Alexis 2016
I didn’t understand how he was so calm. I wanted to throw up. It was the premiere of his exhibit; we were hosting a small cocktail party before we made our way to The Met. Our family was here, everyone but Mr. and Mrs. Cantenelli. Mr. C. had the flu. Poor man was bedridden. Paige joined me in the kitchen as I plated finger foods.
“How is he so calm?” Paige asked.
“I don’t know. I’m freaking out.”
“You look beautiful though. I love that dress.”
I did too. It was an extravagance, the beaded cowl-back gown in pale blue, but one Greyson insisted on when he saw me in it. “It’s decadent, but it feels like a dream on. And you all sexy in peacock blue.” A form fitting sheath, which on Paige with her figure was seriously sexy.
“Grant loves this dress.”
“I can see why. Tara and Mandy are growing up so fast. And Heather, I hardly recognized her. The twins love that she’s following in their footsteps and going to Berkley next year.”
Paige shuddered teasingly, “Seriously, they rubbed off on her big time.”
“Is Tara still loving her work at the publishing house?” I asked.
Tara moved to San Francisco after she graduated, got an entry-level position at one of the big publishing houses, but she was a workhorse like her dad so she climbed quickly.
“She has ten full-time clients, edits on the side. She loves it.” Paige knocked her shoulder into mine. “She takes after you.”
I guess she kind of did. That felt good.
“Mandy has got feelers out for teaching positions. She’d like to stay on the West Coast, but it depends on what’s available. What about you? No news on the baby front?” Mandy was finishing her undergraduate degree in early child development. Where the hell had the time gone?
Baby, it was the only shadow in the brightness of my life. As much as Greyson and I tried, and we tried a lot, we hadn’t gotten pregnant. I was thirty-six. We were running out of time. That hurt, and there was the added guilt of not continuing the Ratcliffe name, that it would end with us. I hated thinking that, so I tried to stay hopeful.
“No, but we’re still trying.”
“It’ll happen. I really do believe that. And women are having healthy babies later in life. You still have time.”
“I hope so.”
“Okay.” Paige took one platter; I took the other. “Let’s feed these people and then get to this shindig.”
Greyson
It was a little surreal, being here, walking through the exhibit that featured my work. The greatest of the greats had graced the walls of these prestigious halls. That I was now amongst them was humbling. Alexis hadn’t let go of my hand, her face beaming with pride. It wasn’t the fanfare or the beautiful people. She was a bundle of restless happy energy for me. That was even more humbling, deserving the love of this woman.
Callum and Colin joined us as Alexis studied one of my favorite paintings. It was of the moor where Mom used to ride. Lady was off center, grazing on the grass as mist rolled over the hills. Most didn’t see it, but the mist took shape in the negative space. I didn’t even realize I’d done it, those ghosts the housemaids were always whispering about.
“Your parents would be so proud, Greyson. They knew it, from when you were just a little kid, they knew one day you would be here.” Callum couldn’t hide his own pride. That was humbling too.
Alexis pressed her face into my arm to hide her tears. I had them burning the back of my eyes too. “I wouldn’t be here if not for both of you. This is as much a tribute to you as it is for me.”
“Nonsense, but kind of you to say.” So like Colin to be humble. “I think a whiskey is in order,” Colin added, turning to Grandfather who never declined a good Irish whiskey.
Grandfather kissed Alexis on the cheek then turned to me and winked. “We’ll see you later. Enjoy your moment.”
Alexis pressed closer, one hand linked with mine, the other curled around my bicep. I wanted a moment with her so I led her to a quiet corner.
“This is incredible. The best day of your life I bet,” she offered, her focus on the people crowding the exhibit room.
Her hair was up; a few strands fell from the knot and that beauty mark that drove me crazy teased me. “No, not the best day of my life.”
Smiling eyes turned from the scene to me then warmed because my girl could read me too. I played with the few loose strands then met her gaze. “Our wedding day was the best day of my life.”
Her expression softened. “For me too.”
“The day we played hooky ranks up there.” I leaned in and caught her bottom lip between my teeth. “The day I showed you a new way to appreciate laundry is also high on my list.”
Her cheeks heated at the memory. “That was a really good day.”
“What do you say we get out of here and find a diner that makes hot fudge sundaes?”
Her smile was answer enough.
Reaching for my phone I called Grant. “Meet us at the door. We’re going for sundaes.”
“You really want to leave this,” Alexis asked as she gestured to the sight, and it was a pretty spectacular sight. One I was deeply honored by, but I wanted to be around family because that would make this near perfect night, perfect.
“Yeah. The girls have to catch us up on what’s new.”
She pressed a kiss on my mouth. “I love you.”
“I know.”
Ten minutes later we were leaving the gala, I glanced back and felt lucky to call these people my family. Callum and the twins were laughing about something. Paige and Colin were walking together, heads close. Grant was with his girls, all talking at once and Alexis; she was holding my hand tightly in hers. Life was good. Life was really fucking good.
