The wonderful thing about ambulances, when you’re trying to figure out where someone ended up without asking a lot of questions, is that they take their passengers to the closest hospital. I didn’t have to make any calls pretending I was family, I didn’t have to call his parents pretending I was a concerned friend, I didn’t have to break into anything, or perform any cloak and dagger work—which was my favorite kind when it came to work, but it took time and that we didn’t have. All I did was walk through the sliding glass doors, give the elderly lady manning the front desk a wholesome-as-apple-pie smile as I glided by her, and press the third floor button when I stepped into the elevator.
From everything I’d gathered from the Scarletts, if they weren’t even sure he was still breathing, he’d be in critical care, if not the ICU, after they finished sewing him back together in the ER. I also knew they’d be working on him for awhile because the damage a bat can do to a Mortal body when swung with the right degree of power and vengeance can be rather extensive.
So I copped a squat in the waiting room and made a call. The twerp let it ring right up to the voicemail message.
“S’up?” Joseph answered, sounding like a gang leader for the happy and cheerful.
“I need you and Nathanial here,” I said. “Now. I don’t have time to explain, but I need my brothers here, and I need you to be ready to intimidate the hell out of someone. I’ll explain later.”
The other end was silent for a second, and then, “We’ll be there. Text me your location,” he said, his voice as serious as Joseph could manage. “See you soon.”
“Sooner,” I said, ending the call. Joseph’s word, just like any of my brother’s, was golden. They’d be here—I just hoped they’d be here in a few hours.
I passed the next couple hours playing a mean game of chess with myself in my head. It was brutal, but I won.
I made a stop at the vending machine, feeding it as many dollars as it had of those packages of soft, delicious cookies. I ate them all. When another hour came and went without a rolling stretcher holding the moaning remains of Ty Steel, I hit the deck and did one thousand sit-ups. I never tired, I never stopped thinking of Emma, I was never able to erase the image of her bloodied face from my mind.
I wanted to call her, just to do a quick check-in to make sure she was doing all right and they’d all made it to my place, but I couldn’t risk it. Unless I absolutely needed to reach them for nothing short of an emergency, I needed to keep as much evidence off the prosecutor’s table as I could.
I was about to drop and break into a second set of sit-ups when an elevator chimed, its door gliding open. A stretcher spilled out, pushed by a couple of nurses and escorted by a male and female who I didn’t need to be introduced to on a last name basis. I was looking at the man Ty would look like in another thirty years, brow set in a permanent line of supremacy, eyes wandering over everything like it was unsatisfactory, gut pinching over the belt, and fists half curled, always at the ready.
Mrs. Steel looked like she’d just gotten back from a Mediterranean vacation a week ago and had just stepped out of the local country club’s supper club. Her face was as unpleasant as Mr. Steel’s, but it was because of the sadness that shadowed hers. That, and the clothes that covered too much of her body for the warm California air, led me to the conclusion that battery ran in the family.
I didn’t bother to look away as they glided by the waiting room, knowing enough of them from two seconds of observation that they weren’t the type to pay any attention to riff raff.
I listened to each rotation of the wheels, calculating the distance they were traversing so I could teleport into Ty’s room and not his neighbor’s. I’d have to wait until his parents left, for reasons that would be obvious soon enough, but something about their inconvenienced looks coming from the elevators told me they weren’t the not-leaving-your-side-for-sleep-water-or-food type.
Two sets of steps sounded down the hall halfway into the late, late, late show. I didn’t wait for the Steels to pass the waiting room before standing up, preparing to undergo the best part of this plan. I hadn’t seen hide or hair of any other Haywards, but I didn’t let that worry me yet.
Joseph said they’d be here, so they would. They’d never let me down, and they’d had two hundred and some years to do it if they wanted to.
One blink later I was standing in front of Ty Steel’s quiet form. It was the first time I’d seen him like this and I thought it was a look that suited him. Sleeping, snoring, bandaged to the point he looked like a mummy, with more than half of his limbs splinted or casted. The Scarlett boys didn’t take payback lightly when it came to their sister. I wouldn’t have either.
I let myself linger over their handiwork a while longer before setting out to do my own.
Coming to the side of his bed, I covered my hand over his mouth and nose, not in an attempt to kill him, but to wake him. Lack of oxygen has a way of jerking the body awake.
Jerk awake he did. His Frankensteined face grimaced with the sharp movement, but then he noticed who was hovering above him and his eyes couldn’t have opened wider.
He tried to make a noise, but my hand caught his throat, trapping it and his airways between my thumb and index finger.
“Listen to me, you sick f’er, and listen to me good,” I growled, wanting to hit him so badly now that he was right in front of me. I wanted to hit him for hitting Emma. I knew it was twisted, I knew it didn’t seem right in the don’t repay evil with evil world we were raised in, but what society failed to calculate in forming this saying was that the evil doers didn’t stop spreading evil unless the good guys took a stand and stopped them however they had to.
Ty’s eyes were more swollen shut than Emma’s, but he was looking at me, he was paying attention. Holding a man’s windpipe at your mercy has a way of commanding attention.
“I’m not who you think I am,” I began, wishing I had the time to tell him everything about who I was, what I was, so he’d piss himself to sleep every night forward. “I’m not a twenty-year-old, impressionable, idealistic, jerk off boy. I’m the guy who holds slime like you accountable. I’m the guy who tells low lives like you there are ways you can treat a woman and ways you cannot. I’m the guy who takes monsters like you out of the equation if they don’t listen.” I was shaking from the anger boiling to the surface and from holding myself back from finishing him. “So tell me, Ty, are you really listening?” I pinched his windpipe tighter, feeling the pulse dim, his face rainbow through the right shades of colors, knowing my two fingers held him less than a minute away from death.
