Six Months Later

Dean

Tucking my hands in my pocket, I step alongside Leila. Her eyelids flutter closed as she places her fingers to her mouth, blows a kiss, and mouths something into the briny air. Grinding her toes further into the sand still soggy from the retreating tide, she shields her eyes from the sun, lets out a sigh, and loops an arm through mine.

“Has Tatum moved?” I take a deep breath, turn around to see that unlike last time we were here where Tatum lay in the sun most of the time, she’s taking slow steps closer toward the water's edge.

Our eyes lock, her smile heavily laden with the fear she’s shoving back. I’m rooted to my spot, unable to tear my eyes away from witnessing her bravery. This is huge for her. I can’t lose focus on the way she looks at me with more love than I’ve ever seen radiating off her. It’s an image I never want to erase from my mind.

“Maybe.” I devour my woman with my stare, scan her from head to toe, and watch her draw nearer. She is so fucking beautiful. A vision I hope to admire for the rest of my life.

I’d be lying if I said the first couple of weeks after our run-in with Sam weren’t trying on every one of us. I needed a smoke so Goddamn bad that several times I found myself grabbing my keys to go buy some, only to surrender to the guilt over breaking my promise to Leila. I haven’t touched a cigarette in six months. Don’t miss them at all now.

Tatum finally broke down in my arms a few days later. Cried until her eyes were puffy and swollen. Worry creating line after line across her forehead and face. She was scared out of her mind the cops were going to show up and arrest me. It didn’t matter how many times I tried to convince her Sam knew better this time than to press charges; she still worried until we knew for sure he boarded a plane for New York. Bastard better stay put. He’s not wanted or missed in LA.

The man is a huge part of her past, and at the time, her anger took over, replacing the emotional pain he caused. Fairly certain by the time Roman pulled me off him and she saw the bloody mess of his face was when she let go of her anger.

For the most part, though, it was the things he had done. The crippling words, the abuse, and his overall hatred for me that hurt her the most.

The Goddamn vultures, though, they will never leave us alone. Always hounding, pushing and shoving their way into our lives. Think she’s grown accustomed to it by now. She ignores them.

And I know, Christ Almighty, do I know how fretful and on edge she was over her interaction with Miles.

I’ve watched the tape. More times than I care to admit. When my life took a turn for the good, I told myself I would never steal a damn thing again, but something inside of me broke that night. I stole that tape instead of destroying it. Locked it up for a solid month until we knew for sure Miles was on his way to becoming the man he should be. Then I flew to visit him, slid it across the table, and told him what it was. He barely had any recollection of that night. Still, the voices in my head, the doubt of him tumbling backward at any given moment was the reason I gave it to him. He needed to know how valuable his life is. How much he loves his dead woman and son, and how he can never give up again. It isn’t going to be easy by any means, but with him living with a clear head, I’ve no doubt he’ll work on himself the same way he strums his bass guitar. With the skill of a madman on a mission to be the best he can be.

A cool current of air whips over us, bringing in the smell of the salty ocean with it, causing Tatum to pause a step behind us. “One more step, baby. You can do it.” I hold out my hand for her to grasp, tucking her into my side when she takes the final step. She lets out a large breath, her eyes widening when the water slows a foot ahead of us, pauses, and leaves its rippling design on the sand as it travels back out to sea.

“Look at this; I have my two girls tucked into my side.” I glance at both of them; they appear lost in their thoughts.

Years ago, I thought I made peace with my son's death. Don’t think I’ll ever be fully there, nor has or ever will there be a day when I don’t wish he were here, but I’m grateful for the time I had with him. I’m thankful he was one of the people who taught me what love really means, and I’m damn proud to have been chosen to be his father.

Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I wake coated in sweat. The pain in my heart shattering me all over again. I grieve. I mourn. And I remember the tragic loss of my son.

Leila nudges me in my side. Her patience about our secret is running on empty. The girl has grown up a lot in the past six months. I think a lot of it has to do with witnessing Miles’ downfall. I never pried into what, if anything, went down between the two of them. Confident nothing too damaging to her soul did. I think she cares for him as much as she does for everyone else. I also know she carries guilt over the night she partied with him. Both Tatum and I tried to convince her to let it go. It’s a lot easier said than done when the shoe is on the other foot. With Leila, though, she’s by far a lot more like me than we both thought. A fixer. A protector. Her proof of holding in the same secret from me as I did her was all the convincing I needed. Proud of my girl. Proud of Tatum for embracing her fear of the water. Maybe next time we visit, she’ll conquer it by going in.

I used to think of my daughter as a flower waiting to bloom. She blossomed without me even noticing. Her inner strength is a shield she didn’t get from her brother. She got it on her own. She has a bright future ahead of her. One I’ll adapt to when she leaves next month for an internship in Miami. One she sprung on me last minute. One I’m not looking forward to at all. But she deserves to spread her wings and fly. To become the woman she wants to be.

“You ladies ready? We have a plane to catch, so we need to get going.” I wink at Leila, who takes a step back, giving me room to drop to my knees.

“What are you doing?” Tatum asks, eyes following me before she tilts her head, then lets out a gasp when I bring a black velvet box out of my pocket.

“I wanted Erica to be here for this. I’m sorry she isn’t. She knows about it, though. It was here where we met. Figured it should be here where I ask you to marry me. For us to make a happy memory here. I love you, Tatum. Never thought I had it in me to love a woman. You came into my life for a reason. For me to love you, protect you, cherish you. You love my daughter. You love me, and you protect me. In the seven months since we’ve gotten to know one another, you’ve given me everything. I told you time and time again how much you’ve helped me heal, whether you wanted to or not. It’s worth repeating. Marry me, beautiful. Move in with me when we get home.”

I’ve never been more nervous about anything in my life. I can’t remember the first time I told her I loved her. It wasn’t that long ago when I did. Knew I loved her before I told her. Knew she loved me before she said it back. The last month or so, we’ve talked about her moving in. About the possibility of us having a child down the road. I’m ready to have it all. With her.

She drops to her knees, takes hold of my face, and kisses me. Her cold lips warming the more they move with mine.

“Yes, I’ll marry you, Dean Wagner. I love you.”

A tear slips down my cheek. Followed by another. I’m a man who isn’t afraid to cry. A man who has everything I ever wanted. All I will ever need.