It sounded like a car backfiring; Alexis’ hand pulled from mine. I turned to her; her expression was one of confusion and pain, her hands moving to her stomach where red was blooming over the pale blue. It all happened in slow motion and then it all sped up. Grant appeared, his arms going around someone. I saw a gun drop to the concrete. Paige was screaming, the girls were crying and Alexis was on the ground, blood pooling around her. It didn’t seem real.
“Alexis!” I didn’t know I was screaming her name until the crowd formed. I knew what it felt like when your heart and soul died because that was how I felt. Her beautiful eyes were closed; the hand that had just been holding mine was covered in blood.
“NO!” I roared and dropped down next to her and took her hand. “Call a fucking ambulance.” I couldn’t see her chest moving. I felt for a pulse, it was so weak. I offered my own life for hers in that moment.
“I’m here, beautiful. Please don’t leave me. Come back; come back to me. Open those eyes. I need to see you. Please…” Tears streamed down my face. She was so still. My Alexis wasn’t here. I dropped my head and begged, “Let me see you.”
The sirens came. I stepped back only far enough to let them work, my focus on her hand that wore my rings, the symbol of our lives together, unmoving, lifeless. I willed her to live. I would give anything, absolutely anything for her to open her eyes.
“We’ve got a pulse. It’s weak but we’ve got one.”
I cried harder. “That’s it, beautiful. Fucking fight, fight baby, please.”
I didn’t let them say no, pushing into the ambulance, taking her hand as the paramedic tried to stabilize her. There was so much blood.
“She’s coding.” He pushed me out of the way and started chest compressions. I wanted to wake up because this had to be fucking nightmare, it couldn’t be real. My girl was not in this fucking ambulance fighting for her life. He got a pulse just as we were pulling into the ER. I never let go of her hand until I had to. I stood, covered in her blood and watched as they wheeled the best part of me away.
Our family poured into the ER minutes later. Paige ran right into me and grabbed my face as tears ran down hers. “She’s going to live through this.”
I yanked her into my arms. I needed to hold onto something because I was cracking apart.
The cops appeared, Grant with them. It came then, the rage. Who the fuck shot Alexis?
“I’m sorry, Mr. Ratcliffe, but we need to ask you some questions.” My hands unconsciously curled into fists. I couldn’t focus; I didn’t want to answer fucking questions I wanted to be with Alexis.
“I know this is difficult but the more we know,” the cop urged.
I fucking didn’t know anything except that my wife was fighting for her fucking life. Colin approached, I’m glad he did because I was close to punching the officer. Not his fault, but bad fucking timing. I walked away, thinking of nothing but Alexis. Her beautiful smiling face, holding my hand one minute and the next…
I dropped into a chair, holding my head in my hands because it took too much effort to keep it upright. I hadn’t cried since my parents died, but I cried and prayed and offered everything and anything that my girl would pull through.
The wait was killing me, the soft mumbling of voices in the waiting room, the swing of the emergency room doors, one catching in the slide and grinding open then closed. The smell of stale coffee, sweat and tears. You could smell fucking tears. I had them all over me—mine, Paige’s, the girls, even Grant and the twins. Seeing her lying there, the blood, so still, so lifeless. I didn’t know what I would do if she didn’t live. How did you come back from that? I had to be positive, but I was fucking human and I saw her code in the ambulance. I watched her die right in front of me. I dropped my head in my hands; those fucking tears started again.
It felt like fucking eternity, but it was probably only about an hour after Alexis was brought in that the emergency doors opened followed by the sound of heavy footsteps. I glanced over to see as four bikers entered. The same leather cut, the same hard glare, and that look in their eyes that said they’d done and seen everything. I recognized the blue glare, the spiky black hair. He was older, harder but it was Alexis’ father. He had been watching her. My eyes burned. She would love to know that. His gaze hit me like a fucking punch in the gut before he prowled into the waiting room.
“Where is she?” he demanded.
Grant and the twins rose from their seats and flanked me. I appreciated the gesture, but if things got ugly we didn’t stand a chance.
“Surgery.”
“What the fuck happened?”
It was the unspoken accusation that I was in any way responsible; that my beautiful Alexis was fighting for her life and I had somehow played a part that had rage overruling common sense. I got right in his face. “Be very careful.”
The biker with a tattoo curling around his neck, moved in. “Or what?”
It was in my eyes; if Alexis died, I had nothing left to lose.
Her dad lifted his hand, the signal for his bulldog to back off. “Maybe we should take this somewhere else.”
We walked to the chapel. I didn’t know why I went there and not the cafeteria. I wasn’t a religious person, but it kind of felt like Alexis’ fate rested with a higher power. The wooden pews were empty as I walked deeper into the room.
“What happened?”
“I’m Greyson. Alexis’ husband.”
“I know.”