His head moved once. I took that as a yes.
“You feel that?” I asked, another pinch tighter. “That’s me holding you a toe away from death. That’s me holding your worthless life in my hands. Would you like to continue living your life? Or would you prefer if I just put you out of your misery now?”
Another next to imperceptible bob of the head.
I didn’t let go that moment, nor did I the next, but waited for the involuntary gasping to commence. I didn’t want him to doubt my sincerity in making death threats.
Releasing his throat, I pulled my hand back and wiped it clean.
“I just gave you a gift. Your life, which was mine, back. But now you owe me,” I said, arching a brow. “I don’t give gifts to filth like you without attaching expectations to them. So you’re going to have to earn that gift. You’ll be paying for it until the day you die—whether that’s sooner rather than later makes no difference to me. In fact, it would probably be a relief to know one of the boogeyman of this world was down for the count. Makes my job a helluva lot easier.” This was true on several levels: my job as a Guardian, my job as a boyfriend, and my job as a man who believed it was his job to protect women from the bad eggs of my gender.
Ty’s eyes never left mine as he coughed and gasped his way to filling his lungs back up. I’d never seen fear in his eyes until now. I wanted to take a picture so I could show Emma what a quivering, helpless, scared little boy he’d been reduced to. But again, pictures, no matter how well you hid them or erased them, had a way of always ending up on the table of the lawyer on the other side.
“First part of your payment plan is not mentioning the name Scarlett when you talk to the police. You are not to mention seeing them tonight, talking to them tonight, or the little fact that they f’ed you up. When they ask who did this to you,”—I leaned over him, making sure he knew this was one of the important things of all the important things I was “reviewing” with him—“you tell them I did this. I was alone, I was pissed, and paid you back for beating up my girlfriend by letting you feel the fat end of my bat. You will tell them what you did to Emma. You will tell them how long you did this to her.” The red was falling like a curtain over my eyes. “You will have them document every damn date, time, and detail of the abuse. You are not going to get the victim card when you get your jollies by creating them, you got me?”
I didn’t wait for a response. If he didn’t tell them the truth, I’d come to him in the middle of the night and snap his neck. But I’d wake him first so he knew what was coming.
“The second part of the life repayment plan is you are never—NEVER!”—I slapped him across his bandaged face to drill it home—“to come anywhere near Emma again. If I so much as hear of you walking in the same direction she is, I’m taking that gift I just gave you back,” I growled, lowering my face until my nose was a hair from his. “Capiche, mother-f’er?”
Standing tall, I sensed something as familiar as it was relieving.
“Emma’s brothers will be watching her, and if by some unlikely, statistical impossibility you get out of jail before I do, I’ve got brothers too.”
The door clicked open then, on cue, and two forms ghosted into the room, stacking themselves behind me. And then a third.
William nodded his head in acknowledgement as he took his place beside Joseph and Nathanial behind me.
“And they’ll be watching you,” I continued, turning my attention back on Ty, fighting through the emotion lumping in my throat. “And by the way, I’m the merciful one in the family,” I said, tilting my head behind me to fill in the blanks.
Angling myself their way, I winked at them. They stayed in character, looking like they broke men’s bones by day and hunted demons by night.
God I loved my brothers. They’d taken the intimidation thing seriously. Varying shades of black clung to them, their jaws clenched rabid tight, and their eyes flashed with the deaths they’d had hands in. Nathanial was the most terrifying of course, that was his natural inclination, but William was a close second, and every-day’s-a-great-one Joseph was a distant third. But I had to award him some serious props. It was the longest I’d seen his mouth curled downwards—ever.
Flicking the big toe of Ty’s splinted leg, I headed for the door. “Enjoy your pureed pop-tarts, sucker.”
Three sets of steps fell into formation behind me, saying nothing else, which jacked the room with another hit of intimidation before we left.
Down the hall, the elevator, and past the front desk, we didn’t exchange a single word. Silence was an easy conversation to have with my brothers. We said the most intimate things in silence and you never doubted the others were listening when you said something that needed saying.
Only when we were sliding into the Mustang did Joseph pipe up; he always was the first one. If it wasn’t me. Silence didn’t suit Joseph and me like it did William and Nathanial.
“So we made it,” he said, pushing on my shoulder as he slid into the seat behind me. “Mind telling me what we’re doing here?”
I turned the key over in the ignition, screeching out of the parking lot. “You know how you like hearing every nitty gritty detail in an explanation?” I asked, busting into second gear.
“Yee-ahh?” Joseph answered.
“You’re not going to get it. Sorry, no time and not enough energy for it right now,” I said, to which I received two sighs, one heavy and one short, and a soft chuckle from the dark-haired older brother riding bitch next to me.
I slid William a grin. “Let’s just say, like with most my stories, this is a long one, and you’re just going to have to make peace with the condensed version.”
“Hey, cranky-pants,” Joseph said, sounding as irritated as the class sweetheart, “don’t mind us, we’re just the three brothers who left what we were doing in the middle of the night to get our butts to a critical care unit in California. No questions asked, no thanks even required.”
“Your point?” I asked, looking at him in the rear view.
“Don’t you have something to say?” he asked. “Something along the lines of appreciation?”
“I thought you just said no thanks even required,” I snapped half-heartedly.
