Fight for Me: The Complete Collection

by Jackson, A. L.

  As I realized the magnitude of what had just happened.

  As I wondered if my telling them we were okay was just another lie because I wasn’t sure that we truly were.

  Dane had just given me ammunition to fight him. An attack that I’d been unprepared for.

  But did that even matter when he suspected, knew something was wrong with the records? I held Evan tighter against me as if that one touch might protect him from every danger.

  Still, I could feel it slipping away.

  Hope.

  An officer helped me to my feet, and I carried Evan to the couch, and I continued to hold him as tightly as I could while I answered the officers’ questions.

  What happened?

  Did anything occur to incite the attack?

  Were we injured?

  I saw it in their expressions when I told him it was my estranged husband.

  This was just another common domestic disturbance to them. The same kind of call they’d probably responded to a million times.

  Despair settled into the pit of my stomach when they said they would attempt to get in touch with Dane Gentry to get his side of the story.

  As if the fact he’d forced his way into my home weren’t enough.

  After an hour of answering their questions, I followed them to the door to let them out, every muscle in my body feeling as if it weighed a million pounds.

  The younger officer, the one who’d helped me stand from the floor, paused on the porch and turned back to look at me from over his shoulder, sympathy in the tight twist of his brow. “Make sure you have that door locked up, ma’am.”

  I gave him a slow nod and followed his instructions.

  Though, I wasn’t sure it would make a difference, anyway.

  Dane had become unstable. Volatile.

  And I still couldn’t understand why he would continue to press this.

  He’d gotten a free card.

  A pass.

  He could go on and live his life the easy way. Without being tied to Evan. Without being tied to me. He seemed almost desperate for me to return, and that same flare of warning that something was off lapped at my spirit.

  I edged back into the living room where my son sat on the couch with his arms wrapped around his knees.

  Rocking.

  My heart tremored in its confines, the loss and grief threatening to take me over. Drown me in despair.

  But I had to be strong.

  For my son.

  He’d always been my reason.

  What I’d been fighting for.

  “Come here, my sweet boy.”

  Gently, I scooped him into my arms, his weight reminding me he wasn’t so little anymore . . . that these were the things he would remember. Horrible things that would be etched and scraped into his consciousness.

  I wanted so desperately to protect him from that.

  Carrying him to his room, I pulled back his covers and nestled him in his bed.

  Getting to my knees, I leaned over him and brushed back his red, red hair.

  In silence, he stared up at me.

  Turmoil in his eyes. So much fear and so many questions I didn’t know how to answer brimming in their depths.

  I could feel pieces inside me dangling free. Coming apart.

  I signed.

  ARE YOU OKAY?

  His face pinched as if he was upset at me for asking it.

  ARE YOU OKAY? His movements were a frantic demand. Angry. As if he wanted to get up and defend me all over again.

  Pain clutched my heart, my soul. I swallowed hard, my own movements emphatic as I signed, praying their importance would get through.

  I AM OKAY. BUT IT MAKES ME SO SAD YOU SAW THAT. THAT YOU EXPERIENCED THAT. IT’S NOT RIGHT FOR THAT TO HAPPEN. NOT EVER.

  Tears streaked from the corners of his eyes, and Evan sat up in his bed, facing me.

  I HATE HIM, M-A-M-A. HE’S NOT ALLOWED HERE BECAUSE HE DOESN’T UNDERSTAND LOVE. YOU CAN ONLY BE HERE IF YOU LOVE. THAT’S THE RULE. REMEMBER WHEN WE CAME HERE? THIS HOUSE IS L-O-V-E.

  So upset, his hands flew through the air, his little breaths pants of exertion.

  My son.

  My beautiful, wonderful, insightful son.