“I met her at sixteen. I was sitting on her jetty…” I chuckled remembering that day. “It was a public beach, the rocks fair game, but it was her spot. I was drawn to those rocks. I thought at first it was the view, but I think now it was her. I felt her first. You know that sixth sense you get? It was like that, but not a brush of awareness. It was a punch. She was holding the handles of the ugliest bike I have ever seen, but she was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. I fell in love in that second and I have loved her every second of every day since.” I met his gaze then. “My beautiful girl is fighting for her life. Someone shot her. She was so full of life one minute and…” I sat and dropped my head in my hands. “She loves you.”
I felt his stare, but I didn’t look up. “She even understands why you left, but she has missed you. Has felt the loss of you every day since you left. You need to make that right.”
“It’s not that easy.” He sat down next to me, like the weight of the world was forcing him to his knees. “I wish it were, but it’s not that easy. She’s going to pull through this and she’ll have you to help her find her way back.”
“Yeah she will.”
He offered his hand, he wasn’t the biker now, he was a father. “I’m Finn.” He didn’t release my hand, waiting for my attention. “I’ve been able to stay away because she’s in good hands.”
“You aren’t staying.” I already knew the answer.
“Only until she’s out of surgery. She has a long road ahead of her, throwing me into the mix would be selfish.”
“I do understand why you’ve stayed away, but she’s your daughter and you only live life once. You’re missing so much.”
His eyes turned away and a vulnerability settled over him, something I was sure his club members never saw. “It’s been thirty-four years and still I feel the loss of Sade like it was yesterday. She’s gone. I met her at sixteen too, the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. I lost her at twenty. I got four years with the love of my life before she was taken from me and still I love her, miss her, mourn her.” His blue gaze shifted and I saw his pain. “I won’t be responsible for the death of the only other person I love.” And yet as we sat there he was thinking as I was. Was he responsible for Alexis getting shot?
We sat in that chapel for hours. What we needed to say had been said and when the doctor found us to share that Alexis had pulled through the surgery, Finn left. Alexis’ father was a ghost of a man living on the outside of his own life and yet it was his own choices that put him there. I wasn’t sure I planned on telling her of his visit because the news would only bring her more pain.
The machines were the only noise in the room. The twins were sleeping in the chairs; Paige and Grant were asleep too on a sofa the nurses let us bring in. The girls were taking shifts, getting people food and coffee. I sat at Alexis’ bedside holding her hand. She lived through the surgery, but she hadn’t woken up. The bullet nicked her stomach and destroyed her spleen, but it missed her spinal cord. There were also neurology problems, at a minimum a concussion. They wouldn’t know the extent until she woke. The fact that she lived through the surgery was nothing short of a miracle. She needed to rest; she needed to gather her strength, her body needed to heal. She’d wake up, my girl would wake up, and I would sit here until she did.
I pressed a kiss on her hand. “Take all the time you need, beautiful. I’m not going anywhere.”
Alexis
I felt like I was swimming in a vat of oil, struggling to keep my head afloat but losing the battle. My body ached and still I struggled. I managed to open my eyes. The light hurt them. Confusion brought panic until I felt Greyson right before he appeared in my line of sight.
“Alexis?”
I couldn’t talk and I struggled to see him. He looked broken.
He was gone, but I heard his voice. “She’s awake.”
It all felt like a dream, unfocused and elusive. A man appeared, the doctor. “You gave us quite the scare. I’m going to take the tube out, okay?”
I nodded. It hurt coming out.
“Don’t try to talk just yet.”
I motioned for a glass of water. Greyson immediately filled one and helped me drink it.
I tried to stay with Greyson, needed to assure him I was okay, but the darkness took me again. It was two weeks later that I was finally able to stay awake for any duration.
My family stood in my hospital room; bright flower arrangements were on every horizontal surface. Balloons and chocolates filled in the spaces, but it was a mask concealing the gloom with an attempt at cheer. I hurt and I didn’t understand what had happened. One minute everything was beautiful and the next it felt like a curtain had been dropped onto my life. I couldn’t remember. Maybe I didn’t want to remember. The doctor was talking. I had trouble focusing on his words. I heard parts.
“There was extensive internal bleeding when you were brought in. We weren’t able to save your spleen. Your stomach was nicked but we were able to stop the bleed and you have a concussion.” He took my hand then continued, “The damage was some of the worst I’ve ever seen and the fact that you’ve recovered as much as you have in such a short time is nothing short of a medical miracle.”
“But?” I whispered.
“Shock to the abdomen can be very destructive. There is so much soft tissue that gets shredded, especially in the case of a gunshot.”
“What are you saying?”
“Your uterus suffered trauma. It’s possible…” He paused for a moment before he corrected himself. “It’s highly unlikely you’ll be able to carry a child to term.”
I didn’t understand him at first, couldn’t process those words. When I did, that I would never carry Greyson’s children and that our love would never result in the children we both so desperately wanted, I couldn’t hold back the sob. I turned my head into my pillow and cried, for the babies I would never have and for the dream of a life that would never be.
