Alexis
I was finding my rhythm in the weeks since I graduated. The mornings I spent at the playhouse and my afternoons I worked on my column and new material. I still took shifts at the diner because I had to contribute to our apartment, even if my offerings were meager. My hope was once the play released I could quit, provided it didn’t tank.
My new home was still a bit surreal. The building and the location were amazing. I hadn’t purchased anything for the apartment with the exception of a bed and bedding for the master bedroom and some things for the kitchen. I wanted to wait until Greyson and I could do it together.
I did bring my living room furniture from my apartment so I had something to use until we furnished our home. Our home. I really liked the sound of that. I had an idea for our bedroom and hoped Greyson could fit it into his schedule. As a graduation present, Paige and Grant bought me a laptop, so while watching television I worked on my novel—the one about Greyson and me. The one I wasn’t sure I’d ever show anyone, but loved working on.
The phone pulled me from the scene and I almost didn’t answer it, but it could be Greyson calling so I hurried to the kitchen.
“Hello.”
“Miss Owens, it’s Nathaniel Breen.”
It was funny how the human body responded to stimuli, like right now chills moved down my body from both excitement and fear. I even had trouble speaking, my voice no louder than a whisper when I replied, “Hello, Mr. Breen, how are you?”
“Nat, please. I’m well, thank you. I have some information regarding your parents. I wondered if you had time today to meet.”
“Yes,” I answered a little too quickly.
He chuckled before he suggested, “Could we meet here? Say in an hour?”
“I’ll be there.”
I tried really hard to calm down on the way to his office, but as I stood on the sidewalk just outside of it I wanted to throw up. I had theories on what happened to them, but if I stepped inside I wouldn’t get to pretend anymore, wouldn’t get to fill in the gaps with what I wanted the story to be. I needed to know; I had to move on one way or the other, so I took a deep breath and pulled open the door. Mr. Breen was waiting for me.
“It’s so good to see you, Alexis. It’s okay that I call you Alexis?”
“Yes, of course.”
He gestured to his office; I took a seat, he settled behind his desk. He opened a file and slid my picture across the table to me.
My hand shook when I reached for it. He saw when he said, “I won’t keep you waiting. I’m afraid I have some…” He removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. I knew what was coming before he said it. “I’m sorry to tell you that your mother died in a drive-by shooting when you were two.”
My hand moved to my locket, but I didn’t immediately acknowledge his words, because doing so would mean all the dreams I’d clung to—her coming for me, us sitting on my jetty for hours at a time talking, of her fixing my veil on my wedding day and holding my hand as I delivered my babies, those dreams would shatter. I looked at the picture, her smiling face and how tightly she held me. I knew, had always known, she was gone. The woman holding me, there was nothing that would have kept her from her child, nothing but death. Slowly, reality penetrated, I would never know her. I would never hear her voice or see her smile. All I had of her was this picture and her locket. The tears filled my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. Mr. Breen handed me a tissue, I curled my hand around it, but I kept my focus on her as I silently said goodbye.
“You were there.”
My head snapped up. “I was there?”
“From all the accounts I’ve read she shielded you.”
I traced her image. She died protecting me. She hadn’t abandoned me; she had given the ultimate sacrifice. I bit down on the sob. “What was her name?”
“Sade Ann Owens.”
I met Mr. Breen’s compassionate gaze. “Owens is my father’s name?”
“No, her maiden name.”
I liked that. It was fitting I should take her name. “And my father? Is he alive?”
“Yes, but I hesitate to give you his name. His lifestyle is dangerous to say the least.”
“Please.”
He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his neck before he relented. “Finn Levy.”
“He lives here, doesn’t he?”
A pregnant pause before he replied, “Yes.”
“Did I live here with them?”
“Yes. As you suspected, you were placed with the Raffertys here before you moved to California.”
Tears welled again as I lowered my head and studied my parents. I’d been drawn to New York because it was calling me home.
“Your foster parents were reluctant to tell you about your parents because they were encouraged strongly not to.”
“Encouraged by whom?”
“Your father.”
That insight made them marginally better, but not much. “Where does he live?”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Why not?”
“Your father is not…” He rubbed his neck again. How bad was it? “He is in the business of skirting the law.”
