she had a hand up to stop me. Frantic, she swallowed. “I have to . . . I have to get out of here.”

  “Rynna.”

  With a sharp, erratic shake of her head, she turned, fumbling as she shot forward.

  Every part of me wanted to chase after her. Last thing I wanted was to be standing there, helpless, watching her flee across the road and disappear inside her house.

  But I had an issue I needed to manage.

  Hands clenched, I slowly turned to look at where Janel stood at the far end of the porch. She was twisting her fingers, throat wobbling, just as sure as her bottom lip. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to just show up—”

  My head cocked, words nothing but fiery darts that cut her off. “You’re sorry?” I took a menacing step forward. “Three fucking years, and you’re sorry?”

  “Rex . . . I . . . I can explain.”

  “I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.”

  My heart dropped to the fucking floor when Frankie was suddenly there in the doorway, tiny fists rubbing at her sleepy eyes. “Daddy? Who’s is here?”

  “Baby,” Janel suddenly said. She lunged forward, going right for her.

  Anger.

  Disgust.

  Disbelief.

  They roiled.

  I reached out and gripped her by the upper arm, probably harder than I should have. “Don’t you dare.”

  She looked at me as if she couldn’t believe I would stop her. As if she had any right. I pushed her behind me and dropped to my knees in front of my daughter. Almost frantic, I brushed back that unruly disaster of hair from her face while I felt everything inside me bust apart. “Need you to do Daddy a big, huge favor.”

  She grinned, and I fucking cringed when she glanced over my shoulder.

  And I fucking saw it.

  The recognition. The goddamned pictures I used to show her, thinking her seeing her mother’s face might comfort her. Back when I promised my daughter that her mother would be coming back. That everything would be all right. Knowing someday Janel would come to her senses and return.

  When I’d remained devoted.

  I’d prayed for it.

  Begged for it.

  Motherfucking loyalty.

  “Is that’s my mommy?” She seemed confused by it, not exactly excited.

  Wary.

  That panic lit in an all-out frenzy.

  “Yes, baby. Yes. I’m your mommy.”

  Every muscle in my body seized, and I wanted to lash out. Shout at Janel. Tell her to go right back to hell where she’d come from.

  I shifted so Frankie could only look at me, and I begged her with my eyes. “Daddy needs you to do me that favor, Sweet Pea.”

  She nodded at me. Like she’d just caught on to my turmoil.

  I squeezed her by the hips. “Need you to go into your room and shut your door. Don’t come out until I come get you, okay? Can you do that for me?”

  She nodded with all that trust. “Course, I can.”

  “Good girl,” I told her, hoping my words didn’t shake.

  I didn’t rise until she turned the corner at the end of the hall, only pausing to peer back at us once, curiosity and a shot of fear in the wells of her brown eyes.

  Like she could feel mine.

  Years of suppressed, barely checked hate.

  It was all there in the clench of my fists when I finally pushed to my feet. My teeth ground so hard I was sure they were grating to dust. And Janel? She just stood there with a pleading expression on her face. A face I’d once thought pretty.

  Gorgeous even.

  This woman, who I’d allowed to twist me up and tie me, left me hanging out to dry.

  Tears sprang to her eyes and raced down her face. “She’s so big.” Her words hitched.

  “It’s been three years. What did you think?” Mine were nothing but spite.

  Her head shook, and she looked away, dropping her gaze. “I don’t know. It feels like it’s been forever and like it was only yesterday.”

  A huff scraped my throat. “Yesterday? She was barely walking when you left. She starts school next year. You don’t get to come here and pretend like you didn’t miss anything when you missed everything.”

  My head shook. Harsh. A jolt to clear the chaos. The disorder that tumbled and shook.

  I angled back on her, bitterness bleeding out. “What do you want?” This woman could come in and rip apart our unstable world.

  Standing there, wearing all that bullshit innocence written in her features. Holding all the power in the palm of her seedy hand.

  “You’re my husband.”

  She might as well have punched me in the face. Kicked me in the gut. Her statement blew through me like a grenade. “Don’t fucking call me that.” It dropped out in a low, slow threat.

  “It’s the truth.”

  Hostility shook my head. “You haven’t belonged to me in a long time.”

  “I never stopped belonging to you. You didn’t sign the papers, remember? That was your choice. A choice I let go.”

  Fuck.

  Mother. Fuck.

  “Doesn’t mean anything,” I grated.

  She took a pleading step forward. “It means everything. I—”

  Hopeless, she looked to the house that was supposed to be our home. The one she’d set afire. Burned it straight into the ground, leaving that bullshit note about how it was all my fault before she just fucking took off and left us behind.

  Right then, I might as well have been back there. A prisoner to that day. Missy lying dead at my feet and my wife driving away.

  Leaving me.

  My attention moved across the street, to the impenetrable silence that hovered like stone around Rynna’s house.

  Don’t leave me.