Two months after the shooting I was home, but I wasn’t healing. There were scars. I hadn’t looked, but I felt them. Walking was hard, the muscles of the abdomen played such a part in the body’s function and mine were weak from disuse. I needed physical therapy to build up those muscles so I could walk without struggling. But it wasn’t just the physical problems; I couldn’t find my words. The doctor had said it was natural after a concussion, but being someone whose life was centered on words, not being able to find mine scared me. What if I never could? A depression settled over me. Greyson was trying, but not even he was able to pull me from my funk.
He entered my room carrying my lunch. Instead of the upbeat man who had been trying with no success to get me out of this bed, he looked defeated. “You should have started therapy weeks ago.”
I turned from him, couldn’t bear to see his disappointment. “I don’t want to.”
“You need to move, get some fresh air, see your friends, eat something.”
“No.”
“I know you’re hurting, but this isn’t the way to handle it.”
He was right. It still pissed me off. “What the hell do you know about what I’m feeling? You weren’t the one who was almost killed, the one they couldn’t make whole again.”
He got right into my face. Even depressed, I saw his unfathomable pain. “Every time I close my eyes I see you on the ground, your blood pouring from you, your eyes closed, your breathing so shallow.” He turned from me and walked across the room pulling his hand through his hair in frustration. When he glanced back, there were tears in his eyes.
“I thought you were dead and I realized that I didn’t want to go on if you weren’t here, but you lived, Alexis.”
I couldn’t stop the tears that rolled down my cheek.
His own eyes were bright. “I need you to come back to me, beautiful. You’ve been through hell, but I need you to fight, to find your way back.”
“I have scars, so many, inside and out.”
He closed the distance. “And I wish to fuck I could take them from you, that it was me not you, but…” He touched my chin, “You lived, you’re here and that’s all that matters.”
“I’m having trouble remembering things, words. I can’t find my words, Greyson.”
His eyes grew bright because he knew what they meant to me. “We’ll find them. Together.”
Greyson
It was hard watching Alexis struggling. Something we take for granted, walking, it was a chore for her. It took her four times as long as it should and when she reached her destination she was exhausted. We set up one room as a therapy room. Three times a week a therapist worked with her. She’d eventually get her body back. It was her mind though that was the hardest to witness. Words on her tongue, words she knew but couldn’t find, the frustration and fear that she never would. She was working with a cognitive therapist, one who specialized in concussion patients. She was very confident Alexis would get back her words, but it was going to take time.
I was making dinner, Alexis was peeling the potatoes. “I can’t give you children.”
I stopped slicing the onion and let the pain move through me. We hadn’t discussed it. I wanted children with her, but I wanted her more.
“There are other options for us.”
“I wanted your children,” she said softly.
I didn’t want a pregnancy that could put her at risk, but she seemed to need to hear it so I said, “The doctor said it was unlikely, not impossible.”
Her voice grew bright. “Do you really believe that?”
I turned to her; her eyes that had been dull had a light in them. It tore me up to see her putting so much stock into something that was likely never going to happen, but she needed to heal and if this helped her then I’d lie.
“Yes.”
“Maybe we could do a…” Her nose scrunched up. I’d seen that look more times than I wanted in the last few months. She was struggling to find the word. “The um…in our bedroom. The…”
“Mural?”
“Yes, mural. Maybe we could do one for the baby’s room.”
My hand tightened on the handle of the knife as rage for the fucker who shot Alexis burned through me.
Silenced followed before she offered softly, “I’ll be right back.”
She didn’t come back, so I went in search of her. She was in our room, sitting on the bed. Her head was down and she was weeping. Instinct was to go to her, but she needed to let it out. If I approached, she’d suck it back up. I fucking wanted to weep seeing her in so much pain and knowing there was nothing I could do to take it away.
Alexis 2017
For months and months I lived rehab. I was bone tired, physically and mentally, but every day I pushed myself. I was walking again without getting winded, had even gone for a few walks with Greyson around our neighborhood. The words were harder, it was slow going and I got frustrated a lot and scared, but my therapist was determined to get me all the way back. And Greyson was as good as his word. He was with me every second. I wouldn’t have gotten through it without him.
I stood in front of the mirror looking at myself in the black sheath gown. It had been a long road, but physically I was back. I had scars, a reminder of how quickly life can be taken…like my mom’s, a reminder to cherish every day. My words weren’t quite there yet, but every day I saw improvement. The family was here; we were going out to celebrate life. I felt Greyson and turned to see him leaning against the doorjamb. “You look beautiful.”
I walked to him and he smiled at the sight before he closed me in his arms. “I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t push me.”
“You would have found your way.”
I touched his face. “It took me a while, but I’ve realized something.”
He touched my lower lip with his thumb. “What?”
“I’m here and whole, for the most part; our dream is different, but we’re still living it.”
“Yes we are.” He pulled his hands through my hair and just stared then he stepped back and took my hand. “Everyone is downstairs.”
We hadn’t had sex since the incident. It had been far too many months. I ached for him, knew he had to be aching too. “When we get home…” I traced his mouth with my tongue.
He looked heartbreakingly beautiful in that moment. Even his eyes seemed to brighten. “When we get home,” he promised then led me downstairs.