“What does that mean?”
Thwarted in his attempt to keep my dad’s information from me, he answered reluctantly, “He’s a member of Lucifer’s Warriors.”
A chill moved down my spine. “What’s that?”
“Only the most cutthroat motorcycle club on the east coast.” He announced then added, “Your father is the president.”
He knew something else. “What aren’t you telling me?”
He stopped fidgeting and met my gaze. “Your mom’s death was linked to his club. It’s why he gave you up, to get you out of his world.”
Curled up on my sofa, I studied the picture of my parents. Mom was so happy in it, so full of life, so young and to know she died not long after the photo was taken. The promise of a life we could have had, snatched away. My father believed he was responsible. His wife was killed because of him, so he pushed me as far from him as possible. Cut me from his life as efficiently as those bullets had cut her from ours. I wanted to rage, to scream and throw things, but I understood. As hard as it was to say, I understood why he acted as he had. He loved my mom, and she died because of him. How did someone come back from that? To know the one you loved most in the world was gone and they were only gone because of you. I stared into her eyes and accepted the truth. She was gone. The sob ripped from my throat as I let it out, everything I’d held in at Mr. Breen’s. My mom was dead.
It took a while for the tears to slow, but there was a large hole in my chest. I reached for my phone and called Greyson. I needed him. If anyone could get me through this he could, but the call went to voice mail. I wouldn’t leave him my news in a message. “Hey. Just wanted to say hi. I miss you. This apartment is way too big for one person. I’m counting the days.”
I hung up and called Paige.
“Hey you. Grant and I were just talking about you.”
“I met with Mr. Breen today.” My voice broke.
“Grant, grab the other line.”
“Alexis?” Grant’s worried voice came over the line.
“My mom was gunned down likely from shit related to the MC where my father is president. And he lives here in New York.”
“Oh Alexis.”
“I always hoped we’d find each other. I know they gave me up, but I really believed one day we’d be a family again; we’d be the people we were in that picture, just older. But she’s gone. She’s really gone. How can you miss someone you hardly knew?”
“We’re on the first plane out,” Grant said.
“No. I’m okay. You have the diner and the girls. I’m okay. I’ll be okay. Thank you for taking me in, for giving me a family. I don’t know that I’ve ever thanked you for that.”
Paige was crying. “Oh Alexis. You are family, never, ever forget that.”
“I love you.”
Even Grant’s voice broke. “We love you.”
Later that night the phone woke me.
“Alexis, what’s wrong?”
Greyson. Of course he would know something was wrong.
I was exhausted, had cried myself to sleep. I could have been more tactful when I answered him, but this was Greyson. “My mom is dead. My dad belongs to a ruthless MC, and he lives here in New York.”
“I’m on my way.”
I wanted to argue, but I didn’t.
“I have to tie up a few things, but I’ll be home by the end of the week. What can I do?”
“Just talk to me. I’m numb and exhausted and empty but hearing your voice makes it better.”
A slight pause before he said, “Ask me what I’m wearing.”
I grinned at the memory. “What are you wearing?”
“A speedo and I’ve shaved, hairless like one of those cats. And I’m oiled but I can’t sit down or I’ll stain the furniture and we’re only leasing it.”
I felt miserable and yet he made me laugh. “I love you.”
His voice warmed. “I know.”
“What color is this speedo?”
“What color do you want it to be?”
For the next hour, he took away the sadness by making me laugh.
I stood backstage in the small theater where my play, Monsters, was opening in the spring. The marquee was already up; the first time I saw it I lost track of time. I stood gaping and still I didn’t quite believe my eyes. Today, I didn’t stop to look. It had been two days since learning about my parents. I was dealing, but it was hard knowing the person who created me, the one I had so many questions for, was gone. I’d missed knowing her. That left a hole.
The lead actors who played the foster monsters didn’t have their costumes yet, and what costumes they were. The characters were actually depicted as monsters—they looked how my younger self had seen them. Howard had always reminded me of Oscar the Grouch. Exquisitely crafted costumes using bright fur from head to toe, but for their faces, which were painted so their expressions and mannerisms could be seen. I didn’t use actual examples of my foster monsters’ neglect but drew parallels from my own experiences and then twisted them with a comedic edge. Even knowing why they kept my parents from me, neglect was still neglect.