  YOU’RE RIGHT. THIS HOUSE IS L-O-V-E. AND I’M DOING MY BEST TO PROTECT THAT. BUT YOU HAVE TO PROMISE ME YOU WON’T EVER STEP IN LIKE THAT AGAIN, EVAN. I KNOW YOU WANT TO HELP, BUT IT’S TOO DANGEROUS. IF SOMETHING IS SCARY OR BAD, I NEED YOU TO GO TO YOUR ROOM. LOCK THE DOOR. CALL THE POLICE.

  His head shook frantically. I HAVE TO TAKE CARE OF YOU.

  NO. NO, EVAN. THAT’S MY JOB. TO TAKE CARE OF YOU.

  A fresh round of tears blanketed his face, so much grief in his green, innocent eyes.

  BUT IF I DIE, WHO IS GOING TO TAKE CARE OF YOU? KALE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE HERE. WHERE WAS HE?

  Oh God.

  Crack.

  Crack.

  Crack.

  I could feel everything splintering. Breaking apart. I did everything to hold it together.

  YOU’RE NOT GOING TO DIE, EVAN. DON’T SAY THAT.

  Frustration and regret sped his signs.

  WHERE DID KALE GO?

  HE HAD TO GO HOME.

  The lies just kept coming and coming. But my lies had always been forged to protect my son. It didn’t matter how hard it was, how much I hurt, that wouldn’t change.

  Evan would always be my first priority.

  If it landed me behind bars or put me in the ground, he would always, always hold that spot.

  Evan’s face twisted, and a frown pulled at one side of his mouth. As if he were fighting more tears but was trying to remain strong.

  HE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE HERE. HE PROMISED WE WERE GOING TO READ SPIDERMAN. HE SHOULD HAVE BEEN HERE. I WANT HIM TO COME BACK.

  He hit his balled fists into his mattress at his sides, so much confusion and sadness in the action tears pricked at my eyes again.

  I wondered right then if I’d ever stop crying.

  Sorrow shivered through his room.

  A new kind of vacancy that had never been there before.

  Because Evan could see through it all. My boy always so insightful, clearly knowing Kale hadn’t just left, but had run.

  Reaching out, I held him by both sides of his face and met his eye. “I want him, too, Evan, but sometimes people are afraid of what they don’t understand.”

  BUT I’M HIS FAVORITE.

  His little hands moved like a plea. As if Kale’s rejection of him had been his biggest blow.

  And I ached. I ached so badly, and I knew my son did, too.

  That was the risk of bringing someone into our lives.

  Allowing them to complicate us more. We never knew what kind of mess they’d leave behind. But somewhere, somewhere I knew this was bigger than I understood.

  “You need to get some rest,” I mouthed, and Evan’s mouth pursed in reluctance before he relented and settled back against his pillows.

  I stayed with him the longest while, running my fingers through his hair as he just lay there, staring at me.

  Giving me his own kind of encouragement.

  This time, it was my son breathing belief into me.

  Time passed before I finally splayed my hand across the steady thrum in his chest.

  “My heart,” I whispered.

  He reached out and splayed his little hand over mine.

  My heart, he mouthed.

  And mine, it moaned, missing the piece that had blossomed and bloomed. The piece I’d freely given.

  Finally, when Evan had been asleep for a long while, I moved back out into the living room and sank to the edge of the couch, my phone in my hands.

  Zero pretension.

  Zero pride.

  I typed out a message and pressed send.

  Me: I need you.

  But when I crawled into bed to find a restless, tossing sleep, I’d gotten no response. And when the sun finally struck through the window, sending stakes of glittering light into my room, it still
remained unanswered.

  And I feared that piece I’d freely given was gone.

  Hope shattered.

  Maybe it was true what they said. Only fools held out faith.

  For the first time in my life, I wondered if that fool was me.

  28

  Kale

  Tender hands ran down my bare chest, and giggling lips pressed to my jaw. “Kale,” she whispered.

  “Melody,” I murmured back, rolling on top of her, pressing her to my bed. “Melody.”

  I stared down at her. Smiling at her trusting face, wondering how it was possible to feel this way.

