Fight for Me: The Complete Collection

by Jackson, A. L.

  Hope howled.

  Dropped to her knees.

  The space echoed with her anguished, jutting cries. Horror after horror. “The money. Oh God, the money.”

  Hope clutched her chest. “It was all about the money, wasn’t it? You bastard . . . you bastard, you were gonna let your own son—your own flesh and blood—die over money? That goddamned inheritance? All that talk about your father’s prestigious bloodline? It had to remain that way, didn’t it? Prestigious and perfect. Without blemish? That’s what your grandfather meant? You need a healthy son so you could get your fucking inheritance.”

  Dane’s voice turned almost pleading, the bastard a believer in his own fucked-up, twisted way. “I told you, we could try again.”

  Hate blistered through my senses.

  “You changed his name on his records. You tried to hide his medical records from me.” Disgust lined Dane’s voice.

  Her head shook, lips trembling with the words. “You think I regret that? I’d do it again . . . over and over again . . . no matter what it cost me, so long as it protected him from you.”

  A sound left Hope.

  One of sickened realization.

  “Oh, God, you wanted me back because you needed me to have another child. So you could pin the genetic defect on me if you had another child with it?”

  Dane’s lips pursed.

  So goddamned guilty.

  But the bastard wouldn’t admit it, he only grated, “You’ll regret this, Harley,” when I jerked him up by the shirt and slammed him down again.

  Footsteps pounded around us. It wasn’t until then that I realized we were ringed by nurses and bystanders.

  Gaping, horrified eyes watched us from the perimeter.

  Three security guards and a police officer had busted through the circle and were descending on us.

  “Release him,” the officer shouted at me, his gun drawn.

  I was ripped up from behind.

  Arms locked behind my back.

  “Let me go,” I raged, fighting as the cuffs were locked in place. I needed to get to him. To make sure he could never keep that promise.

  End the threat for Hope and Evan once and for all.

  Give them something when I could never be enough.

  Dane was being hauled up, his knees buckling beneath him when his arms were twisted behind his back. “Twenty-million dollars, Hope. You’re willing to let twenty-million dollars go?”

  A roar blew from my lungs at his statement.

  He said it as if she were the deranged one.

  Because the piece of shit couldn’t see through his black soul.

  Melody.

  I gasped over a breath when I realized what it all meant. What they’d been trying to hide.

  Hope’s face was twisted in the most shocking kind of grief as she climbed to her feet. Her milky flesh illuminated in the lights, glistening with tears.

  She took a step toward him.

  Red hair flying all around her.

  So goddamned strong in her vulnerability.

  Her chin trembled, and the words flooded from her mouth. “There was a day I believed in you, Dane. A day when I loved you. A day when I looked at you and I saw the future I wanted.”

  Her face pinched. “And all you saw was money?”

  She blinked, trying to process the blow, before she swallowed hard, gathering herself. “I swear to you, if you so much as think about my son, I will make sure every last person in this world knows who you are and what you did. I will expose you and your disgusting family. I will ruin you, the way you have tried to ruin us.”

  She took another step toward him.

  The girl always standing for what she believed in.

  Faith radiating from her.

  So damned bright.

  “But we are not ruined. Not even close. When my son comes out of surgery, because he will—I know he will—I will have documents from your attorney relinquishing your parental rights. You will never have a say in his life, or in my life, ever again. Do you understand me?”

  His voice was a growl. “You’re a fool, Harley.”

  Mouth trembling, she shook her head. “No, Dane. You are the fool. You were so blinded by greed that you never saw the treasure you already held. The abundant life you could have been given. You are destitute, and I am the one who is rich.”

  The officer and guards began to haul us toward the entrance doors.

  Anger ripped from Dane’s chest, and his head jerked back as they dragged him away. “You will pay for this, Harley. You fucked over the wrong person. You won’t forget who I am.”

  Just before they pulled me through the double doors, I twisted to look at Hope.

  Those eyes met mine.

  A mossy, earthy plane. Real and good and genuine.

  The best thing I’d ever seen.

  In that second, I wanted to promise her a million things.

  That Evan would be fine.

  That I would protect her.

  That she would never hurt again.

  Tell her I was so goddamned sorry. That I didn’t know. That I would have stopped it if I could have.

  That I’d be her hero.

  But that just wasn’t possible.

  Not when I’d already destroyed everything.

  31

  Kale

  I found her in the deserted chapel. Cast in shadows, the quiet space was illuminated only by the candles that had been lit and remained flickering through the deepest hours of the darkest night.

  She was in the very front. On her knees. Red hair all around her where she had her head bowed forward.

  That sweet body was shuddering and heaving with silent, wracking sobs.

  I wondered if any distance could come between us when I might not be able to hear it.

  Because I’d heard her through those six excruciating hours it’d taken to be released from the small city jail. My charges dropped, my assault labeled defense of a patient.

  The whole time I’d felt like I was losing my mind because I’d heard it in my ear. Heard it in my heart.

  I’d heard it through time and space and miles.

  Her grief thick and profound.

  Ingrained in me.

  Marked in me.

  I took another step forward.