  A sob erupted in the air, stealing my focus, my purpose. I jerked my head back to Janel, who pressed her hands over her heart. Like she was trying to keep it inside. “You’re with her? With Rynna?”

  “How do you know her?” I demanded.

  Apparently, last night I’d ripped off the lid to Pandora’s box. Every demon in my past flying out. Guess it only seemed fitting one stood on my front porch. Seeking a way in when I’d been so diligent at keeping everything out.

  Rynna.

  Fucking Rynna.

  Little Thief.

  The second she’d stepped into my life, she’d turned everything upside down.

  A frown crossed Janel’s brow, hesitation thick, before she quietly spoke, “I didn’t know her well, but I knew her well enough to know she’s Corinne Dayne’s granddaughter. We didn’t run in the same circle, though. It just . . . caught me off guard that she’s here. I’m . . . I know I don’t have any right to be jealous, but I can’t help it. I thought when I came back we . . .” She
trailed off, her intentions hanging in the air like a thick shroud of dread.

  “Well, you thought wrong. You left us. You can’t come back and expect anything to be waiting for you.”

  “You know I couldn’t stay any longer. I was dying inside. You—”

  “Then what are you doing here?” My biting words cut her off.

  “I . . . I got help. A counselor who helped me see we just needed to work through our troubles. Courage to fight for it. For my family.”

  Fight for us?

  Mocking laughter rocked from my lungs. “You’re here to fight for us? To win me back?”

  “Yes.” She said it so simply. So easily. Like I should just let go of three years of hurt. Like I should just let go of Rynna.

  “It’s a little late for that.”

  “It’s never too late.” She reached out. Both hands circled around my wrist. “At least I need to see Frankie Leigh. I can’t go on without her, Rex. I have never been the same since I walked away from my child. Never have known a torture like the one I’ve been livin’. Please, I need to try to make it up to her. She needs to know her momma.”

  Agony crawled over my body.

  A devouring beast.

  Fangs sinking all the way to bone.

  How long did I pray for that? Beg and plead and cry out to the emptiness of the night? Nothing but a beggar on his knees, willing to give up anything for his daughter’s life to be whole. Fulfilled. For her to never feel an ounce of the betrayal that I’d worn around like a second skin.

  And there was her mom. Without my permission, my gaze moved back to the open door. To my kid. I’d always done what was best for her. Problem was, right then I had no clue what that was. What was right.

  “Not sure I can give you that kind of chance, Janel.”

  “She’s my daughter.”

  “Who you abandoned,” I bit out, voice muted so Frankie couldn’t hear.

  A sob tore from her. A loud, guttural moan. “I’m so sorry,” she whimpered. “So sorry. I’ll do anything to make it up to her. Anything. Please give me a chance. I just need to see my daughter.”

  33

  Rynna

  I stumbled into my house, drawing in big, sucking breaths. Trying to keep it together when I already knew that was impossible.

  Janel.

  Janel.

  Rex.

  Frankie.

  Oh God.

  Agony sliced through my being, cutting me in two. Clutching Milo to my chest, I tipped my head back toward the ceiling. Tears slicked down my face and dripped into my hair.

  Why?

  Why did life have to be so cruel? Fate twisted. Warped and perverted.

  I set Milo on his feet and frantically dug in my bag to find my phone. Uncontrollably, my hands shook when I tried to find Macy’s contact. Finally, I managed to push send. It rang twice before her groggy voice came onto the line. “Hello?”

  It was three hours earlier there. No doubt, I’d pulled her from sleep. But I needed her. Had no one else to turn to. Sorrow wrenched from me on panted, shattered cries. No words but the tumble of frenzied, horrified confusion that gripped my mind.

  “Ryn . . . is that you?” I could picture her shaking herself out of the haze of sleep. Panic surged into her voice. “Ryn, what’s wrong? Tell me what happened.”

  “She’s here.” It was a whimper.

  “Who?” she demanded before she caught on. Silence eclipsed the flood of worry that had been rolling from her mouth. “Shit,” she muttered. “Where’d you run into her?”

  “She’s . . .” I struggled to find the explanation, choking over the revulsion at even having to say it. “She’s Frankie’s mom.”

  A moan slipped from my tongue.

  “Oh God, Rynna . . . sweetheart . . . shit. I’m so sorry.”

  “I can’t believe it,” I whispered.

  Rex. The man I’d lost myself to.

  She’d belonged to him. I couldn’t stomach it. The picture of her touching him. Of him touching her.

  Sickness spun.

  Spun and spun and spun.

  Riding an agitator that fully wrung me out.

  “Does he know?”

  Grief constricted my chest. “No.” It was a wheeze. “I finally told him last night what’d happened. But he has no idea it was her.”

  That was when I hadn’t thought it would matter. When the name and face meant absolutely nothing because the only thing remaining had been the scars.

  Those scars had been ripped wide open.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know. She’s . . . she’s over there now, and I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m supposed to do. She’s her mother.”

