The Gritty Truth

by Melissa Foster

  “I’m sorry,” Quincy said, holding her tight. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

  She held him tighter, unable to speak through her sobs, anger, sadness, and confusion. She needed this—to be in his arms, to see that he was alive. His scruff scratched her cheek as he kissed it, and the familiar feel drove her heartache deeper. She clung to him until she got a handle on her sobs, at least mostly. She pushed free from his grip, holding his arms, but the tears in his eyes slayed her.

  “You almost died.”

  His jaw clenched. “I’m sorry, beautiful. I promise, I did not use those drugs.”

  “I want to believe that, and I don’t believe you would, but I’ve read all about denial, so don’t play me for a fool.” Tears spilled from her eyes. “That hurts too much.”

  “I’m not. Simone’s ex, Puck, injected me with them.”

  The air rushed from her lungs, tears flooding her eyes again.

  “It’s true, baby. He tried to kill me in order to send a message to the club.”

  “Oh my God.” She hugged him again, crying harder. “I knew you wouldn’t use them! Is that why the police are here? Can they arrest him?” She realized he wasn’t embracing her. His body was rigid. She leaned back, searching his anguished eyes. “What’s wrong? Oh God, did they hurt Simone? Where is she? Did they kill her?”

  “No, baby, she’s safe.”

  She swiped at her eyes. “Then why aren’t you hugging me?”

  He lowered his eyes, the muscles in his jaw bunching. “I’m going back to rehab, Roni. Starting from ground zero again. I’ll need to work the program when I get out, and you don’t need my shit in your life.”

  Sobs burst from her lungs.

  “You can move back to your place, move on with someone who doesn’t—”

  “Shut up!” she seethed. “You shut your mouth right now, Quincy Gritt. I am not quitting on you, and you are not pushing me away because of some convoluted honorable idea in your head. You are my other half, and you love me. I know you do, so if we need to go to NA meetings seven days a week, or twice a day every day, then that’s what we’ll do. But you are not alone in this, and you are not getting rid of me that easily.”

  Tears spilled from his eyes. “But, Roni—”

  “No!” She wedged herself between his legs and took his face in her hands. “No, Quincy. No buts. Yours is the face I see in my future, and I know you want that, too. Two kids and a puppy. I don’t care if we’re back to square one. You didn’t do this to yourself, and you’re not throwing away our future because of it. Our five-year plan starts now, like it or not.”

  His strong arms circled her, crushing her to him. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” she said, their hearts hammering frantically. “Please don’t say you don’t want us again. Please.”

  “I’ll always want you, Roni.” He took her by the arms and pulled back, agony billowing off him. “But there’s more.”

  “Whatever it is, we can handle it.”

  “I’m not so sure. Your accident, it happened September nineteenth, right?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  His jaw tightened again. “Puck admitted to firing the bullet that killed the driver of the car that hit you.”

  “Ohmygod.” Roni covered her mouth, more emotions swamping her. They finally found the person responsible for the accident. “Is that why the police were asking to see you?”

  He nodded, swallowing hard, and let go of her arms. “Remember I said that I owed Puck money, and when his guys found me and dragged me back to him, I got away?”

  “Yes…?”

  Tears poured from his eyes. “The bullet that hit the driver was meant for me. I didn’t know. I promise, I didn’t know. Puck told me when he was roughing me up, and the timing makes sense. The police verified it. If I hadn’t been there that day, if I hadn’t run, you’d still be dancing professionally.”

  His words knocked the wind out of her, and she stumbled back, hand on her chest. The room careened, making her sway. She stared at a speck on the floor, trying to ground herself, but her head was spinning, and her heart felt like it was shredding. They were shooting at Quincy.

  “You lost everything because of me, baby,” he said regretfully. “There is no apology big enough to make up for that.”

  The bullet was meant for you. She could barely hear past the blood rushing through her ears. “But you’d be dead,” she said more to herself than to him. She lifted her eyes to his, the world coming back into focus. “That bullet was meant for you. If you hadn’t run, you’d be dead.”