  Energy raced across the floor.

  Saw it the second it slammed into her from behind. The way her spine jerked in awareness and that feeling rushed out in front of me.

  Thick and heavy.

  I took another tentative step forward. I might as well have been wading through quicksand, my steps laboring and heavy and slowed.

  Going nowhere.

  Or maybe I was just wading through honey.

  Sweet, sweet heat.

  I took another step down the middle aisle, and she jarred forward, bracing her hand on the floor in front of her as she gasped for a breath.

  Swore, the flames on the candles shivered where they licked.

  Two feet behind her, I came to a stop.

  “Hope.” Her name was a tortured murmur.

  She choked, and all I wanted was to wrap her up. Hold her and make her all the promises I’d wanted to make all along. Knowing if it did, they would only be lies.

  She rose on her knees, her hands flattened to her chest like that action was the only thing keeping her from completely falling apart. “It hurts so bad, Kale. So bad.”

  My throat was clogged, so goddamned tight and thick I could barely speak. “I should have recognized it. Seen it all along. It’s my fault.”

  “No.” It left her on a harrowed breath.

  “Yes. I should have seen it. Just like I should have seen it in Melody. But I was too caught up, Hope, too caught up in what I felt for you.”

  Because of it, I’d done exactly what I’d promised myself I’d never do again.

  I’d failed.

  Old grief slammed me so hard that I rocked forward. Unable to stand beneath it, I sank down onto the front pew off to the side o
f her, elbows on my knees as I leaned forward, my face in my hands.

  I could feel her peering over at me. Could feel the weight of her unwavering gaze. “You were there when we needed you most. You came back. Right when we needed you.”

  Bile swam. “It never should have come to that. I should have caught it the first time he came into my office. Instead, I spent the whole time thinking of touching you.”

  Wanting her.

  Wishing for things I couldn’t have.

  I could sense her shifting on her knees, turning to face my direction. Disbelief oozed out on her words. “You’re really gonna sit there and make that claim? After everything we shared? After the way you treated him? Like he was somethin’ rather than nothin’? Like he might be your world the way you became ours?”

  Grief stalked my throat, burning and choking. “I wanted to save him, Hope. I would have given anything. And now he’s—”

  Barely clinging to life.

  I bit down on the words. Unable to even say them even though we both knew exactly what I’d meant.

  He was barely clinging to life.

  I’d gone straight to the ICU when I’d been released. Dr. Krane had just been leaving when I’d walked in. His expression had been . . . grim.

  Worse than grim.

  He’d touched my arm and promised me he’d done everything he possibly could. He hadn’t filled me in like Evan was just another of my patients. His tone had been cautious, filled with sympathy I actually knew the guy truly felt, the jargon slim.

  But I knew well enough what lay in his words and Evan’s chart.

  Evan had little chance of making it through the night.

  A panicked regret swelled, constricting and suffocating. I couldn’t breathe. “I tried.”

  I’d tried to save him.

  Had tried to save Melody.

  And it wasn’t enough.

  It wasn’t enough.

  I would never, ever be enough.

  Her soggy plea filled the air. “Don’t you dare give up on hope, Kale Bryant. Don’t you dare. Not when we’re finally free.”

  I forced myself to look up at her.

  At this girl who had changed everything.

  Green eyes and red hair and dimpled chin striking in the glow of the candles that sent shadows flickering across her gorgeous, unforgettable face.

  The best thing I’d ever seen.

  And that spark in the deepest part of me, the one she’d ignited, lapped and danced and begged.

  I forced myself to stand, my smile weak. “I think you have enough faith for the both of us, sweet girl.”

  I’d no longer be the one who threatened it.

  I swallowed around the misery. “No matter what happens . . . don’t ever lose that. Don’t ever give up on hope. It’s the brightest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  I turned on my heel and started up the aisle.

  I could feel her pushing to standing, her presence powerful as it slammed into me from behind, her words choked and rasping, “Don’t you dare, Kale Bryant. You promised me.”

  I kept walking.

  “I need you.”

  I need you. I need you. I need you.

  Melody’s voice twined with Hopes.

  Torment.

  Torture.

  Agony.

  I came to a standstill, breaths panting from my lungs.

  “Who is it you’re running from Kale? What are you afraid of? That the girl you loved was Evan’s aunt? Their hearts? Or are you just afraid of lovin’ me?”

  I tried to stand upright under the crushing weight of the grief that surged and raged and slammed.

  I forced myself to look at her from over my shoulder. “I’m afraid of what I’ve been afraid of all along. That I would never be enough. That I was chasing after something I couldn’t have.”

  Seeing the heartbreak wash over her face, I turned back around and rushed for the door.

  Needing to get out of there before I fell at her feet.

  Before I begged her to let me try to be that guy I’d been pretending to be all along.

  But that guy had only hurt her. Fucked up time and again.

  I squeezed my eyes closed when her voice pierced me from behind. “The only way you can fail me is by walking away.”

  Grief clutched me in its fiery hold. Incinerating. Blistering.

  Ash.

  When I tore the door open to escape, I knew that was all that was left of me.