As I stood back stage, I watched the scene where the mommy and daddy monster were sitting in front of the television with their tray tables eating dinner while baby monster tried to get their attention. She ran through the house with scissors, played with matches, jumped around on the furniture but all of her antics went completely unnoticed. The scene ends with mommy and daddy monster shutting down the television, turning off the lights and going to bed while baby monster still stood in the middle of the room dressed like the Statue of Liberty, using the living room curtains and a Coleman lantern. I could find humor in it now, but when I was that little kid it hurt a lot.
I felt that sweet burn tickle my spine and turned to see Greyson. The hole in my heart grew smaller. We moved at the same time, crashing into each other, his arms coming around me to hold me tight.
“I’m sorry it took so long to get here.”
“You’re here now.”
He cradled my face and studied me. I saw his concern shining out of those wonderful eyes. “You’re hurting.”
“I am, but it hurts less with you here.”
“Let’s go somewhere and talk.”
“No.”
He arched his brow. “No?”
“Take me home, Greyson.” I pressed my mouth to his, “Make love to me.”
He didn’t have to be told twice. He took my hand and pulled me off the stage. We reached the lobby of the playhouse before he turned and pushed me against the wall. I had a moment to see the hungry look in his eyes before his mouth slammed down on mine. My purse dropped, my hands moved over him as I sought to touch as much of him as I could. As fast as he yanked me to him, he pulled away, retrieved my purse and continued to drag me from the building. He led me to a sexy black sports car, one very similar to the one we drove in Chicago. He practically closed the door on me before sliding across the hood and climbing in. His hand snaked around my neck, pulling my mouth to his for another searing kiss. We peeled from the curb.
Somehow we made it back to the apartment in one piece. He parked the car illegally. Rounded it, took my hand and tossed the keys to the doorman.
“Take care of that.”
He didn’t wait for an answer. His strides were so long I was practically running to keep up with him. Once the elevator doors closed, he crushed his mouth on mine as he worked to get my blouse off. My fingers fumbled as I tried to yank his shirt over his head, his mouth pulling from me only long enough so I could discard it. The elevator opened and we stumbled into the foyer.
“Your shoes,” I breathlessly whispered that complaint before finding the crook of his neck and sinking my teeth in. He growled and lifted me into his arms. He managed to keep kissing me while he punched in the code for the door. He shut the door with his foot.
“Tell me you bought a bed,” he demanded.
“King-size.”
He growled again, low in his throat, before taking the steps two at a time.
“Don’t you want the tour?” I teased.
“After.”
Greyson
We left a trail of clothes to the bedroom. I tossed her on the bed and landed on top of her. I saw the chain around her neck and followed it until I found the locket. My eyes moved from the locket to her face.
“My mother’s.”
“From your dad.”
“A graduation present.”
That sadness was back. I could take that away, at least for a little while, so I kissed her, devoured her; her taste was my drug and I’d been without it for too long. She spread her legs in invitation and I didn’t make her wait, filling her in one powerful thrust. My mouth closed over her breast, her hands moved over my body, squeezing my ass. Our hips moved together, the sound of our skin slapping together and the scent of our arousal filled the room. I grabbed her thighs, lifted her hips and pounded into her.
I was home.
She came on a moan. I came right after her.
I dropped my head on her shoulder. I fucking missed this.
“Welcome home, Greyson.”
My head lifted, her bright eyes made my heart ache in a good way. As soon as possible, I wanted my ring on her finger.
“What are you thinking,” she asked, brushing my hair from my face.
“I love you.”
She moved her hips. “I know.”
Wrapping my arm around her waist, I flipped us so she straddled me. Sliding my hands over her body, I cupped her breasts. They were perfect, just like the rest of her. She closed her eyes and drew her lower lip between her teeth. I jerked my hips and she moaned. She took her time riding my cock. I was so hard it hurt, but I let her play until I couldn’t take anymore and rolled her to her back. Her legs wrapped around my waist and I hammered into her until we both came.
We were in the living room, sitting on the floor. Alexis was wearing my tee. I had pulled on my jeans.
