Something soft, something fragrant. A caress across my cheek. I lean into it, the dream so real. Then a sound. A creak. My eyes flutter open, and awareness settles in. But…wait, I must still be dreaming, because I see Gavin, sitting on the edge of the coffee table, holding a red rose that he moves gently across my lips.
“So I was thinking,” he says, all casual like. “I’d like to see you again.”
I blink.
“Gavin?”
He smiles and I lunge off the couch and into his arms, holding so tight. “You—you’re here,” I sob.
“Shhh, baby,” he says, rubbing my back. “It’s alright,”
I shake my head. “No. No, it’s not alright.”
He tries to pull me from him, but I hold so tight. When I start to cry, he forces me back so he can see my face. “Hey. What is it? What’s wrong?”
I look down at the rose in his hands, then see the big bouquet next to him. No one’s ever given me flowers before. They’re so beautiful.
He swipes his thumb across the tears on my cheek and I turn to him. “How did you find me?”
“Tradecraft. I play a spy, remember?”
I groan and immediately his face falters. My eyes dart to the clock on the wall. It’s a little before noon. I’ve slept the morning away. Shayne could be here any moment.
The fear has the tears fading, and I turn back to Gavin. There’s something vulnerable in the way he’s watching me. “What is it?” he asks, a hardness seeping into his tone.
“I—I’m sorry. I wish I could see you again. But I can’t.”
“Why not?” There’s anger in his voice now.
“I just—I can’t.”
“Not good enough.”
I pull myself from his grasp and move to the window and look out. Gavin’s car is out front. If Shayne sees it…
“You—you shouldn’t be here,” I stammer, then turn around to face him.
He’s standing now, arms hanging heavy at his side. It’s only then I notice the Metallica t-shirt he’s wearing over his jeans.
“Why not?” he asks tightly.
“You just—you have to go.”
“Damn it, Ava! What the hell is going on? What aren’t you telling me?”
Gavin strides towards me. “Tell me!” he demands, gripping my arms.
“Please, I can’t.”
He looks at me, his expression one of helplessness and confusion. I look away, unable to face him, and see the rose lying on the carpet.
Gavin takes my chin in his hand and forces my eyes back to his. “What is it? What are you so afraid of?”
Begging isn’t going to work, so I’m going to have try something else. I force my face to harden, force a coolness into my voice, then force the words out. “I need you to leave.”
His lips form a thin line. “Is there a boyfriend?”
I shake my head.
“A husband?”
Again, I shake my head.
“Then, what is it?” His grip tightens on me. “What the hell has got you so spooked?”
“It’s—it’s complicated. Just—please, you just—you have to go.”
He blinks and his arms fall away.
And then I hear it—the rumble of an engine out front.
My eyes fly to the window to see a black dually pulling up. When I turn back to Gavin, his gaze is trained out the front of the house. “Who’s that?”
“It doesn’t matter. Look, please—” I grab his arm and try pulling him towards the back door, but he won’t move. I grip with both hands, pulling as hard as I can, but he just stands firmly in place. “Not until I find out what the hell is going on.”
“No—no, you don’t—”
I hear the slam of the truck door.
“He’ll kill you,” I gasp. “Please, I’m begging. If you hurry, you might—”
Gavin cuts me off with a shake of his head. His eyes are cold and dangerous and I know he’s not going anywhere.
The front door bursts open with a loud bang and Shayne steps in, dressed in all black, and swallowing up the doorway with his massive frame. His dark eyes fly to Gavin. “Who the fuck are you?”
“I’m with her.”
Shayne blinks and his eyes dart to me, then back to Gavin, then to me, where they narrow. A sickness washes over me when I see the realization settle into his face. He shoots his arm up, and points a shaky finger at me. “You better still be a virgin!”
I pale and cast my eyes to Gavin, whose gaze has shifted to me. There’s confusion on his face, shock even. I can see his wheels turning, see the questions. My eyes fall to the ground.