  It dropped from me like a stone.

  Sorrow.

  Dejection.

  Regret.

  Janel was Frankie Leigh’s mother. That was a fact I couldn’t change. One I couldn’t stand in the way of, no matter how much I loved that little girl.

  “Ryn, I’m so sorry. Tell me what to do. How can I make this better?”

  “I don’t think there’s anything you can do.”

  “I can’t stand the idea of you clear across the country hurting and no one there to feed you gallons of ice cream.”

  I choked out a soggy laugh. “I wish you were here, too.”

  “If you need me, you know I’m on the first plane. You say the word, and I’m there.”

  “I know, thank you.”

  “Just . . . hold tight, Ryn. He’s probably as shocked as you are. See what comes of it. What he has to say.”

  I nodded. It was the only rational thing I could do.

  Wait.

  And I thought the waiting just might kill me.

  * * *

  Three hours later, I was at the diner. It turned out I couldn’t wait. Couldn’t sit idle while Janel was directly across the street with Rex and Frankie. Not when I couldn’t see through the walls or hear what they were saying.

  Torture. I couldn’t find another word to describe the turmoil that seethed within. Pulling and ripping and grinding. It felt as if I were being torn apart, rended by white-hot agony.

  So, I went to the one place I would find solace. I stood holding a sledgehammer in my hands, blinking into the dimness of the old restaurant as if I had any clue what to do with it.

  As if I could make a difference.

  A thick coat of dust had settled on the floor, and plastic sheets covered the booths that had been moved against one wall, waiting for the contractor who’d been hired to reupholster them. The old tabletops ripped out, the empty spaces waiting for new tables to be delivered.

  It was amazing what Rex’s men had already accomplished.

  It seemed almost a dream now. The excitement and hope I’d felt the last time I’d been in this very spot just a couple of days ago, envisioning its completion. The day I would finally be able to turn on the neon open sign I’d ordered. When customers would begin to pile in, eager for a taste of my grandmother’s legacy that would become my own.

  It shivered around me, a haunting reminder that these walls still held their secrets. My past an echo that had hit its end and came bounding right back.

  I turned toward the old counter, hands fisting around the wooden handle. At least it gave me something to hold on to.

  I froze when awareness struck me from behind.

  The door slowly creaked open. It was instant, the way the air thickened and the tension pulsed.

  It slammed the walls. Amplifying. Lifting. Increasing. Pulling and pulling and pulling.

  Gravity.

  I swore I could feel his wary footsteps tremor across the floor and climb my legs. That connection streaking free. Though this time in a frenzy.

  Slowly, I released the sledgehammer to the ground, turned around. The man had the power to reach right out and pluck the breath from me. My lungs heaved at the sight of him, and I whispered, “Rex.”

  “Rynna.” He shifted on his feet, an agitated ha
nd jerking at the longer pieces of his hair. He looked at the floor as if it might hold an answer, his tone low, laden with guilt. “God, Rynna . . . never in a million years would I have expected what we woke up to this morning. I’m so fucking sorry.”

  Lightheadedness spun, and I gulped for air, trying to focus. To see straight. To focus on what was most important. “Where’s Frankie?”

  He swallowed when he met my eye. “Took her to my mom’s. Didn’t want her in the middle of this. Not when I don’t have the first clue what the fuck I’m supposed to do.”

  “What does she want?” The question broke in desperation.

  What do you want?

  I wanted to ask it, but I was terrified. Terrified of the answer. Terrified of how this man made me feel. How he’d consumed me entirely. Everything that was mine, his.

  My body.

  My heart.

  My mind.

  Mouth trembling, he stared at me, expression distant, the man shaken from his own axis. “Frankie. Me. Fuck, I don’t know.”

  A strangled sob sprang from the depths of me, and I clutched my stomach. “And what do you want?”

  In a second flat, Rex rushed me. Those big hands were on my face, forcing me to look at him. “I want you. God, Rynna, I want you.”

  The relief was almost as fierce as the pain. As fierce as the stark grief that passed through his eyes. Eyes that swam with the deepest guilt. “Need to tell you something, Rynna.”

  I blinked at him. Strung up. My world hinging on what he might say.

  He squeezed his eyes closed, his expression pinching in regret. “I . . .”

  “What?” I begged.

  Shaking his head, he slightly angled it to the side and pulled me closer, as if he were pleading with me to understand. “She’s still my wife, Rynna.”

  My heart froze.

  Froze in horror. In disbelief.

  “What?” I begged again, but this time because I didn’t want the answer he’d given. I wanted him to tell me I’d misunderstood. That he didn’t mean what I’d heard.

  I struggled to break out of his hold, and he held me tighter. “I never signed the papers, Rynna. I’m so sorry. I should have told you. God, I should have told you.”

  Another rush of dizziness swept through me. This time it was so intense, it nearly knocked me from my feet. “You’re . . . still . . . married to her?” The last came off as an accusation.