“My stuff is arriving tomorrow.”
“We need furniture.”
“Yeah.” I looked around at the space. As soon as I saw it, I knew this was home. “I think we should be sparse though.”
“I agree. I like all the open space. And that room in the back is perfect for you.”
“Yeah.”
I brushed the hair from her face, ran my thumb along her cheek. She was trying, but the sadness behind her eyes was killing me. “Talk to me.”
“I don’t understand how I can miss her so much when I don’t even remember her.”
“She was your mom. She loved you, you lost her.”
“I always hoped we’d be a family again and it hurts to know we never will be.” Her voice broke. I pulled her close, pressing her face to my chest. I ached for her, wished I could take her pain, but all I could do was hold her, love her, show her she wasn’t alone and never would be again.
“I want to visit her grave. Mr. Breen shared where she was buried. He doesn’t think I should visit, but I need to.”
“I’ll take you.”
“I want to visit my father.”
“Okay.”
She glanced up at me. “No objections?”
“No, but we’ll need to proceed carefully with him. I’d like to look into his MC, get a feel for what we’re getting into.”
“Okay.”
I grinned. “No objections?”
“No.”
Even with the smile, there was pain burning brightly in her dark eyes. Cradling her face in my hand, I kissed her and filled it with everything she made me feel. Lowering her to her back, I spent the next hour doing all I could to remove that sadness.
Alexis
I woke in the morning; stretched and ached in places I hadn’t ached in a long time.
Greyson.
I reached for him, but his side of the bed was empty. Yesterday, he didn’t push when it came to my dad and he didn’t go all cavemen when I said I wanted to meet him despite the danger. He had been exactly what I needed him to be. My heart still hurt, but it hurt less.
Reaching for his pillow, I inhaled his scent. He was here. His scent was on the sheets. I only needed to walk from my room to find him. The memory came back so clearly, biology that first day and my scripted story of our romance rivaling the greatest romances of history and how our meeting was the beginning of the rest of our lives. We were there, at the start of something beautiful.
Climbing from bed, I pulled on his tee and went in search of him. He was in the kitchen making coffee. He had pulled on his jeans, his bare back to me. I leaned against the counter and couldn’t control the smile. Every morning I would get to wake up next to him, I’d get to see him just like that making coffee. It was very surreal when a dream came true.
“Are you just going to stare,” he teased.
“It doesn’t feel real.”
He turned and pushed his hands into his pockets. “I woke and spent the first hour just watching you sleep.”
A person shouldn’t be so happy. “Next time wake me up.”
“How are you?”
“It hurts less today than it did yesterday. That’s thanks to you.”
Tenderness swept his face, but turned wicked when he eyed me from head to toe. “What are you wearing under my tee?”
I lifted it a little. “Nothing.”
He moved so fast, lifting me over his shoulder. His hand moved to my bare ass where he squeezed. I laughed the whole way to our bedroom.
Greyson and I set up his studio. He had crates and crates filled with paintings that were each one more beautiful than the next. He was also working on a sculpture. The ones I had seen at his shows were amazing, how he twisted metal and molded clay and carved stone, so I was more than a little surprised, and disappointed, that I couldn’t see this one. In fact, I wasn’t even allowed to touch it. It stood in the far corner of the studio, covered by a large sheet.
While he worked on setting up his paints, I sat on the floor going through his paintings. Most were landscapes in the cities he had visited during his touring years—a street in Paris, a gondola in Venice, a vineyard in Tuscany.
“These are beautiful. Why aren’t these in the shows?”
When he didn’t answer I looked over to find him watching me. “I painted those for you. You couldn’t be with me, so I brought the places to you.”
Just when I thought I couldn’t love him more. “I love you.”
His smile stilled my heart. “I know.”
“Is there a place in your travels you really want to see again? I am ready and willing to travel.”
“If you are willing to travel, let’s go to Ireland. You can see Grandfather, the estate.”
I was teasing about traveling. I only wanted to be where he was, but seeing his home, seeing Callum again. I really wanted to do that. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah. Once we get settled, I’ll call Grandfather and arrange it.”
“I’d love that. Speaking of places, I have a request.”
“Anything.”