There wasn’t a dry eye in the room when I walked into it. With tears in his eyes Grant said, “There’s our girl.”
I couldn’t taste him enough, my mouth dragging over his shoulder and up his neck. He was pounding into me, my hips lifting to take him deeper.
“Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”
His mouth found mine, his tongue sweeping and tasting before stroking my own. My fingers dug into his ass when I hit the edge and tumbled off. He pulled from me, seconds before his head was between my legs. He hadn’t come yet and he was working me back up again. His tongue teased my clit, licking my opening, slipping into me. Desire coiled in my gut as I started the rise again. He brought me to the brink before he moved back up my body and slammed into me, his cock going so deep I came on a scream. He followed shortly after.
I wrapped my legs around him. I didn’t want him to move. “I’ve missed you.”
He brushed my hair from my face. “I was always here.”
“I’m sorry.”
His jaw went tight. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
“I retreated.”
“You had a reason.” He touched my cheek but I couldn’t read him.
“What are you thinking?”
“Just so fucking grateful you’re here.”
“Thank you for never leaving my side.”
“I’ll never leave your side.” He sealed that vow with a kiss.
Greyson
I stood in Captain Samuel’s office, my focus out the window at the birds fighting over a piece of pretzel. Alexis was with the twins. She wasn’t ready to hear the details of her attack. As it happens, neither was I. Samuel’s words were circling around in my head, words that when I let them penetrate were going to change everything.
“Her name is Millie Ward. She had a wall in her apartment, pictures of you. She said she was your biggest fan. Clearly she needs help. Her attorney is arguing not guilty by reason of mental defect. The DA has requested a competency hearing and will push for institutionalization over imprisonment if needed. Bottom line, Millie Ward will be locked up for a very long time.”
My hands curled into fists in my pockets. Sick or not, that woman almost killed my wife. And as horrifying as that thought was, there was another that damn near gutted me. “And you’re sure she isn’t the same woman from San Francisco?”
“No. Candace Miller is living in a halfway house. Her doctors have found the right meds for her and she’s living a productive life. I don’t need to tell you. Celebrities are often targets for disturbed people, a way for them to live vicariously. Most know where the line is, some don’t.”
Standing in that office, the numbness started, creeping over me like a cancer. It hadn’t been a random act of violence like I had thought, or linked to her father. Alexis had been targeted, singled out and all because of me.
I left the police station, but instead of going for Alexis, I went home, to our bedroom and stood looking at her painting. It was my favorite because it was Alexis. Not just the girl I saw that first day, but the one formed by the story of us, every road, every path, every choice, every high and every low. She was vulnerable and strong, sweet and sassy. She made me laugh, she made me burn; she could make me angry and at times she brought tears.
I walked to my studio and it was there, surrounded by what I thought was the dream, but was really what led me to the dream that it hit hard and fast. My girl had been shot, she almost died; she’d lost her words, her confidence and her humor because of me. The rage came then. One easel went flying to splinter against the wall. Some random nut almost took her life. Seeing her lying in her own blood, a canvas followed the easel. It wasn’t just one disturbed woman. How many others were out there? When would the next one show up? And would Alexis live through it? That thought broke something inside me. I trashed my studio, roaring my anguish with tears of rage streaming down my face. I had spent my life trying to take the pain from her eyes and because of me she not only had that pain, but now she had scars inside and out. I dropped to my knees, my chest heaved in and out. I understood then, in that moment, I understood why her father had left. What he was feeling because I was feeling it too. I had to let her go and just the thought left me dead inside.
It had been a week since learning the part I played in Alexis’ shooting, a week to get things in order. I stepped from my studio; Alexis was playing with Buggers. I felt the hit we’d felt so long ago. I loved her; I would always love her. I reached her in two strides, grabbing her to me, my mouth closing over hers as I tore at her clothes, needing to touch her, memorize her, savor her. Surprise turned to hunger as she kissed me back. We didn’t get to the bedroom, I dropped her on the stairs, lifted her hips and slammed into her and then I stilled, committing the moment to memory, how she felt, how she smelled, how she looked with love and longing in her eyes. I pulled my hands through her hair. I’d always loved her hair, the silky strands that were a palette of colors. Her eyes, so expressive and always with that hint of sadness, sadness I was now responsible for, her lips, the curve of her cheek, the beautiful line of her throat.
She touched my face as concern clouded her expression. “Are you okay?”
“I love you. I have from the first moment I saw you.”
She smiled as she remembered too. “Despite my unfortunate means of transportation.”
“I even love that fucking bike.”
“What’s going on?”
I moved my hips, slowly, drawing out the pleasure. Concern turned to passion. She was my only focus. I brought her to that peak, and then I pushed her over it and even as her body hummed with pleasure I started all over again. I loved her all night; I had to get in a lifetime’s worth.
Alexis
Something was going on with Greyson. There was a shadow in his eyes since he visited the detective. Whatever he learned he didn’t like. I had hoped he would have talked to me, but he was being unusually quiet. Last night he had loved me like he had a time limit, a desperation about him that both scared and worried me. We were supposed to be heading to Paige’s, some downtime with our family, but Greyson and I needed to talk.