  “And you’d have the life you always wanted.”

  There were no tears stinging her eyes, only vehemence burning her chest, emboldening her. “The life I wanted then, not the life I want now. Not after meeting you.”

  “Baby, I saw the pictures of the hell you went through because of me. How can you even look at me without hating me?”

  “I love you too much to ever hate you.” She stepped between his legs and picked up his arms, moving them roughly around her. “You didn’t pull that trigger, and you weren’t driving that car. We are meant to be together, Quincy Gritt, and if you don’t want that because you don’t love me, then tell me right now, to my face. Don’t hide behind all the stuff that was thrown into our paths and redirected us, because those paths brought us together, and they cannot be changed. We can’t look back. We can only look forward. I never would have known that I wanted two babies and a dog and a recovering addict with a heart so goddamn big, he’s willing to throw the woman he loves away in order to save her from hurting any more. Well, I have news for you, Mr. Heart of Gold. You have brought me more happiness and given me more love in the last seven months than I could have ever hoped for, and I am prepared to not only stand by your side but to walk through fire with you today, next week, and years from now. So do you love me enough to work through whatever guilt you feel together, or do you need me to walk aw—”

  Her words were lost to the urgent press of his lips and the tight squeeze of his arms. “I love you,” he said between desperate kisses and salty tears. “I want you, baby.”

  She pushed her hands into his hair, kissing him harder, and then she tore her mouth away and said, “If you ever ask me to walk away again, I swear I’ll knock your teeth out.”

  He laughed, which made her laugh, and their mouths came together in a softer, more loving kiss, their salty tears slipping between their lips in a kiss full of apologies for the past, gratitude and hope for the future, and love so big and real, nothing could ever come between them.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  FIVE DAYS CLEAN. Let’s make it six was Quincy’s first thought as he awoke.

  He’d had the same thought every morning since entering rehab, changing only the number of days. One day at a time. Just as he had each of the other mornings, he lay with his eyes closed, thinking of all of his reasons to stay clean. He was on top of that list, because if he couldn’t for himself, there was no way he could do it for anyone else. That was the only reason he came before his remarkable girl. Memories of their first date sailed through his mind. He’d never forget the astonished look on her face through the glass door when he’d appeared. Her nervousness had endeared her to him even more than everything else about her already had. Roasting marshmallows, joking around, and those sinful kisses played like a movie, followed by her exuberance at the scavenger hunt and her mesmerizing dancing. But nothing beat her trust and acceptance the day she’d showed up at the NA meeting and the support she had given him every day since, except maybe the love in her eyes every time they’d made love. He could still hear her laughter when they’d gone sledding at Helms Tree Farm and recall the fun they’d had while picking out their tree. His chest constricted with memories of hanging ornaments on their Christmas tree and that sexy ribbon outfit she’d worn to seduce him. He knew better than to mentally unwrap that ribbon when it would be another twenty-four days until he saw her.

  He shifted his th
oughts to his other reasons to stay clean: Truman, Gemma, the kids, and all of their friends, making it a little easier to push away the urges to use drugs again, though easier was a relative term.

  After visualizing every one of his friends and family members, he remembered it was Christmas, and sadness tiptoed in. He could feel his sensitive girl thinking about him, probably wearing one of his T-shirts and sleeping on his side of the bed.

  He lingered on that thought.

  His side of the bed. Her side of the bed.

  Twenty-four more days.

  The longing for her had become a dull ache in his chest, his constant companion. At least he knew Roni wouldn’t be alone today. Before Truman had dropped him off at rehab, she’d gone with him to see the kids so he could say goodbye. His heart had broken, but he hadn’t lied to them. He’d never lie to them. He’d told them that Uncle Quincy needed a little help and would be gone for a while, but that he loved them and would think about them every day, and before they knew it, he’d be back to play and go on special dates. Roni had said she was still going to Truman and Gemma’s house on Christmas to represent both of them, which made him love her even more. He hadn’t thought that was possible. But he was learning that his love for her was as unstoppable as her endless love for him.