“I wasn’t serious.”
“Thank you,” I said like a smart-ass, attacking the asphalt leading up the on ramp. Something softened in me as the miles per hour ticked higher. Speed was my ultimate calming salve.
“No, really. All jokes, wisecracks, and sarcasm aside, thank you,” I said, glancing at each of them. “I needed you here tonight. Thanks for showing up.”
“We’ll always show up,” William said, clapping a hand over my shoulder.
“I didn’t expect you’d be here,” I said. “I thought you’d be swatting away cat-sized mosquitoes in the middle of some jungle god forgot about, immunizing orphans or something.”
“I was,” he answered. “We just got back earlier today. So your timing was impeccable for making a Hayward 911 call.”
“And do I want to know how the three of you got here so fast?” I didn’t care, but I guessed it was a good story.
I heard the grin in William’s voice. “You know that private jet you suspected I had?”
“That you never actually confirmed.” I slugged his arm—he’d been holding out on me.
“Yeah, well, let’s just say she’s fast and her pilot has this need for speed gene that runs in the family.”
“You bad-ass you,” I said, splitting through traffic like the man with a mission I was. I knew I had limited time with Emma, hours limited, and as much as I loved my brothers, I’d spent two centuries with them. I wanted to spend my last few hours with the girl I loved in my arms.
“How lovely for you two to be having a bonding moment up there,” Joseph said, hating nothing more than being left out, as his face popped in the space between William and me. “But I want to know who the banged up dude we were just playing The Punisher for is.”
“You’re a persistent little guy, you know that?” I said, pushing his face back. “I’m going to say this once and quickly. You can get the rest of the details out of the other parties involved if you’re so moved,” I began, swinging into the right hand lane as my exit seemed to pop out of nowhere. That had a tendency of happening when you were cruising at a hundred and twenty with three brothers that had a way of distracting you from your best intentions.
“The Frankenmummy used to be my girlfriend’s boyfriend.” I smiled at William from the side at the word girlfriend, wagging my brows. It was the first time I’d used the word in the possessive form. “He beat her for five years before almost killing her tonight when she broke up with him. Emma—that’s my girl’s name,” I explained proudly, “has three brothers, and they were the ones that created the masterpiece you had the privilege of viewing tonight. For reasons that are extensive and rather inconsequential, I’m going to be taking the heat for the manslaughter miss. Ty’s on board, Emma’s brothers are, and I’m assuming, based on the fact I’ll kick all your asses if you’re not, all of you are on board.” I pointed at each of them with my eyes. “I just have one woman to convince.”
The trio of brothers around me erupted in laughter, Joseph guffawing in stomach clenching fits. “Yeah, good luck with that, Patrick.”
“Here we thought you were the one that knew everything there was to know about women,” Nathanial chuckled in his baritone tenor. “There’s a higher likelihood of you calling mercy when I’ve got you locked in an arm bar than you have of convincing a woman of something she doesn’t want to be convinced of.”
I slammed the brakes at the bottom of the ramp, hoping it would startle their laughter away. No can do.
“I’ve never, nor will I ever, call mercy because your arm bars are easier to get out of than Rumpelstiltskin’s here”—I pointed my finger at the youngest Hayward brother—“left armed choker hold’s”—Nathanial’s face went from pissed to mega pissed—“and Emma is different than other women. She’ll understand.”
“Sure she will,” Joseph smirked, massaging my shoulders like he was preparing me for a boxing match. “Good luck with that, champ. Let us know how it goes.”
Tearing away at the last few miles towards Emma, I found myself checking the rear view mirror for blinking red and blue lights. Whatever I was sentenced to, I was more troubled by the idea the blues would get to me before I got to Emma. I had to see her, touch her, one more time before I did some hard or soft time.
“Hey, you guys wouldn’t happen to know where I could find myself a badass attorney with an unheard of win ratio, would you?”
Nathanial grunted. “Because you’re my brother, I’ll defend you, but because you are my brother, I’m charging you double.”
“You still owe me from that snafu you found yourself in a few years back in Serbia,” I argued.
“It wasn’t a snafu,” Nathanial said, his voice tight. “And nothing I couldn’t handle minus one brother on a perpetual ego trip.”
“Boy, I’ve sure missed you guys,” I said, pulling into the driveway. “It’s been too peaceful without the three of you around to gang up on me.”
I cut the engine, noticing the blinds moving as someone peeked out. “All right, boys. Be on your best behavior. You’re about to meet my future wife,” I said, shutting the door behind me and turning into a double wide sized chest.
“What are you playing at, Patrick?” Nathanial growled low in my face, glaring at me. “When Joseph told me you were seeing a girl from school”—I threw the traitor baby of the family a glare—“I didn’t take it seriously since none of your relationships, and I use the term relationship loosely, get anywhere close to serious. But this one’s obviously crossed that line.” He was still growling as he tilted his head to the house where she was somewhere inside. “She’s a Mortal and, last time I checked, our kind is not allowed to fraternize, let alone Unite, with one.”
I shoved him away from me. “William did it.”
“That was different,” Nathanial replied, stepping back into the space I’d created.
“Why?” I hissed. “Because he was having wet dreams of Bryn for generations?” I shoved him again, taking my anger at the intricacies and impossible rules of my kind out on my bear of a brother.
Then I realized what I’d said. I looked over the roof of the car at William. “Sorry, no disrespect to you or Bryn. I’m just pissed at pious Zeus over here.”