“What’s going on with you?” He was in the kitchen when I hunted him down. “And don’t say nothing because even though I can’t read you as well as you read me, I know something is wrong.”
He turned and leaned back against the counter. The pain in his eyes was palpable. I stepped closer, he said, “The woman who shot you…”
I stopped moving. Instinct was to tune out. I didn’t want to be reminded of that night.
“She was a fan.”
It took me a minute to follow his logic. “Not a fan, a disturbed woman.”
Pain switched to anger in a blink. “Whatever the fuck the semantics, she shot you because of me.”
“Is that what this is about? You feel responsible for some random woman shooting me?”
“I am responsible.”
“How the hell are you responsible? Did you give her the gun?”
“What the fuck, Alexis?”
“Unless you handed her the gun and told her to shoot me, how the hell are you in any way involved?”
“Why are you being intentionally obtuse?” he growled.
“I’m being obtuse? You’re the one taking responsibility for something you had nothing to do with.”
He moved into my face. I’d never seen him like this. We rarely fought and when we did it was over in minutes. Not now, he was livid, his anger was eating him alive. “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have been shot. Don’t you get that?”
The first thread of fear moved through me.
“I don’t.”
He pulled his hand through his hair in frustration and put the distance of the room between us. “She isn’t the first one. She won’t be the last.”
That fear grew stronger. “What are you saying?”
“Being with me puts you in danger.”
“So what’s the alternative?”
He looked at me and though he said nothing, I read him loud and clear. That fear made me weak in the knees.
I could hardly get the words out; they were words I never ever thought would apply to us. “You’re leaving me?”
His shoulders tensed and he dropped his head. “You almost died.”
“I lived.”
There were tears in his eyes when he lifted his gaze. “Next time you might not be so lucky.”
“What next time?”
It was like a switch, fury rolled over his face. “Exactly. There won’t be one because I’m removing myself from the equation.”
My own temper stirred. “Removing yourself from the equation? It’s that simple for you, to just walk out.”
“Simple!” He grabbed my hand and pressed it to his chest where his heart was beating hard and fast. “Every fucking beat is for you, but I will not sit in another hospital room watching as machines breathe for you.”
I tried to reason with him. “Listen to me. Leaving isn’t the answer. Life without you isn’t a life. We can figure this out without you being so rash.”
“Rash? Every time I close my eyes I see you lying in a pool of your own blood. To know I was in any fucking way responsible for that…it’s killing me.”
“It was horrific, but it should bring us closer not pull us apart.”
“Easy for you to say. It wasn’t because of you it happened. Reverse it, Alexis; I was the one shot by someone targeting you. Tell me how you’d handle it.”
I wanted to say I wouldn’t fucking leave, but I got it. Like my father, he was determined to protect me even if that meant hurting me.
“My dad did this. You know how I struggled, still struggle, with his choice. You’re making me live that again, but this is far worse because you are my life. Every moment since I was sixteen you have been part of me and now you’re removing yourself from the equation, but that equation is our life.”
“Yes.”
“No! I won’t let you.”
He was resigned. Here was the fucking stubbornness his mother had warned about. I understood now why she wanted to rip out all of her hair. Fucking hell, but this was madness.
“Cheshire cat really did have it right,” I muttered. Ride out the storm. I shook my head, how the fuck long would this storm last?
“You are prepared to walk away from our life.”
“To keep you safe, yes.”
“And forcing me to live half a life, to face the years ahead alone knowing the man I love, and who loves me, is out there cowering because of what might happen.”
Anger sparked in those eyes. “Guarantee me no one will take a shot at you, tell me there won’t be another woman who breaks into my hotel room, or sends me disturbing letters or decides my wife is in the way and shoots her. You know my past history. Fuck, even Stephanie bordered on stalker. Tell me it all ends.”
“You know I can’t.”
“I can’t accept even a half percent chance that someone will hurt you because of me.”
“So your fear for me outweighs your love. Just like my dad.”
All the anger drained from him and a broken man stood before me. “Easy for you to say, but you weren’t the one who was almost left behind. A lifetime of knowing the one person I want most in the world was dead because of me. I understand what your father did. It wasn’t cowardice. It was strength. And it isn’t fear that outweighs love; it’s the opposite. Loving someone means you are ready to make the hard decisions, willing to put your own happiness aside for theirs. I love you; you know how much I do. You’re the best part of me and it is because you are that I’m letting you go.”
“And my happiness?”
“Whatever lies ahead for you, you’ll be alive to live it.”
“Bullshit.”
Startled, he reared back a bit.
“You want to walk, fucking walk, but know this. YOU ARE MAKING A MISTAKE! You promised you’d never leave my side. You promised until death do us part. I’m not dead! Every fucking breath…another lie.”
“Alexis.”