“Would you recreate the bluffs on our bedroom wall?”
His expression softened as he remembered too. “Yeah, I can do that.”
“I don’t want to take you from your commissions, so whenever you can fit it in.”
“I’ll start it today.”
Greyson
I moved the mattress to another room. I didn’t want Alexis seeing this until it was done. I stood back and studied the scene coming to life on the wall. It was so easy to go back, to remember her at sixteen and how my heart raced in my chest and my palms itched to touch her.
My cell rang. I wasn’t going to answer it until I saw Colin’s name. He stayed in San Francisco. Unlike when we first started, he didn’t need to follow me. Technology made it very easy to continue to work together even being on opposite coasts.
“Hey, Colin.”
“Hello, Greyson. How are you settling in?”
I woke with her hair on my pillow and her scent on me. I was fucking settling in just fine.
“We’re great. A long time coming.”
“I’m happy to hear that. I do have some opportunities for you. I’ll send you an email.”
“Sounds great.”
“Your fan mail is piling up. I’m sending it to you, but that’s actually why I’m calling.”
There was an odd note in his voice. “Is something wrong?”
“There was one letter that was, well unpleasant to put it nicely. I found a letter on similar stationery in your desk when I packed it up.”
I’d forgotten all about that disturbing letter. “I’d gotten that right before Grandfather’s accident. Did you read it?”
“I did. I hope that is okay.”
“Yeah, is this other the same?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Concern twisted in my gut. “Was there a postmark?”
“No and no return address.”
“So whoever is delivering them is doing it by hand.” That was a good thing. They were in San Francisco and I was clear across the country. Alexis was clear across the country. “Can you send them to me?”
“Yes. May I ask what you intend?”
“I want to have them in case I need to go to the cops.”
“It’s part of the package, the unwanted attention, the unsettling letters, but I have to say these bother me more than any I’ve read. I think caution is wise.”
I didn’t like it, not with Alexis coming back into my life. I wasn’t giving her up, no fucking way. I waited too long to be with her, but I didn’t like the thought of her in harm’s way because of me. If needed, I’d hire someone to look into it, but my hope was it wouldn’t get that far.
“I’ll be cautious.”
“Excellent. I will get these in the post immediately. Please send my regards to Alexis. And check your email for the upcoming events and let me know if you are interested in any of them.”
“Thanks, Colin.”
“Talk soon.”
I dropped my phone on the floor. I wasn’t really worried about the letters and I sure as hell wasn’t going to think about them now. Life was too sweet to think about the sour.
Alexis
Greyson worked on the mural for two weeks. We took another bedroom because I wasn’t allowed to see it until it was done. Day and night, he was in our room. I was in the living room working one night when he joined me. He wore a bandana when he painted so his hair stayed out of his face. I loved that he had grown his hair out. I had missed those long locks. The boxes from Callum were spread around the room as I organized while reading.
“Are these my family’s files?”
“Yes.” I patted the sofa next to me. “The legend Callum shared with us about the green diamond, do you believe it’s real?”
He settled next to me and I handed him the photograph of one of his ancestors, an image he likely was very familiar with since the original was life-size and hung in the portrait gallery of his home.
“I don’t know, but my ancestors believed in it.”
“The diamond is here in his sword and in these…” I pulled out two photographs of Ratcliffe women who were wearing the diamond, which had been crafted into a brooch. “Why only two of your ancestors and not every Ratcliffe woman?”
“I don’t know.”
“I do.”
His eyes found mine as a grin curved his lips. “You are enjoying this.”
“I am. I’ve always loved a good story, and Greyson, you have an incredible story in your ancestry. The diamond became a sort of testament to love. If a Ratcliffe man was marrying for love and not duty, on their wedding day he gave his betrothed the diamond.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. It’s kind of sad. All the generations of Ratcliffes and only two unions were love matches. Duty bound to continue the bloodline the rest of your ancestors chose the continuation of family over love. I get it. I mean, it’s incredible to have a lineage that dates back to the thirteen hundreds, but I guess I never realized to maintain a lineage like that there has to be sacrifices.”
Greyson studied the images of his ancestors. “What happened to the diamond? Have you read anything in those papers?”