William waved a dismissive hand, trying to keep from laughing. At least someone had a sense of humor other than me.
“It will all work out,” I said, staring at nothing in particular.
Nathanial grunted. “Classic Patrick justification for doing something you know isn’t right.”
“Classic Patrick solution,” I annunciated, looking up into the lined face of my brother, wondering why everyone thought we looked so much alike. He looked like a hulking, angry troll ninety percent of the time. “It will work. Stay tuned and enjoy the show because I can’t wait to say I told you so when all’s said and done.”
“Nothing is ever said and done with you,” Nathanial replied, blocking my path when I tried to move away from him. I could have teleported to get away, but he’d thrown down a silent challenge and that was something I never ran—or teleported—away from. I’d stand square in front of him until I’d worn him down.
“Back me up on this, William,” I said, knowing he was the only one who could understand what it felt like to want something more than anything else you’d ever wanted, only to be told it could never be yours. Neither of us were the kind of man that were subservient enough to let that pass.
“Leave him alone,” William said in his ever calm voice. “He’s got this.”
Pausing, he let that settle between the group of us before continuing. “Can anyone think of a single time Patrick has ever failed at something he set out to do?” he asked, boring his eyes into Nathanial and then Joseph. “Can anyone think of a time Patrick has ever let us down? Can anyone think of anything Patrick has done that has earned him anything but a future of happiness?”
Our eyes locked for only a moment, but it was a powerful one. This was the reason I, and the other two brothers, idolized William. He was a god who’d been born to mankind. Lucky for me, he was on my side.
“Let him run the show. I, for one, will be there to provide whatever support you need. Just say the word, and I’m there,” he said, nodding. “Bryn, too.”
This time when I moved to get around Nathanial, he didn’t block me. Nothing like one of William’s speeches to make the stubborn headed see reason.
“Hey, brother,” I said, grabbing him in a tight embrace and swinging him around. “Have I told you lately that I love you?” I crooned, covering my hand with my heart. “Have I told you, there’s no one else above you?” I continued, singing like I was performing in a sold-out stadium.
“Ugh,” Joseph said, coming up behind me and clamping a hand over my mouth. “That’s a Hell on Wheels song and we are no longer on wheels, so please, save us the hell.”
I broke his hold and caught him in a neck lock, mussing his hair because it looked better than mine for the first time in eternity and I couldn’t have that.
“Come on,” I said, throwing my other arm around William’s neck, messing his hair too because his always looked good and he thought product was a term associated with economics. “You guys are going to love Emma.”
“That reminds me,” William said, flipping his hair back once I was done faux-hawking it. “Bryn says she expects to meet the girl who took her place in your heart. Soon. Dinner tomorrow night soon.”
“I think I’ll be eating from a metal tray in an orange jumpsuit tomorrow night,” I said, making a face because orange did not compliment me. “We’ll do dinner when I’m out. Although we’ll probably have to do it here since I doubt my parole will allow for out-of-state dinners with family.”
Joseph elbowed me. “Like trivial things such as breaking laws has ever stopped you before.”
“Yeah, before,” I said, walking up the pathway, not really caring if Nathanial followed or not. He could stay on the driveway and pout the night out if he wanted. “But now I’ve got Emma. I’ve got responsibilities.”
“Holy crap,” Joseph hollered, slapping his knee. “It took him two hundred years, but he finally grew up.”
I stuck my tongue out at him as we stepped up onto the porch. “Yeah, well, you’re ugly.”
“Burn,” Joseph deadpanned, pushing me against the door. It was open just enough I toppled inside, sliding across the wood floors a few feet before my shoulder rammed into a blood free pair of jeans.
“Hey, Tex,” I said, looking up.
“You sure know how to make an entrance,” he said, looking down at me like he could squash me, before extending his hand and helping me up.
“It’s a middle child thing,” I said, hopping to a stand. Looking back at my brothers filtering into the room, I decided now was the time to get the introductions out of the way.
“This is Tex,”—he tilted his chin at the Haywards behind me—“that’s Dallas,” I pointed at the tower leaning against the counter with arms crossed, “and that’s Austin.” I motioned to the Scarlett who was looking a little worse for wear, a little regretful, and a lot sick to his stomach.
From the corner of my eye, I saw a swaying motion approach from down the hall. I was grinning like Joseph by the time I turned to her and was laughing for some reason—love had made me kind of mad—as I jogged over to her. I forgot about the six brothers between us staring at each other in the kitchen, I forgot about the cops coming to get me sometime in the near future, I forgot about the world. Except for ours. That would go with me wherever I went.
“Did Doctor Grey make me all pretty for you?” she asked, smiling at me.
“Radiant,” I answered, resting my hands on her face, not seeing past the bruises and bandages, but seeing the strength and mercy in them. Ty could have killed her, he nearly did, but by the hand of God or the hand of fate, he hadn’t. And it was the first and last thing I’d be thankful to him for.
“Come here,” I said, pressing a soft kiss into her swollen lips. “I want to introduce you to some guys I know.”
As we rounded the corner in full view of my brothers, I remembered again why it was I’d give my life for any of them. They all took one long look at Emma, not missing one thing, and smiled.
There wasn’t a pause in response as they squirmed from the bruises, there wasn’t a slant of pity in their eyes for the battered girl bandaged before them, there wasn’t a single line of disapproval on any of their foreheads, not even Nathanial, although I knew he disapproved of this for one reason. There was nothing but acceptance.