  32

  Hope

  I’d always wondered how many broken hearts one person could endure.

  Broken hearts meted out by unexpected tragedy.

  Broken hearts delivered by the ones who were supposed to love them most.

  True, physical broken hearts that struggled to continue to beat, marred by fate and health and genetic abnormalities.

  Sometimes, I felt as if I could endure no more.

  Kale had . . . crushed me.

  I’d allowed myself to love him so freely. Love him so easily. Because I saw so much greatness in him. So much kindness in his giving, bleeding heart.

  Maybe his heart had been broken one too many times, and he knew he could take no more.

  I guessed I’d been right all along.

  Had seen it coming the night he’d strode across the bar and slid into the stool next to me.

  He’d looked like discord.

  Chaos with an easy, arrogant smile.

  A perfect, controlled disorder.

  Just as I thought, the man had looked like a broken heart.

  I sat next to my son—my life—in the darkened room where he lay in the middle of the elevated bed. Lights dimmed in the space. He was connected to a million tubes and wires, face covered in tape the same way he’d been as a tiny infant, the machine he was connected to inflating his chest as it pumped life into him.

  Where his tiny body fought and fought and fought to conquer another broken heart.

  And I knew sitting there, I would endure a million more broken hearts for him.

  With him.

  I jerked when I felt the presence behind me. I swiveled to look over my shoulder.

  Dr. Krane stood there with a cautious smile on his face. “You’re still here.”

  I almost laughed. “I’m not sure you could drag me out if you tried.”

  Four days.

  That was how many days I’d been sitting in this spot, my mama and Jenna bringing me my meals. Keeping me company while I fought the gnawing that ate me from the inside out. Renewing my energy so I could in turn give it to Evan.

  They hadn’t expected him to make it through that first night.

  I’d seen what was written in Dr. Krane’s eyes when he’d come to me after the surgery to give me an update, and then I’d gone straight to the chapel.

  I’d dropped to my knees and issued up unending prayers.

  I’d given all my belief.

  Had fallen on my faith.

  My heart had always been hung on hope, and I sure wasn’t about to give up then. Not ever.

  “How is our little fighter today?” Dr. Krane asked.

  Tears blurred my eyes. “Maybe I’m just being hopeful . . . but there’s something different today. Like I can feel that he’s closer. Like his little spirit is right here with me.”

  Dr. Krane took another step forward. “Don’t sell yourself short. I think you know this little guy better than anyone, Ms. Masterson.”

  He hesitated for only a moment before he angled his attention my way. “I’d like to recommend that we start testing weaning him off the ventilator tomorrow morning. He seems to be gaining strength, and the last blood tests were stabilizing.”

  I couldn’t tell if it was fear or relief that slammed me at his words.

  My hope had never been cautious.

  But today it was overwhelming.

  A landslide of sensation. Because I’d been whittled raw.

  Hurt in so many ways I had no idea if I’d ever heal.

  My worry for this li
ttle boy, who radiated the biggest, brightest life, even from the depths of the coma he remained in, held there by medicines to give his broken body a better chance to rest and recover.

  Not to mention, I was still reeling from what I’d learned, that Dane’s sister had had the very heart defect Evan had.

  I’d never met her. Dane and I had just married when she died, our courtship quick, a whirlwind I’d believed an intense kind of love. He’d said she was killed in an accident in another state and insisted I not attend the funeral. He’d claimed he’d needed his space to grieve, which I’d been confused by, but I’d respected it.

  I’d just had no idea he had been pulling a veil over my eyes. Lying and lying and lying from the start.

  Yesterday, I’d received the documents I’d demanded. Dane relinquishing his parental rights. Of course, it’d come with the stipulation that if I ever disclosed any information I had on his family, Dane would pursue charges of my falsification of Evan’s medical records, the man vile enough to hold the threat of jail time over my head in order to protect himself.

  But the truth of the matter was that I was willing to submit to that provision. Let it go, even though it felt as if I were doing Melody a disservice.

  Melody.

  My heart broke for her. For the greed that had kept her in the dark. Stolen her life. It broke for the man who had loved her and tried to save her and somehow had taken the burden that belonged to the Gentry name and placed it on his own shoulders where it never had belonged.

  Then those pieces of my broken heart had been crushed when he’d left me. Because he couldn’t stay through the grief. Because he couldn’t bear any more. Because I’d fallen so hard and I no longer could picture my life without him in it.

  But I’d bleed forever if it meant my son would be okay.

  “We’ll be monitoring him closely,” Dr. Krane assured me. “At the first sign of distress, we’ll increase him back until we know his heart is ready to beat on its own.”

  I twisted my fingers on my lap. Almost painfully as I looked at my son.

  My heart.

  I peeked up at Dr. Krane, the words laden with a plea. “And what do we do if that time never comes? What if he’s never ready?”

  Sympathy edged across his stoic features. “Then he’ll have to go back on the transplant list. But we can cross that bridge when we get to it. Right now, let’s cling to the fact he’s doing so much better than we ever could have imagined. Could have hoped for. He is a true miracle, Ms. Masterson. I’m hopeful for a full recovery.”