  Her sweet, sweet face.

  It pinched in horror.

  In pain.

  Everything shifted, my room gone, cement under my feet.

  “Kale,” she begged from where she stood at her car across the lot, the sun blazing down on her from above. She dropped to her knees on the cold, pitted pavement and clutched her chest. “I need you.”

  Fear took me whole. Frantically, I ran across the lot and dropped to my knees at her side.

  Her eyes rolled back. “Melody!” I shouted.

  I searched for her pulse. For her breath.

  Screams echoed through the air.

  My shouts for help.

  “I won’t let this happen. I promise, I won’t let this happen.”

  I pressed my hands to her chest and began to pump.

  Compression after compression.

  Teeth grinding together, I worked over her, begging, “Don’t leave me. I won’t let you leave me.”

  I fought and the sun spun out of the sky.

  Darkness.

  The world canted and tipped from its axis.

  Everything shook.

  Evan’s face.

  His little, broken body beneath my hands.

  That fucking flat line.

  A scream. A plea. Hope on her knees. “I need you. I need you . . .”

  A roar ripping from my lungs jolted me upright in bed.

  Searching for nonexistent air, I gasped and panted, pretty sure the life was being squeezed out of me.

  My eyes darted around the shadowy darkness of my bedroom as the images faded.

  My skin drenched in sweat, and my heart beating like a motherfucking drum.

  My shoulders dropped when I realized I was alone. That it was just another dream.

  Which should have been a comfort, but the awareness of it just sent grief swooping down, shackling me in its chains.

  “Fuck,” I gritted.

  Hand fumbling through the dark, I reached over to flick on the lamp on my nightstand. The muted light broke through the night, and I pushed to sit up at the edge of my bed. The movement sent a wave of nausea crashing over me, sucking me down, taking me under.

  Lost in the deepest, darkest sea where voices pleaded and moaned and begged.

  I need you.

  I need you.

  I need you.

  I knew I was losing it. Coming unglued. Standing at the edge of a cliff and getting ready to fall over the side into that abyss of nothingness.

  Where I’d drown in dreams and torment and screams.

  I’d never known a loss like the one I was prisoner to right then.

  Losing them.

  Hope and Evan.

  But at least I’d gotten out before I could cause them more damage or pain. Because God knew, that was all I knew how to inflict. That didn’t mean I didn’t fight myself every second of every day not to go back to them. To ask for a fucked-up sort of forgiveness that I would never deserve.

  If Hope knew what I’d done, the way I’d failed, she’d never look at me the same.

  Hell, I knew it’d haunt her the same way that fucking text that had come in just after midnight nine days ago haunted me.

  I need you.

  I’d nearly succumbed. Broken down and crawling back on my hands and knees like a beggar, groveling, trying to find any excuse in my mind that would make it okay to be with them.

  But I sucked it up. Refused the urges and the need and the sorrow.

  Because I was staying away for them.

  I need you.

  Drawn, my eyes peeled open, and my already choppy breaths turned ragged.

  By instinct, I reached for the sheet of folded paper sitting on my nightstand, my hand shaking like a bitch and my stomach threatening to spill onto the floor.

  I’d found it sitting on the backseat of my car. I’d wanted to think it discarded. Nothing of importance, but I knew the kid had left it there for me.

  A message.

  Tonight, I unfolded it for what had to be the millionth time because I couldn’t help but torture myself a little more.

  My chest tightened when I stared down at the drawing.

  A fucking fantastic rendition because the kid was amazing. Clever and talented and smart.

  Captain America and a tiny Hulk were holding hands.

  My eyes traced what was written at the bottom in the same handwriting I’d come to know so well. Words I heard like a voice.

  My favorite.

  Regret drove into me like a blunt, rusted knife.

  Gutting.

  A remnant of Melody’s voice clashed with the power of Hope’s.

  I need you.

  I was a goner.

  So fucking gone.

  And there was no finding my way back.