“No. You’ve already made up your mind. You’ve already made a decision that will irrevocably change my life and you didn’t even give me a say in the matter. I thought we were partners, we fucking decided together what sofa to purchase, what plates and what color to paint our fucking bathroom, but for the biggest decision, the one that ends the life that I know, that takes away the fucking dream, you made that call all on your own.” I wiped at my eyes and headed to the stairs. “I’m going to Paige’s. Maybe you should take some time, visit your Grandfather and think about what you’re doing.” I looked back at him. “Really think about it because if you go through with this, one day you will realize you’ve made the biggest fucking mistake of your life, but by then I might not feel inclined to take you back. And that will be my decision.”
“No. He loves you. The man is crazy out of his head in love with you.” Paige was emphatic and she was right, but did he love me enough.
“The woman that shot me, there’s a link to him and he’s afraid for me.”
Grant was pacing the living room.
Restless energy and worry had me on the edge of the sofa. I felt an ulcer forming. “He wouldn’t really leave me right? I mean he knows how much it hurt dealing with the loss of my father. He wouldn’t do that, right? He wouldn’t leave me?”
“No! Of course not.” Paige looked horrified at the suggestion. “Where is he now?”
“He’s leaving for Ireland in a few days. I encouraged him to go, to recharge, clear his head and think things through.” I dropped back against the sofa. “But you didn’t see him, the look in his eyes. And what kills me is if the roles were reversed, my first instinct would be to push him away. I don’t know that time would change that.”
“He’s upset. He reacted to horrible news; he didn’t give himself time to process. That is human nature, but what you two have is special and to put it aside because of a possible ‘what if’ is bullshit; he will figure that out. He’ll cool off and think logically and then he’ll beg your forgiveness for being an idiot. That’s what Grant would do. Right, Grant?”
Grant had stopped pacing, but his expression increased my fear not lessened it.
“Grant?”
Paige’s head whipped around to her husband. “Grant? What?”
“Had it been you, the girls, Alexis, if I was in Greyson’s shoes…” Sad eyes turned to me. “I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same.”
I jumped from the sofa. “I need to go home.” My eyes found Paige’s, “I have to go home before he leaves.”
The flight was the longest six hours of my life. A car was waiting for me when I arrived at JFK. It took almost an hour to get to the apartment. I hurried inside. I was shaking in the elevator, shaking so badly it took me four tries to punch in our code.
I pushed open the door calling, “Greyson!”
It was eerily quiet in the apartment. I hurried to his studio and yanked open the door. It was empty, every canvas, every tube of paint, the sketches, the brushes, even the sculpture that I hadn’t been allow to see. It was all gone. There was nothing left of him, not even his scent lingered. I ran upstairs, into our room. His closet was empty, his clothes were gone, his toiletries. My eyes moved to the bed and my painting. It was gone. That was when it hit me, when the pain was too much and I dropped to my knees. The sob tore from my throat; I stared at the mural that had one time brought so much joy and now it mocked me. He left me. He walked out of my life. Pain exploded in my chest, far worse than when I was shot. It was then I saw the note on the bedside table.
I understand now why your father did what he did. And I know what my leaving is going to do to you. I’ve spent every day since that day on the beach trying to remove the sadness in your eyes and now I’m responsible for it, but I almost lost you. Knowing it was because of me you almost died, that you lost your words, that you struggled to find yourself breaks me. The fear that it could happen again, that another Mille is out there just waiting. I love you, I will always love you, but I have to let you go. I didn’t keep my promise and I broke my vows, but believe that every breath, Alexis, every fucking breath I breathe is for you.
I curled up his note, folded into myself, and cried until I was as empty as our home.
Greyson
A car pulled up in front of our apartment building and Alexis climbed out. She’d only just left for Paige’s and she was back. I knew she’d be back because my girl could read my mind too. I needed to see her one last time. The hope on her face that was clear even from my distance had my hands curling into fists in the pockets of my hoodie. Everything in me wanted to cross the street, pull her close and never let her go. Then I saw her lying in a pool of her own blood. I’d never get that image out of my head. Or the months and months that she struggled to find herself again. She ran inside. My chest ached, like someone was driving stakes into it, but then it should hurt like hell when a dream dies. I waited, knew what she was seeing, knew how it was going to break her. I was breaking right along with her.
Night had settled when I pulled my hoodie lower over my head and walked away from the dream of life that had been all too fleeting. I knew the pain I was causing, knew I had done the one thing I never wanted to do. Hurt her, but she’d be alive to feel the pain.
Alexis
He left. Two days I’d been home in an apartment that had no traces of him and I still didn’t believe he’d walked out on us. Heartache turned to anger, I was so fucking angry and he wasn’t close so I went to someone who was.
I stood outside Lucifer’s Warriors clubhouse. Anger fueled me and still there was fear because the place definitely had a scary vibe.
“Hey, babe, you looking to party?” one of the biker’s called. Shaved head, muscled, a tattoo climbing up his neck. He was wearing a leather vest, his name over his heart. Gunner.
He walked toward me not at all hiding his thorough inspection. A smile spread over his face when he stopped just in front of me. “I’m here to play, babe.” He looked at my breasts. “I’d love to play.”