A stroke of eureka occurred right then. Against everything I’d always been told and believed about perfection not being a providence of this fallen world, I knew in my heart just then that was only partly true. There weren’t perfect people, nor were there perfect lives or perfect relationships. There were, however, perfect moments. And this was one of them.
“Emma,” I said, keeping her tucked to my side, “meet my brothers. Brothers, meet Emma.”
Emma lifted her hand and made a wave. “Nice to meet you, brothers,” she said, staring at them like they were at her.
I leaned in to whisper in her ear. “You can stop gawking now. I know they’re not bad to look at, but they’re married men with territorial, uber jealous wives.”
Turning her head so her lips were in line with mine, she whispered, “I wasn’t gawking. I was just noticing how I wound up with the hottest one.”
I kissed her, not caring that I was making three brothers uncomfortable and three brothers aggravated. “Lord knows I don’t need the boost, but you are good for my ego, woman,” I said, a tad flushed and more than a tad breathless.
Stepping forward from the kitchen trenches, William approached us. “We’re also called Nathanial, Joseph,”—he pointed at the corresponding brother—“and I’m William. Although Patrick has a good many other names for me that I hope he won’t share with you.”
Emma extended her hand and William did something that was remarkably out of character for him. He stepped around her extended hand and hugged her, something he only shared with another female if she was in his family. He knew, he accepted it. Only a variable amount of time and two exchanged vows kept Emma out of the Hayward clan.
“Nice to meet you all,” she said as William wound his way out of her arms. “Finally,” she added, elbowing me in the side. “I assumed Patrick was lying about his family or he came from some clan of supernatural creatures that would kill me if I discovered their existence.”
Nathanial made a solo note, low-pitched, sharp laugh. “How imaginative.”
“I’m sorry to be abrupt,” Emma said suddenly to my brothers before looking at me, “but they didn’t tell me a single thing on our way here. Tex said you’d be the one to do all the explaining, and I’m afraid the suspense is killing me as to why we’re all here.” Her face formed with the worry that wouldn’t soon leave it if we slid down the explanation rabbit hole.
“Would you guys excuse us for a while?” I addressed the room with an invisible line drawn between the Haywards and Scarletts. “Just, eh, make yourselves comfortable.”
Grabbing Emma’s hand in mine, I headed for the balcony for the illusion of privacy. It wouldn’t have mattered if we were two houses down—if my brothers wanted to eavesdrop on our conversation, they could, and knowing Joseph and his expecting this whole convincing Emma thing to be a flop, he’d be hanging on every word.
Sliding the door closed behind us, I didn’t think about what I was doing until I was kissing her, bracing her against the railing, moving my mouth against hers not as softly as I should have, but not as roughly as I wanted.
I didn’t really care if her brothers were watching and about to kick my butt, and I didn’t care if my brothers were watching and disapproving of every last forbidden Mortal fraternization kiss, I only cared that this was what I had to do right now.
Some instances were created ages before the beings involved in it were even born. This was one of those instances. Me kissing Emma, Emma kissing me, like history had been building it up since the world’s inception.
I could have said this was something of a “good” kiss, but there weren’t words, least of all “good.”
“Goodness gracious,” she whispered, breathing short when I pulled away just enough to still feel close, but still kind of pained at the distance. “Now I’m even more convinced what you’ve got to say is going to be bad. Very bad,” she said, looking at me, waiting for an explanation.
“Why?” I asked, touching the bandage covering the better part of her forehead.
I felt the muscles move beneath it. “Because no one kisses like that unless they’re half convinced it could be their last kiss for a while.”
Man, that would have been the kind of kiss to end it all on, it was the way I wanted to go—kissing the woman I loved—but I hoped there’d be more before my lips, along with the rest of me, took me to jail.
“It’s not so bad,” I began, making a no big deal face.
“No one says that unless it is bad,” she replied, tracing a finger over the Stanford lettering of the sweatshirt I’d snatched from one of her brothers. “Just give it to me straight, no more stalling, no more kissing, no more modifiers as you ease yourself into it. Explain until the explaining’s done.”
That was typically the way I liked things, the way I did things. I was anti-sugar when it came to coating the truth, but having Emma standing before me now, wanting nothing more than to protect her and give her nothing but happiness, I got why William had been a fan of using it with Bryn.
It was the only mercy we had to offer them in the midst of the often cold, always hard, truth. However, just as William had been when Bryn had thrown the no-sugar-today ultimatum on the table, I was incapable of giving Emma anything but the same at her request.
“It’s very likely your brothers will be facing some convincing charges for what they did to Ty tonight,” I began, finding it hard to look into her face as the strength began to melt away, piece by piece. “I doubt there’s any way around serving jail time, which would result in them losing their scholarships, their spots on the football team, the futures they planned on.”
I glanced inside at the Scarlett brothers and how their lives could be permanently ruined from tonight, the injustice of it all. I was certain they hadn’t hit Ty half as many times as he had Emma over the course of five years.
“I’m not going to let this night demolish everything they’ve worked for. Like you said, the four of you got where you did by employing elbow grease and sheer determination. I won’t let them take the fall for something I would have gladly done had they not taken the honor of it away from me,” I said, trying not to overanalyze what the shift in her expression meant. “I put the bat in their hands, the idea in their heads—I was the mastermind, they were only the muscle. I can’t allow them to serve the time when they wouldn’t be facing it if it wasn’t for me. Especially when their futures won’t be waiting for them on the other side and mine will.” I’d lived three lifetimes of a man’s future and I was finally looking into the green eyes of the one I’d been waiting for.