“No. After the fire, the diamond went missing. I could just be filling in reality with fantasy as I have a habit of doing, but what if the fire was started as a diversion so someone could steal the diamond?”
“Sounds feasible.”
“I believe it’s real. I believe all of it. Had I not met you, I might not have been inclined to believe in a love like that, but I’m living it.”
He touched my cheek. “The bedroom is done.”
“What?” I jumped from the sofa. “It’s done and you let me rattle on. Come on.” I grabbed his hand.
He stood, but instead of heading to our bedroom, he yanked me close and kissed me hard on the mouth. And only after my legs turned to noodles and my insides to mush did he lead me upstairs. As soon as I saw our walls, I was transported back. Not just to Mendocino, but to the past…our past. It was the bluff; every detail lovingly recreated—the crashing surf, the rock cliffs, the sea grass blowing in the breeze, the spray of the water. Even the gulls.
The swell of love had my voice a little rough when I said, “It’s exactly how I remember it.”
“Not exactly,” he whispered.
He pulled me down to the floor and covered my body with his. “Now, it’s exactly how I remember it.”
“We need furniture. I love my futon, but it doesn’t work in here.” Greyson and I were lying on said futon, my back to his chest, watching television. We hadn’t left the apartment since he arrived. It had been two weeks of nothing but loving, eating and sleeping. The best two weeks ever.
“You told me once you’d show me your city, do you remember that?”
“Yes.” And I loved that he did too.
He glanced down and grinned. “So show me your city.”
We’d been to the Statue of Liberty, The Met and The New York Library. I offered to take him to the American Girl store, but he declined. Instead, he wanted to see Coney Island, but first we stopped for lunch.
“Do you trust me?”
He grinned at the memory. “Yes.”
I ordered two Nathan’s hot dogs and two lemonades. “No toppings needed. Trust me.”
We ate while we walked. “You’re right. These are fucking delicious.”
“What do you want to do first?” I asked. He didn’t answer, just took my hand and pulled me along.
“I’m going to be sick,” I held my stomach. Going on a rollercoaster after eating a hot dog was not smart.
Greyson was like a kid in a candy store. The dude was an adrenaline junky. “We have to go again. Are you really feeling sick?”
I hadn’t seen this side of him even when we were kids. I loved it, totally worth the upset stomach. “No, I’m good.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yep. I didn’t know you liked amusement parks so much.”
“I’ve never been to one.”
“So this is a first.”
“Yeah, and it’s fucking awesome.”
It was, more so watching how much he was enjoying it. To think we had a lifetime of firsts. The need to pinch myself was back. “I look forward to sharing more firsts with you, Mr. Ratcliffe.”
He jerked his head to me, then pulled me close to kiss me senseless and I was fairly brain dead when he finished.
“Rollercoaster,” he said against my lips.
He could have led me anywhere and I would have gone happily.
We rode the rollercoaster three more times before we decided to head to the Empire State Building. On our way Greyson said cryptically, “We need to make a stop.”
A tattoo parlor was our stop. Inside, the guy behind the counter called Greyson by name. “Perfect timing, Greyson. We’re all set up.”
“Set up for what?”
“I’m getting a tattoo.”
That was news to me. “You are?”
The artist, Tiggs, took a transparency and pressed it to Greyson’s left arm, the inside near his heart. It was a seagull in flight holding sea grass and the sea grass spelled my name. Us forever inked on his skin.
My bright eyes met his. “I love it.”
He brushed my lips with his thumb then settled back in the chair. “All right, let’s do this.”
For the next hour I watched as Greyson branded himself for me.
“Harder, please Greyson, harder.” We never made it to the Empire State Building. We hadn’t even made it into our apartment. In the foyer off the elevator, I attacked him. I wanted to kiss his tattoo, that had to wait, but being pressed up against the wall as Greyson drilled his cock into me was fucking fantastic.
I grabbed his hair and yanked his head to mine, my tongue pushed into his mouth, my hips following his lead as he drove us both wild.
I came on a scream, muffled by Greyson’s tongue in my mouth. He came right after me. His powerful body went still as a moan burned up his throat.
He dropped his head on my shoulder. “I need to catch my breath.”
“We need to do that again,” I countered.
