Twenty-Four
Fisher
I wasn’t sure if Aengus was shocked because of what I had said or the fact that I had just buried a bullet in his chest.
Whatever the reason, his eyes were wide, his mouth gaped open as he dropped to his knees.
There was no blood at first, but then it all seemed to come in a rush, pouring out of him and onto the conveniently placed plastic tarp.
I kept my arm extended, but didn’t take my eyes off Aengus, just watched him until he took his very last breath.
Until the split second before I had pulled the trigger, I hadn’t known that I was going to. But when I did, I felt a sense of rightness.
It was kind of fucked up, knowing that killing your father was the right thing to do. But I had done it, and I had absolutely no regrets.
I looked up at the others, and found four sets of eyes peering back at me.
“You done?” Patrick asked.
“I hope so,” I responded, meaning it. I had no desire to harm them, not anymore.
I slightly loosened my grip on the gun and then lowered my arm.
This was probably insanity, but I was going with my gut, and in doing so I dropped the weapon, listened as it clanged against the ground.
We looked at each other, none of us seeming to know what to say.
“This has been an eventful day,” Sean said.
“Shut up, asshole,” Michael said.
I looked at him, saw that he glared at me, but resisted the impulse to apologize for punching him.
Instead I looked at Patrick.
“I don’t have the right to ask for anything,” I said.
“But you’re going to do it anyway?” Patrick asked.
“Yes. Before you kill me, can I see Jade one last time?”
Jade
“Holding your best friend hostage at your parents’ house is a serious violation of the girl code, Nya,” I said two hours later.
“You’d know about violations of the girl code now wouldn’t you?” she said.
“Bitch,” I muttered.
Nya smiled. “You’re feeling better I take it?” she said.
“No. I feel like shit,” I replied.
“I’m sorry about that. But I’m doing this for your own good. I don’t know what’s going on, and whatever might have happened, I don’t want to see you out there getting yourself caught up in something you don’t understand.”
“That’s the thing. I understand exactly what I’m getting myself caught up in, but I want to do it anyway,” I said.
“Jade, we’ve gone over this. I’m not gonna let you leave.”
“So you’re going to force me to sit here while the man I love dies?”
“Who is this man you love?” a voice said.
I slammed my eyes shut, and didn’t dare turn around. I couldn’t. Because I was hearing things, or clearly going crazy.
“I’ll excuse myself,” Nya whispered.
At the sound of her voice I opened my eyes, watched as she walked away, but still didn’t turn around.
“Jade?” I heard when the door closed.
Still, I didn’t look.
“Are you ignoring me?” he said.
“Yes. Because you’re a figment of my imagination. I don’t entertain those,” I said.
He laughed, the sound so familiar, one I loved so much.
“What are you on about, silly woman?” he said. I listened to the sound of his footsteps, but still didn’t look at him when I felt a presence kneel down at my side.
“Jade, I’m not a figment of your imagination,” he said.
Before I could stop myself I turned to look, locked eyes with those dark auburn ones that I knew I would remember forever.
“You’re here?” I asked, my voice brimming with disbelief.
“I am,” he said.
“How?”
“A favor,” he said.
I didn’t say anything else. Instead I sprang at him, wrapped my arms around him tight.
“Let’s go home,” he whispered as I clung to him.
“Home?” I said, pulling back to look at him.
He nodded.
We linked hands and walked out of the guest bedroom. I saw Patrick there, holding Siobhan. He looked at me, nodded curtly, and then went back to playing with the baby. The depth of my gratitude toward him was something I didn’t fully comprehend, but I would tell him that. And maybe, that kernel of a relationship that we had been on the verge of growing might come to something.
Couldn’t say for sure that it would grow into something, couldn’t say that Nya would forgive me. But now I had something that had been long missing from my life.
I had hope.
I looked at Fisher, then without another word followed him outside of the house.
He got behind the wheel of an SUV and I followed.
“Not bad,” I said.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“The last time I saw you, I was certain you were going to die. Now you’re back and with a new car to boot,” I said.
Fisher glanced at me, smiled, that same cocky little expression on his face. I didn’t begrudge him it. Instead I reached across the console and entwined my fingers with his.
He squeezed slightly, that small gesture telling me so much.
We drove in silence, and I realized that I had no idea where we were going. Realized even more that I didn’t care.
We pulled into the familiar driveway, that sense of rightness only intensified.
“Home,” I whispered, remembering his words from earlier.
“Home,” he said.
And then, there were no more words.
I silently followed Fisher into the house, not stopping as we headed to the bedroom.
My gaze snagged on the kitchen, my mind hurdling back to those terrible hours before, ones when I had been certain that I had lost him forever.
But Fisher squeezed my hand, a silent reminder that he was here, with me.
And after that, all thought was gone.
We reached the bedroom, I stood in front of him, the sunlight painting him in an ethereal glow, or maybe that was simply my eyes seeing what they wanted to.
It didn’t matter.
What mattered was that he was here, and that was what I held on to.
I reached up slowly, brushed my fingers against his jaw, then kissed the spot I had touched. Did the same with his neck, his collarbone, the hard slab of his pecs.
I peeled his shirt off slowly, kissing him everywhere I touched him, him doing the same.
The physical connection we had shared before had been intense, the emotional connection even more so, but this, these moments with him, were beyond my ability to describe, let alone comprehend.
With him, like this, I felt a sense of right, a sense of completion.
Home.
I didn’t know how it had happened, how this man, so full of anger, full of even more hurt, had touched me, reached the parts of me that I had been content to ignore.
But he had, and I would love him forever.
When our clothes were gone, he pushed me down on the bed, and then joined me, our limbs entwined, every inch of our bodies touching.
It was perfection, or it would be soon.
I stroked his broad shoulders, moved down the planes of his chest, down his stomach to his shaft.
I touched him gently, leisurely, reveling in the feel of him in my hands, his breath against my skin.
Soon, he took over.
He pushed my arms up next to my head and captured one of my hands in each of his, entwining our fingers.
We were face-to-face, chest-to-chest, his hardness throbbing at the edge of my entrance.
We locked eyes, his so emotional, me certain that mine were the same.
And I held his gaze, he held mine as he slowly entered me.
As we were joined, I knew I would never let him go.
Jade
Later, as I lay curled in Fisher’s arms I squeezed him tight.
“You didn’t ask what happened,” he said.
“No,” I responded.
“Are you going to ask what happened?” he said.
“No,” I repeated.
“That’s not like you. Why not?” he asked.
Though I was reluctant to do so I pulled myself out of his arms and looked into his eyes.
“You’re here now. That’s all that matters,” I said.
Then I kissed him.