  He opened his eyes, finally ready to greet day six, and inhaled deeply as he threw his legs over the side of the bed. He stared at his bare feet, a memory of sitting on the couch with Roni whispering through his mind. They’d been leaning against opposite sides, playing footsies as she’d read and he’d studied. She’d flashed that brilliant smile, and it had lit up her beautiful hazel eyes behind her sexy glasses as she’d said, This is another first. I’ve never played footsies before. We’re going to fill our lives with firsts and forevers.

  He inhaled deeply, wishing they could play footsies now, and glanced at the clock on the bedside table. There was a wrapped gift beside it that hadn’t been there last night. He picked it up and opened the card, recognizing Roni’s swirly handwriting. His pulse sped up as he began reading.

  Merry Christmas! You can imagine how excited I was to hear that Biggs had arranged for this to be delivered to you. I swear that man has connections everywhere. I hope you like the present. They’ve been on my mind since you told me about them. You’ll see what I mean when you open the gift. You must have given everyone a mandate to take care of me (I love you so much for doing that!), because in the last five days I’ve had more dinner invitations than I could possibly accept. I don’t feel much like being with other people, but I went to someone’s house every evening because I knew you’d want me to. When I went to Biggs and Red’s house, everyone showed up. It was like Thanksgiving all over again, except somber, because you were so sorely missed. You should know they did their best to cheer me up. Angela has been texting me video messages and pretending to be you. They’re really funny. I’ll show you when you get home.

  I miss you every minute of every day, but I’m SO proud of you, Quincy. You are the strongest, bravest person I know, and I am so lucky to share my life with you.

  Tears burned his eyes. She was the strongest and bravest, and he was the lucky one.

  I sleep in your shirts, and I dream about you every night. I swear when I wake up, I can feel you thinking of me as I am of you. I love you, Quincy, today, tomorrow, and always.

  Forever your beautiful, Roni

  Quincy wiped his eyes and cleared his throat to try to ease the tightening of it. How the hell did he get lucky enough to be with her? That was an answer he’d never receive, but he’d spend his life showing her just how much he adored her. He smelled the card, catching a hint of Roni. Maybe he imagined it, and if so, he didn’t care. He felt her all around him.

  He set the card upright on the nightstand so he could see it when he went to bed and picked up the package, sending a silent thank-you out to Biggs as he opened it.

  Inside was a shirt box, and when he removed the top, he found a white wire-bound book with QUINCY’S CHRISTMAS MEMORIES printed in red script across the middle with garland and holly beneath it. He took it out of the box and opened the cover, his heart constricting at the sight of the first drawing Truman had ever left by his bed. Tears welled anew as he took in the picture of Truman’s face on a bird’s body, soaring through the sky with Quincy as a little boy riding on his back. Below the picture was the story Truman had told him about how he wished he could fly them away to someplace where drugs didn’t exist. Quincy inhaled a ragged breath as he turned the page, met with another of the pictures he’d lost, one of the rose gardens, and another story he’d never forgotten. For the next half hour, he marveled at pictures and stories from the past he wished he could forget, and at the same time, he never wanted to let go of the moments behind each of the images in the book.

  When he came to the last page, his heart filled up, and laughter tumbled out. Truman had drawn a picture of Roni sitting on Quincy’s shoulders. He was holding the trunk of the tree near the top with one hand as she placed the star on it, and in his other hand was his phone as he took a selfie of them. Below the picture the caption read Our first perfect Christmas tree. Beside them were two connected red hearts. The heart on the left had Roni written inside it. In the connected space between the two hearts, loves was written vertically, and inside the right heart was Quincy, all three words written in black in Roni’s swirly handwriting.

  He swiped at his tears, and then he lay back on the bed to take a second look through the most glorious Christmas gift he’d ever been given.