“I want to see Finn.”
He cocked his hip. “You’re feisty and a sweet piece of ass, but Finn is very picky.”
“Yeah, well tell Finn his daughter is here.”
His expression changed instantly. The gate opened and he yanked me through it, dragging me across the compound to the clubhouse door.
I was scared; terrified was a better word. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea. “Let me go.”
He ignored me, stopping within inches of the door.
“Shit,” he rubbed a hand over his shaved head. “He’ll cut my dick off if I bring you through there.”
Some of the fear faded seeing his uncertainty. And his comment, talk about graphic. “Why would he remove your…?” I gestured rather than said.
His eyes danced with mischief. “The club whores are working the room.”
I didn’t know what that meant, but I had an idea.
“There’s no other way in and you can’t stay outside.” His head lowered; penetrating blue eyes with specks of brown stared through me. “Keep your head down,” he ordered.
On that warning, he dragged me into the club. I didn’t keep my head down, too curious, and boy did I get an eyeful. A woman was kneeling in front of a sofa where three bikers sat, their legs spread and cocks out. She was servicing all three of them right down the line. It reminded me of when I was a kid, hell even now, filling up my cup with each flavor of soda from the soda fountain. It always ended up tasting like Sprite. Watching her, yeah, I didn’t think I’d be doing that anymore. In another corner, a woman was on the lap of another biker. No question they were having sex, but it was the man behind her, fucking her ass at the same time that had my eyes dropping. Holy shit, it was like a den of sin.
“Told you to keep your head down,” Gunner reprimanded.
“I can’t unsee that,” I muttered.
We reached an office. Nothing fancy, a desk covered in papers, a chair, filing cabinets against one wall and the Lucifer’s Warriors image painted on the wall behind the desk.
“I’ll get Finn,” Gunner said then added, “Don’t leave this room.”
Yeah, because that was my first thought, escape the room so I could be mistaken for one of those women. I needed a shower. On second thought, did they autoclave people? “I won’t.”
I stared at the door, trying not to see the images in the other room. How did one become a club whore and why would you want to be?
A few minutes later, the door slammed open on my dad. His expression was not one of loving father or even mildly happy to see me. He was pissed and still my heart skipped a beat because I had imagined this moment so many times over the years. I had never once imagined his opening words being what they were though. “Are you fucking out of your mind?”
It was becoming clearer that I might in fact be out of my mind.
His anger shifted as he pivoted and slammed Gunner up against the wall by his throat. “You fucking brought her inside?”
“Better than outside.”
Finn released Gunner, so clearly that meant something. Angry eyes turned on me. “You can’t be here.”
Fascination, even love, all took a backseat to temper. “I am well aware of your pathological need to keep me as far from you as possible.”
Dad’s eyes widened; Gunner chuckled. Dad glared, he shut up. A softness entered his expression when he saw the locket.
“I just wanted to inform you that my husband has walked out on me.”
I barely heard him, but a chill moved down my spine in warning. “He what?”
“Yes, he walked out on me and did so following your lead.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“I was shot.”
His expression changed again. Pain burned in his eyes. “I know. I was at the hospital.”
That show of fatherly concern deflated some of my anger, even my voice softened. “You were? Never mind.” I twisted my fingers together and tallied on. “Greyson has gotten it into his thick and very stubborn head that the shooting was his fault.” I started to pace as the anger rolled through me again. “He didn’t know her, never met her, and yet it was his fault that she shot me. It’s the most ridiculous logic I’ve ever heard and yet you applied the same fucking logic when you left.”
Finn Levy would make an excellent poker player.
“Like you, he made the decision for me, so let me share with you my choice had I been given one. I would have preferred a life with you. I would have chosen the danger, and the possibility of death, to have a chance to know the man in this fucking picture.” I slammed the picture of us on his desk. “I have looked at this every day. My whole life wondering what you were like, where you were, why you left me. You walked out for my best interests, but my best interests would have been served better by having my dad in my life. By learning who I was and where I came from. You took that away, you forced me to find my way in the world on my own rather than being the guiding light you should have been. And I am here to tell you that you were fucking wrong to do that. I would have chosen you regardless of how many years I would have had with you.”
I wiped at my tears. My hand shaking as I retrieved the picture. “And now my husband has done the same. He’s left me alone, to find my way without him all because of some stupid, bullshit caveman mentality of protecting his woman. But a life without love isn’t a life worth protecting.” My eyes met his. “I’m so fucking tired of the men in my life killing me with their good intentions. I’m stronger than either of you give me credit for. So I’ll tell you what I should have told him. Fuck you for leaving me and fuck you for staying away.”
I walked out. I wasn’t alone, knew Gunner was behind me. He reached for the door of the cab, held it for me. Tears were running down my face when I glanced at him. “You’re so much like him.” He held out his hand. “It was nice to fucking meet you.”
He squeezed my hand then let it go. The door of the cab closed as soon as I climbed in. I didn’t look back.