A strangled groan comes from the doorway and I look up as Shayne hurls his body at Gavin. I cry out, but my voice gets lost in the chaos. Their bodies collide like two planets in space, destroying everything around them. A lamp falls and breaks. A section of the wall caves in. The coffee table gives way. They’re like snarling wolves, grunting and shifting, but within a matter of seconds, Gavin gets his arm around Shayne’s neck from behind, trapping him against the couch. I’ve never seen Shayne at anyone’s mercy.
A loud blast echoes in the room and part of the ceiling gives way. I spin around to see Ben with a shot gun aimed at the now frozen mass of tangled men.
“Sorry about the ceiling,” Ben mutters. “I’ll fix it.” He levels his gaze back at Shayne and Gavin. “You two! Up!”
Gavin still has Shayne in his grip, choking him, but eventually relents. He gives Shayne a hard shove and both men stagger to their feet. Shayne’s chest heaves as he sucks in air, wiping at his busted lip, looking almost boyish in age compared to Gavin, who stands off to the side, breathing hard.
Shayne steps to the door and his angry voice barrels through the room. “Let’s go, Ava.”
“She’s not going anywhere with you,” Gavin says.
“You two numb-nuts don’t seem to understand,” Ben lets out. “My double barreled friend here says she makes up her own mind.”
“Ava!” Shayne bellows, shaking his head and glaring at me. “We had a deal. So help me, God, if you don’t—”
The rack of the shotgun cuts him off. Gavin stands there, watching it all, watching me, confused.
I want nothing more than to let Ben and Gavin drive him off, but I know what will happen, where he’ll go. He’ll use my ‘weakness,’ and I know he’ll follow through, one way or another.
So I step to Ben and place my hand on his arm, lowering the gun. “It’s alright.”
“No, it ain’t.”
“It is. Really. This day was always coming.” I swallow hard. “Will you lock up?”
Ben gives a tight lipped nod.
I reach up and hug him. The only other time I’ve hugged him is when Helen passed. He looks away and my throat gets tight when I see the glassiness in his eyes.
With a deep breath, I turn and walk to Gavin. He stares at me, hurt, anger, and confusion set hard into his eyes. I reach up and press my palm to his cheek. “I’m sorry, Gavin. This was set in motion a long time ago.”
“Don’t. Don’t go. I won’t let you.”
“No room for anything else, remember?”
“I’ll make room.”
I shake my head. “I’m sorry.”
His lips part, as though I’ve delivered a blow to his gut.
I stand on my tiptoes and whisper, “Thank you,” then place a soft kiss on his cheek.
It’s all I can do to avoid his eyes and walk to the front door. Calmly, I reach for my bag and my purse, slip on my black flats, and catch one more glimpse of the rose that lays in the middle of the floor…broken.
Moments later, I’m in the dually, looking through a tinted window at Gavin, standing in the doorway of my house, shoulders slumped, expression blank. I have to look away while tears drip into my lap, settling around my knotted hands. Next to me, Shayne’s jagged breathing reminds me of the trouble I’m in. It isn’t until we’re out of the driveway and down the road a ways that he pulls the truck over and lets it idle, just staring out the front windshield.
I sit there quietly, with no sounds but the rumble of the engine and my occasional sniffle.
When Shayne finally turns to me, his eyes are deadly, so I turn away.
A moment later, his hard voice breaks the silence. “It’s me. Custom Black Dodge Challenger. Plate number 3XFJ875. He assaulted me. I’m pressing charges. I want him arrested, right the fuck now. He’s at Ava’s place.”
I turn to him in a panic, watching him on his cell.
“Yeah,” he goes on. “I have a witness too.” He looks at me, glaring.
When he hangs up, I’m about to say something when his hand snakes out and grips my neck, choking me.
“Not a word,” he snarls. “Not. One. Fucking. Word.”
He lets me go and I gasp for air as he opens the door and steps out. He puts the phone to his ear again and begins pacing back and forth in front of the truck. I can’t make out what he’s saying. Then he makes another call. A few minutes later he’s back in the driver’s seat and pulling on to the road. I huddle against the door while my gaze drifts out the window, watching the world pass by in a dreary haze. It isn’t until we’re pulling into a familiar gravel lot that I realize where we are.