  RONI SAT ON the couch sipping a warm mug of hot chocolate, staring absently at the lights on the Christmas tree and the gifts beneath it, wishing Quincy were there. And then the guilt rolled in for having that selfish thought when he was doing something far more important for them. She tried to push that guilt away, hoping the present she’d dropped off yesterday had brightened his morning. Truman had worked hard for the last few weeks on those pictures, and she’d wanted to see Quincy’s face when he opened the gift. But she was sure he needed to see them now even more.

  This was supposed to be his special Christmas, filled with nothing but good memories and firsts. She was glad he was taking care of himself and putting his recovery above all else, but that didn’t stop her from missing him more than she’d ever missed anyone or anything in her life. Even more than she’d missed dancing after the accident. Unfortunately, missing Quincy brought an onslaught of other emotions. Uglier emotions she’d been trying to hide from everyone else, even Penny, whom she’d been talking with daily because she was as worried about Quincy as Roni was. Talking about the things they missed about him and their hopes and fears about his recovery had created a sisterly bond Roni was thankful for. But she kept the harsher feelings to herself because Penny and everyone else had enough on their plates worrying about Quincy, trying to make sure Roni was okay, and making arrangements for Simone to go to Redemption Ranch in Colorado, which, thankfully, Simone had finally agreed to. Roni could tell Elisa and Angela about the feelings she was hiding, but she didn’t want to worry them any more than she already had, either. They had been wonderfully supportive. Elisa had even told her to take some time off, which Roni didn’t do. The last thing she needed was more time alone.

  When she was alone, those harsher emotions trampled in—sadness, anger, and hatred—and the ugliest of them were aimed at Patrick “Puck” Fulton. When the detective had questioned her, it had dredged up the fear and pain of her accident. It was still haunting her. Late at night she’d hear the screeching tires and feel the pain of the impact and the devastation of losing everything she’d worked for. It drove her hatred for Puck even deeper. She hated him for so many reasons. Nearly killing Quincy and stealing two years of his recovery were at the top of that list, but it didn’t stop there. He’d killed an innocent man, stolen away the career she’d worked so hard for, and disrupted the life she and Quincy were building, and she was livid at him for making Quincy feel guilty for something he didn
’t do. Thankfully, she’d learned that when the police had raided Puck’s home and car, they’d matched ballistics from one of his many guns to the bullet that had killed the driver of the car that had hit her. They’d also found Quincy’s DNA. Between that and the audio Quincy had gotten of Puck kidnapping Quincy, shooting him up with heroin with the intention of killing him, and bragging about killing the driver of the car that had hit Roni, the police had enough evidence to prosecute, and hopefully put him away for a very long time. That gave her a modicum of relief, but not enough to diminish the hateful anger that was eating her alive.

  She’d never been good at harboring negative emotions, and she needed to find a way to deal with or get rid of them. She had no idea how to do that because there was no way in hell she’d forgive that monster.

  The only thing she knew for sure these days was that she’d been right to believe in Quincy, and she was lucky to have so many people in her life that cared about both of them. Angela and Joey had dragged her out with them last night to spend Christmas Eve at Angela’s parents’ house. Roni hadn’t been feeling festive, and she hadn’t wanted to go, but in the end she was glad she had. Angela’s boisterous family had known her for so long, they knew just how to make her laugh, and she’d needed that. Though coming home to an empty apartment had left her sad and lonely once again.

  She finished her hot chocolate and was putting her mug in the sink when a knock sounded on the balcony door. She glanced at the clock on the stove, wondering who would show up at seven o’clock Christmas morning. She crossed the room and peeked between the curtains. Angela waved from the other side of the glass. She was wearing a red Santa hat and holding a plastic container. She lifted it, doing a happy dance as Roni opened the door.

  “Merry Christmas, sugarplum! It’s freezing out here,” Angela said, pushing past her. She eyed Roni with a disturbed look on her face as she set the container on the table. “What do you have going on here?” She waved a finger at Roni. “A little Britney Spears hot mess mixed with Billie Eilish style and Helena Bonham Carter hair?”