“Patrick,” she said slowly, doubt in her voice, “what exactly are you getting at?”
“Everyone’s on board with the . . . modified version of what happened tonight. Your brothers, my brothers, Julia, Ty—”
“You saw Ty?” she said, her hands dropping to her side.
I nodded my head. “I had to convince crapperware with some persuasive means to align his side of the story with the one I crafted.”
Her face dropped too. “And what have you been crafting?” she asked, like she already knew.
“Everyone is going to confess to me being the one attacking Ty tonight,” I said, and there it was.
The flash of pain tearing open her face I’d wanted nothing more than to avoid. The pain that was perhaps the whole reason I’d avoided relationships in the past, because if you wanted to experience the good, you had to take the bad with it. Because the good was nothing but the norm without the bad.
The norm . . .
Everything Emma wanted and yet another reminder of what I couldn’t give her.
“You don’t have everyone in on your lie,” she said, trying to break free of my arms. I didn’t let her. “You went to my brothers. Your brothers. Julia. Ty!” she yelled, letting me see the hurt in her eyes. “You went to the devil himself to get him on your side before even talking to me about this?” she asked, wanting me to confirm it again because she didn’t want to believe it.
“I did,” I admitted, because there was no other way to put it.
“Yeah,” she said, breaking through my arms this time. “I guess it doesn’t really matter what the woman you supposedly love thinks. The boys are all on board, so of course Emma will just go with it, right?” she accused, spinning towards the slider. “But guess what?” she hollered, looking at me over her shoulder. “Everyone is not on board, so good luck getting your story to stick in court.”
She rushed through the door, whooshing it shut with a slam. Gripping the railing like I wanted to turn the wood to powder, I tilted my head back and cursed at the moon, at the bloody stars, and universe, and cosmos for aligning the stars to not be in my favor tonight.
One more curse flowing under my breath and I followed after her, not because I was worried about what would happen to all of us if she didn’t carve her story to match ours, but because I’d hurt her. No punishment that could be inflicted by man could hurt me worse than this.
The sets of brothers were still on opposite sides of the room, although William and Joseph were at least trying to make small talk.
“You guys,” I snapped at the pacing Scarletts, “you need to get out of here now. Before the cops get here.” When their pacing continued, I shouted, “Now!” One word put them into action faster than a string of them.
While one set of brothers were scrambling into action, I looked to the other set, one of which had a smile of satisfaction taking up the lower half of his face.
“That went well,” Joseph said, clapping his hands at me. “Like you said, convincing a woman is as easy as you are.”
William nudged him, shaking his head in a not now kind of way.
“Don’t you have a rainbow to paint or something?” I sneered over at him, holding myself back from throwing him to the ground because that’s how we Hayward brothers tended to resolve these kinds of situations. An old fashioned, rough and tumble, fight to the word mercy.
“You guys need to get out of here too,” I said, looking at William since he was the only one not smirking at me. “The fewer people here to question when the cops come to get me the better.” I waved at the door. “You can take the Mustang, so make like a tree and leave.”
“What?” Joseph said, shoving off the countertop. “I thought you wanted us to sit back and enjoy the show? I wouldn’t want to leave just as it’s about to good.” Motioning to the microwave, he added, “I just threw in a bag of popcorn to enjoy the part where Patrick is about to have his ego bubble burst.”
“Get out,” I whispered because it seemed more convincing that a scream. It was. Three brothers hurried out of the kitchen, congregating at the door.
“Hey, guys,” I called out, forcing my rage fuse to snuff out. They weren’t the ones I was mad at, and it wasn’t fair to take it out on them because I couldn’t on Ty. “Thanks,” I said, “and sorry for the mood swings.”
“When you say sorry,” Nathanial said, opening the door, “are you apologizing for tonight or since the day you were born?”
Joseph turned away, probably to hide the expression he was stifling a laugh around.
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, shooing them away. “Get out of here, you ugly brutes.”
“We love you too, little brother,” William replied before the door closed behind them.
Once they were gone, I wished they were back because nothing was waiting for me but the uncomfortable silence only an upset woman could create. This might have been a good time for the cops to come and take me away.
Forcing myself down the hall, I tapped the door of the guest room Emma had occupied a week ago.
“Go away,” was her succinct and immediate response.
“Not gonna happen,” I said, sounding another knock before letting myself in.
“Go. Away,” a blanket covered lump repeated from the bed.
“No.”
“I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t have anything to say. So be on your merry way to jail.” Her voice was more sad than angry, but more angry than affectionate.
“Don’t go to bed mad,” I said, pulling on the blanket. She snatched it right back. “Stay up and fight. You won’t be able to sleep anyways.”
“You want to fight?” Emma seethed, the blanket performing acrobatics across the room.
“Not really,” I said, taking a couple steps back because she was three shades of pissed. “I’d rather discuss what’s bothering you in a mature, peaceful, you talk and I’ll listen, then I’ll talk and you listen kind of way.”
Walking on her knees to the end of the bed, she came to a stand, glaring at me like I’d betrayed her in every way a man could betray a woman. “How about I talk loudly and you listen because I’ve heard ten lifetimes worth of screaming and I made a promise to myself I’d never allow myself to scream at someone. As much as I want to right now.” She might not have been screaming with her voice, but her eyes were picking up the slack. “So, what defense could you possibly have for getting everyone else to go along with your lies, and then you came to me last? Because Emma will go along with whatever, right?” she said, mimicking a man’s voice as she threw her arms around. She wasn’t having any problem moving those arms now. “Emma doesn’t even have a backbone. She won’t stand up to me. She won’t challenge me on this.” Her eyes were too swollen for me to detect the tear before it skied down her cheek. She wiped it away so fast it could have been acid. “What sort of explanation could you have that I’d want to hear?”