Pale eyes lifted to me. “I’m taking you like the tattoo.”
“I love the tattoo.”
His big hand covered my breast. I pressed into his touch and bit my lip as pleasure coiled in my gut. He looked wicked when he said, “I’m ready for round two.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Greyson asked while we waited at a stoplight. We were on the way to see my mother. I was born in the Bronx, lived on Earley Street for the first two years of my life. On the way to the cemetery we were driving by my old house. The place where I believe I had been happy, loved, the place where my mother had died protecting me.
“Yes.”
He reached for my hand and though I knew he had his reservations, he didn’t push his will on me.
“Thank you.” He glanced over. “For being here, for letting me see this through, for having your opinions but not forcing them on me.”
“Don’t thank me just yet. I know what else is going on in that head of yours. Seeing your house, your mom, I get. Poking a fucking tiger, I’m not going to be as accommodating.”
I wanted to see my father’s clubhouse or whatever it was called. Hoped I’d get a glimpse of the man in my photo.
“We won’t get out of the car.”
“From what I’ve read about your father’s gang or club or whatever, they’re criminals. I’m not talking stealing cars and shit, I’m talking trafficking in drugs, murder. If the rumors are to be believed, they are not people you want to know.”
I couldn’t believe that of the man in my picture, but after losing everything he loved I supposed it was possible he chose to live recklessly if he believed he had nothing left to live for.
“If we believe he left you to keep you safe, you showing up right in the middle of his fucked up world is not going to win you any points with him.”
“He doesn’t need to know we’re there.”
“People living in his world, they have to know everything as a means of survival. Hell, he probably already knows you’re living in New York.”
The idea my dad had kept tabs on me over the years had my heart hammering. Despite what he had become, a man would only do that if he cared. “You think he’s been watching?”
“I shouldn’t have said that.”
“But you think he’s kept me on his radar.”
“Yes, if for no other reason than to keep you away.”
My focus shifted outside. Greyson’s words were meant to discourage me, but I wasn’t at all. I was going to know my dad, whether my dad liked it or not.
My house was a little brick house with a covered porch sitting on a postage-stamp sized lawn. It was a happy looking house on a happy street, marred by violence that changed at least three lives irrevocably.
I stood on the street in front of the house and tried to picture my parents walking over the threshold after they married, sitting on the porch, Mom ripe with me as Dad touched her belly talking to me. I was using my imagination but somehow I knew it had been like that. Love, between them, for me. And then I thought of the bullets that ripped through her as she stood protecting me. All that love, all that promise over in a blink of an eye.
Greyson wiped the tears from my cheeks then pulled me close, silently offering his strength.
“I’m ready,” I offered after a while. This wasn’t my house; it was a memory, one that I could tuck away and recall when I wanted to remember.
He pressed a kiss on my head then led me to the car. We drove in silence to the graveyard. I was mentally preparing myself. Seeing our house had been hard, but I was going to my mom’s grave. She was there, physically, but maybe her spirit roamed the graveyard, restless because she had unfinished business. Maybe this reunion would put her at ease, allow her to move on. I knew it was what I was hoping to get out of it.
For the city, the cemetery was quiet. Big oak trees and hills of green spread out before us as we drove along the curving road to the caretaker’s office. Greyson kept the car idling while running in to get her plot location. My focus was out the window, my fingers twisting together. There was a weight in my chest that grew heavier the closer we got. It would make it real, seeing her name etched on the stone. Her final resting place.
Greyson pulled the car to the side of the road and shut it off. I reached into my purse and pulled out the very first journal I ever wrote, the one that told the tale of my imaginary friend Emily. I wanted to leave my mom something of me. I thought it fitting to give her the very first stories I ever wrote.
Greyson insisted on photocopying the journal; he took the book to the library and photocopied it himself. It was the little things, the small acts of love that left me breathless.
I climbed from the car, Greyson reached for my hand as I came around it. Silently we walked to her stone. I held his hand tighter when we reached a stone of an angel resting over the top of a heart. The inscription was the last straw, my legs crumbled under me as I sank down next to her grave and silently wept.