  * * *

  Every time I’d driven passed A Drop of Hope over the last nine days, I’d gunned my engine and sped by. Refusing to look that way because it brought on more memories and regrets than I knew how to deal with.

  But this morning . . .

  This morning there was nothing I could do but slow and look that way. Because everything felt different.

  An awareness that thundered my heart and twisted my guts in a million knots of need.

  My spirit thrashed and screamed.

  Because I caught sight of the girl for the first time since I’d left her broken in her kitchen.

  Body lush, Hope wearing one of those dresses that drove me out of my mind, the best goddamned thing I’d ever seen.

  Considering the fact I was sure my sanity was slipping, I thought for a second I had to be hallucinating.

  But there she was. Leaning over and reaching into the back of her SUV to pull out a supply box. That red, red hair whipped around her delicate shoulders when she quickly spun around.

  Like she felt me the same way I felt her.

  Our eyes locked through the windshield.

  The world freezing.

  Time suspended.

  The two of us lost to a place that belonged only to us.

  Grief lined every inch of her unforgettable face, and there was a weight in her eyes that I hadn’t ever seen there before.

  I could almost hear the plea in the soft part of her full, full lips.

  I need you.

  Every cell in my body reacted.

  Want.

  Need.

  Regret.

  Shame.

  The last snapped me back into reality, and I ripped my eyes away from her and floored the accelerator. The coward who had to get away.

  * * *

  It was time.

  The way I’d reacted when I’d seen Hope that morning was clear proof of that.

  I’d gone astray.

  Gotten distracted.

  I was pretty sure the second I’d realized Evan was Hope’s child, I’d known.

  Fate warning me to watch my step. Telling me it’d do me well to take one back.

  And I’d just run forward. Careless.

  Reckless.

  Selfish.

  Pushing and pushing for something I wanted, but knew, in the end, I couldn’t keep.

  The workday had passed in a daze. Every second had been a struggle to focus. A fucking herculean feat to pass out those damned lollipops like every single one of them didn’t nearly drop me to my knees.

  I finished with my last patient and stumbled into my office.<
br />
  I sank down at my desk in front of my laptop.

  I had to take care of this.

  It’d been a constant nag at the back of my brain. Problem was, it’d been met with so much resistance from my heart and spirit that I’d been avoiding it like the goddamned plague.

  Maybe I’d been holding out, thinking I might discover the cure before this feeling became a sickness.

  Because that was what I felt.

  Sick.

  Taking this final step.

  Snipping the last thread that tied us together.

  I’d already spoken with Dr. Acosta about taking over Evan’s care. I’d told her there was a conflict of interest, and I’d be more comfortable with her seeing him for his general visits.

  The whole time I’d felt like I’d been committing a betrayal. Not because I couldn’t be there for him as his physician. But because I couldn’t be there for him at all.

  I need you.

  My chest squeezed when that voice hit me.

  I tamped it down and clicked into his chart so I could write up my final notes on his care and transfer them over. That and send Hope the anonymous note that would let her know her son had the same heart defect that his aunt did, even though I couldn’t dig deep enough to find the exact records that would confirm it.

  Records that should have been there lost.

  Purged or hidden.

  I didn’t know.

  Either way, Hope would finally know.

  At least I could give her this.

  His chart popped up.

  Evan Quinn Masterson.

  A shudder rolled through me.

  Unease.

  A shrinking awareness.

  Something was just intrinsically . . . off.

  I’d been feeling it for days, a disturbance that flamed and lapped on the fringes of my consciousness. No doubt, part of it was the guilt over just walking out of their lives without giving a reason or explanation.

  The guilt that I’d left them thinking it might somehow be their fault when I knew I had to protect them from this. But there was something else. Something just out of my reach.

  A light knocking tapped at my door, and my nurse popped her head inside. “I have those reports you were asking for. There is a reprint from two weeks ago that showed it’d been sent from the lab, but I didn’t see it come across my desk.”