I glued myself to the wall behind me because I felt my own anger trickling into my veins, and two hot-heads accomplished nothing but a lot of shattered picture frames. “Was that you trying to twist what I did tonight into something Ty would do?”
“No,” she said, cinching her bathrobe tighter. “That was me making a conclusion based on the evidence. You didn’t ask me. You didn’t come to me first, second, or even third. You came to me last, telling me this was the way it was going to be.”
And then I got that everything-looks-different-from-someone-else’s-point-of-view ideology. Perception is reality.
“God, Emma. I’m sorry,” I said, tapping the back of my head against the wall. “It was a crappy thing to do now that I hear it from your shoes. When I came up with this hair-brained scheme, you were being stitched back together and I had to get to Ty before he talked. But you’re right, I should have come to you first,” I admitted, realizing it now, of course. Why would anyone upstairs want to make my life easy? “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. And just so we’re straight, I’m not telling you that you have to go along with this. I’m asking you.” And I was. I wouldn’t force anything on her, even myself if she didn’t want me to. “I respect whatever decision you come to and I mean that. I’m not just saying it because I’m supposed to.
“So,” I said, walking towards her, wanting to kiss her so badly I knew I shouldn’t, “are you going to tell me what’s really bothering you?”
I waited for her answer. And waited some more. I knew me not including her in my quest to make myself a felon had upset her plenty, but it wasn’t what was still causing the skin between her eyes to line.
“When I have a tough time deciding where to begin, I find starting with the truth helpful,” I said, trying to be supportive, but I knew it could be taken as a remark coming from the mouth of an insufferable smartass.
Emma collapsed on the end of the bed. “I’ve lived twenty years without you, one month with you, and for one night—one fraction of a night—you’ve been mine. And now I’m losing you,” she whispered into her lap.
And I got it. Got to the heart of the problem. Now that I’d identified it, I could work towards fixing it.
“Emma, you are not losing me,” I said, kneeling in front of her. “I’m just going to spend a little time behind bars, maybe none since I have an attorney on my side that doesn’t know how to lose.” I took her hands in mine, focusing on the feeling, knowing there’d be more than a few nights I’d spend dreaming of this moment. “And I haven’t just been yours tonight. I was a lost cause the day you called me out on a perfect sun-tanning day.”
A corner of her mouth lifted in a sad smile. “It won’t matter how long you’re in there because you’re going to end up resenting me. You’ll blame me for being there, and you’ll be right to.” She looked at me, apology etched in her face. “Nobody would be in this mess if it wasn’t for me. And I know I’m not very good at relationships, given my colored history, but blame and resentment have a way of choking out anything good that might grow in a relationship.”
Why were women so adept at twisting things up into the worst possible conclusion? “You talk this crazy every Thursday night?” I asked, kissing her when I wanted to shake my head in frustration. Embrace the good at all costs, I’d heard someone say once, and I was going to do just that. “Listen to me, Emma,” I said against her mouth. “I love you. Nothing’s going to change that, a little jail time least of all, although no promises I won’t come out with facial tattoos and a bald head, looking ready to bench press a bus.”
She laughed, less sad this time. Something was finally getting through, but it was like trying to smash through a concrete barricade with a pencil. “But you’re going to lose everything you’ve worked for too. I try not to make it a habit of mingling with convicted felons,”—she lifted an eyebrow at me—“but it’s common knowledge that a mark like that stays on your record for awhile and makes employment difficult to ascertain.”
I wanted to shake my hands to the sky in exasperation. She was worried about me going away for all the wrong reasons. All I was worried about was not being able to kiss her until her, me, or both of us were senseless.
“The only thing I’m concerned about waiting for me outside of those exit gates is you,” I said, meaning it. My job didn’t require a clean record, Stanford could kick me out for all I cared,—I’d found exactly what I’d been looking for there—and I certainly didn’t need any more money. “Everything will be fine. Everything is fine now. Since I know you don’t believe it in your present state of woman crazy, can you just take my word for it?” It was asking a lot—trust wasn’t something that was easy to give away.
She touched my face, like perhaps she didn’t think it was real, until the trio of lines folded between her eyes smoothed. “Fine,” she said, blowing a chunk of hair off her forehead. “Now seems like a bad time to stop trusting you anyways, especially since I’m about to tell you I love you for the first time.”
I didn’t hear it right away. I mean, I heard it, I just didn’t process it. It was what put the surreal in life. Hearing someone loved you because they did, because they’d chosen to, not because they shared the same DNA as you, but because they’d observed, studied, and analyzed you, and they’d liked what they’d seen. They’d loved it.
“Do you think you could say that one more time?” I asked, turning my ear. “Just because I wasn’t expecting it and I really want to give myself over to the moment and this time I can at least brace myself for it?” I was rambling. Patrick Hayward was rambling like an idiot. And I didn’t care.
Looking at me, no, seeing me, Emma opened her mouth. “I love—”
I couldn’t wait for the third and final word. I was kissing her again, which felt a lot more like consuming, but it was a joint effort. Pressing against her, we took our kiss horizontal, the mattress molding around her while I held myself above her.