Sade Owens-Levy
1962-1982
Beloved Wife and Devoted Mother
You were an angel among us
but now you’re home
Greyson’s strong arms came around me. My fingers twisted his shirt as a lifetime of heartache broke free. She loved me. I didn’t appreciate the gravity of that until seeing her grave. She was so young when she died, younger than I was now. She had only been at the beginning. I don’t know how long I wept at her graveside. Greyson never let me go, held me until I cried myself dry. I pulled from the safety of his arms, glanced up into his compassion filled eyes then turned to my mom’s stone.
I ran my fingers over her name. “I’m here, Mom. I found you. I love you. I’ve loved you my whole life. I kept you close and I always will.” I placed the journal on her grave. “A piece of me.” I wiped at my cheeks. “One day we’ll meet again. I love you, Mom.”
Greyson
My fucking heart was breaking. Alexis’ focus was out the side window. She’d been quiet since leaving the cemetery, but seeing her weeping at her mother’s grave, holding her body as it shook with sobs, was so damn hard knowing there was nothing I could do to ease that pain.
She wanted to meet her dad, but I wasn’t on the same page. He lived through the loss of his wife; he cut his daughter from his life to keep her out of his world. He knew the dangers and as much as it hurt Alexis to lose her parents, I respected the man for having the balls to give her up. I hoped I would have the strength to do the very same if ever my lifestyle put the ones I loved in danger.
“I want to see him.”
I could hear the tears in her voice.
“We won’t get out of the car. I just want to see a part of his world.”
I didn’t like it, but I acquiesced.
Lucifer’s Warriors clubhouse wasn’t much to look at, a brick, single story building. There was a detached four-car garage at the back of the lot and a fence that enclosed the entire property. Motorcycles were parked in the front and muscle cars and newer model pickups in the parking lot that spanned the side. Two flags hung from the pole, the American flag and just under that their club’s flag.
She didn’t pull her gaze from the window, hoping for a glimpse of her father.
“Are you a bad person if you do bad things?” she asked.
“Depends.”
“Do you think my dad is a bad person?”
“He gave you up to protect you, he loved your mother, honored her even in death. No, I don’t think he’s a bad person.”
“But he’s dangerous.”
“Yes, as is the world he lives in.”
She reached for my hand and linked our fingers. The sadness in her eyes was so prominent but she tried for a smile. “I’m ready to go home.”
I brought her hand to my lips and pressed a kiss in her palm. She held that hand in her other, curled her fingers around my kiss. I couldn’t give her back her parents, but I could give her a family. One that stemmed from the kind of love her dad had for her and her mom, a selfless and powerful love. Now wasn’t the time, her heart was broken; I would do everything in my power to mend it and then I’d put my ring on her finger.
Alexis
“You seriously aren’t buying furniture? You’re keeping this sea of bean bags?”
The twins moved to New York after their graduation. Their apartment was a loft in Soho. It was a great location and a great building, but they insisted on decorating like they were still in college. I loved they were here. Having family close helped ease the pain of losing my mom that still lingered and I suspected always would.
“Why spend money on furniture. I’d rather use it for gaming systems or computers,” Dylan stated as if it were obvious. Spoken like the geeks they were. “Besides your place is so fancy, we’ll just hang with you.”
Greyson made a sound in the back of his throat. He liked the twins, but he didn’t want them popping over whenever they wanted. We were still christening the apartment.
“I haven’t seen your face at the checkout counter lately. What’s up with that? Did you get tired of the spotlight already?” Dominic asked.
“Bugger off,” Greyson grumbled. “My agent wanted me to do those shoots, wanted the press. I’m done with that now.”
“So you don’t like having beautiful women stuffing their numbers in your pocket.”
“The only beautiful woman I want is right here.”
I grinned. Good answer.
“Yeah, yeah, we get that, but proximity my friend. You don’t want them, Dylan and I are willing to take one for the team.”
“You’d want a woman that forward?” To me, the women seemed a bit desperate.
“Not to marry, but to roll around in the sheets, hell yeah.”
I stood and started for the kitchen. I was hungry. They had to have something and hopefully not shelves of Pop-Tarts. “I’m happy you have such high standards.”
Dominic called after me, “We can’t all land a hot celebrity.”
“Bullocks,” Greyson swore but it was drowned out by Dylan’s laughter.