I didn’t want to brace my forearms on either side of her head, but the reminder of her bruised body stayed relatively in the front of my mind when nothing else did, so I held myself just above her, just barely against her.
Minutes passed, the kissing nowhere near cresting, when something that felt a lot like responsibility filtered its way through my male one track mindedness.
“Em?” I whispered, hoarse from our mouth marathon. “There’s one more thing I’m asking, asking, you to do,” I said, rolling onto my side next to her.
She rolled onto her elbow, pressing a peck to my mouth before replying, “What?”
“I need you to be strong,” I began, hoping I’d deliver this with as much strength as softness. “I need you to tell the cops everything. I need you to do what your mom didn’t. I need you to tell them everything Ty ever did to you, down to the last finger he laid on you.”
Against everything I’d prepared myself for, her face didn’t blanch white, her eyes didn’t fill with fear, her shoulders didn’t fall with doubt. Emma had found the strength I’d known was there the whole time.
“And there will probably be a trial, and you’ll have to tell the god-awful story all over again. And I know how hard it will be for you to relive, to admit to strangers you were abused by the person who should have loved you unconditionally, but you need to do this so the SOB gets locked away for awhile and gets a permanent mark on his record.” I ran my thumb down the side of her face, having to dodge bandages and stitches like it was an obstacle course. “So next time he’s raising his hand to the next girl who falls for his act, he’ll think twice. He’ll wonder if this girl is as strong as you are, able to stand up to him. To hold him accountable for his actions.” I kissed the tip of her nose, watching a tear fall on her cheek. I didn’t realize it was mine at first. “Lock him away, Emma. And then I swear to you, he’ll never hold any sway in your life again.”
Her hand slid into the curve of my neck and, somehow, I felt what she was going to say before she said it. “You didn’t need to ask, tell, or demand me to tell my story,” she said, peaceful like I’d never heard her. Peaceful like the silence after a thunder storm in the summer. “I gave Ty too much of my life, and I’m not going to give him any more. I’ll tell everyone on the face of the planet my story if that’s what it takes to be free of him. I don’t even care if he only serves a week. That’s one week he can’t hurt anyone else,” she said, inhaling. “I know if I’d had one week without having to live in fear of every moment alone with him, every word I said that could set him off, it would have been like paradise.”
I wanted to kiss her again, I wanted to do more than just kiss her, but I heard the sound I’d been listening for approaching at last. Ty hadn’t wasted any time telling his story, but I’d said what I needed to say and could face what was to come next with a ready heart.
“All right, Em,” I said, pulling her up with me so I could hold her one more time. “The cops are almost here.”
Turning her head, like she was trying to pick up the sirens, she said, “How do you know? I don’t hear a thing.”
“They’re a little over one mile away,” I said, opening Pandora’s box just a crack, just enough to plant the seed so that when I told her everything, that seed would have taken root and could be built upon.
“And you can hear them from a mile away?” There was nothing antagonistic about her voice, just curiosity. Asking for an explanation—one that I couldn’t give at this time of impending arrest.
“I can,” I said, moving right along to my closing point. “When they get here, don’t say a word. Okay? Once we’re gone, go to the nearest police station and make your report.”
“Since I’m a fan of efficiency and convenience, why can’t I just tell these cops, in the comfort of your home, what happened?” she asked, her fingers gripping into my back like she too was already experiencing the separation anxiety I was.
“These cops are coming to arrest a bad guy, not take a domestic violence report from a nice girl,” I said, steering us out of the bedroom because I didn’t want anyone busting down my front doors. “We need empathetic, non-biased cops on our side here and I promise you the ones about to come through that door won’t be.”
She could hear the sirens now—her head whipped towards the door like she was ready for an invasion and tear gas. Ever so slightly, so much so I could barely detect it, she started to tremble.
“This is no time to lose your courage now, Em,” I said, squeezing her shoulders. “Be brave. I promised you everything will be all right and that’s a promise I made with no maybes, no conditions. That’s a promise I’ll go to my grave to keep.” I looked hard at her, kissing her lips for the last time in what would be a while. The cops were already power-walking up the driveway—three of them. “Okay?”
“Okay,” she whispered, bobbing her head.
“I love you, Emma Scarlett,” I said, pressing my forehead against hers. “You make me every shade of crazy, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m coming back for you, and I better find you waiting for me because I don’t care what, why, or who it is, I’m not letting you go without a fight.”
A rapping that thundered into the room and made both of us snap to attention, whipping our heads towards the door.
I slid her a reassuring smile before turning and walking towards the door, but she didn’t let me go alone. She wouldn’t let me face this without her at my side. She was just as much my protector as I was hers, and that made me feel every kind of good a man could feel.
Resting my hand on the handle, I exhaled. Sliding her hand over mine, she gave it a squeeze and helped me get this over with.
“Patrick Hayward?” the cop sporting a buzz cut, a mastiff sneer, and a pair of handcuffs boomed as soon as the door was open.
I nodded, spinning a one eighty, my hands crossing together over my back.
“You’re under arrest for the aggravated assault of Ty Steel. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney.”
I smirked at the floor—my attorney was going to kick their attorney’s ass.
And then I looked back up at Emma. At her anxious face, but still peaceful eyes. I was going to jail for a crime I didn’t commit for a woman I loved. And I’d do it all over again. And I’d never been so bloody happy in my life before.
As officer bull mastiff started pulling on my freshly handcuffed wrists, I slid a smile into position, and I’d bet my fortune my eyes even twinkled. “Don’t worry about me, Em. No bars can keep me caged.”
THE END