“Get out of the truck,” Shayne orders.
But I can’t move. I just stare at the little stone chapel and see Father Watkins walk out, a confused expression on his gentle face.
I’m still in the truck when Shayne yanks the door open and jerks me out by the wrist. I shake my head. “This—this wasn’t the deal.”
He comes in close, eyes blazing. “I know what the deal was. And you did, too. But it’s changed now, hasn’t it?”
I work hard to keep my breathing steady, my mind clear. “But—I don’t love you.”
He stares at me for a long hard moment. “You don’t have to.”
I shake my head again, like somehow I can change the outcome from sheer will of force, but Shayne’s hand snakes up and grips my jaw. “I didn’t get to be the first, Ava, but I sure as hell am going to be the last. Now either you do this, or I will fucking destroy everything you care about, and that includes him. I’ll kill him, I swear to God.”
By the way the beast stares me down, I know he’s not bluffing. When he lets my jaw go, I turn to see a silver car pull in and park. Kyle Morris steps out, plump with thick glasses and shy, brown eyes that avoid us completely. He was a few grades ahead of Shayne in school. Now he’s the local clerk and notary.
Kyle begins laying out paperwork on the hood of his Honda, looking pale. Shayne grabs my purse from the truck, tightens his grip around my wrist and drags me to the car. I stand there, numb, while he pulls my wallet from the purse and hands my license over to Kyle, then does the same with his. Moments later, Shayne’s shoving a pen into my hand and hovering over me while I sign. Then Shayne signs.
I stare off to the side, trying to reason it out. Maybe he’ll get bored with me. Maybe I’ll pay my debt and he’ll be ready to move on. We can divorce. I’m not signing my life away. I’m not. I can’t be.
Then another paper appears before me. I stare at it, not understanding why the words ‘Power of Attorney’ are across the top. That’s when Shayne leans in and whispers, “With us married, you won’t be needing your place anymore. It’s going up for sale. Now sign.”
The pen falls from my fingers and everything starts spinning around me. I vaguely hear Shayne say something to Kyle about giving us a minute, then I’m lunging at him, striking, kicking, pounding on his chest, until he takes me into a bear hug from behind and pins my arms to my chest. I’m crying now, my heart cracking open from the loss of the home I love so much, of the dream I’ve had for so, so long.
I’m still raging when his hard voice slithers into my ear. “Listen to me very carefully, Ava. We had a deal. You broke it. So this is the price you pay. You know I’ll make good on my threat to kill him, don’t you? I saw the way you were looking at him. I know he means something to you. You think I don’t have it in me? Well, think again. Or how about those horses? You know how easy it is for them to break their legs, right? Especially in pasture. Not much else to do but put them down after that. Or how about your neighbor? Think anyone would think it was nothing more than an accident if that old man got run over by his tractor? I can do it, Ava. I can do it all. And I’ll get away with it, too. Then what will you have? Nothing, Ava. Nothing. So you’re going to sign that paper. And you’re going to walk into that chapel, and we’re going to be married.”
I’m not raging anymore. Instead, the world is giving way beneath my feet. My knees collapse, but Shayne holds me tight against him. He practically has to carry me back to the car, where he shoves the pen back in my hand and holds my wrist while I sign, because I’m trembling so hard. Then Shayne takes the pen and signs too.
Kyle’s been standing off to the side, looking anywhere else, then comes back over when Shayne puts the pen down. He grabs all the papers, saying he’ll finish the rest later, then scrambles into his car, muttering a barely audible, “Congratulations,” before driving off.
Shayne leads me to the chapel and stops when he reaches Father Watkins. “Marry us.”
I hear nothing but silence while I stare off into darkness.
It’s gone.
It’s all gone.
The little house. The tiny creek. The mustard fields. The orange poppies. The giant oaks. The hills. The horses to rescue. The dream.
Everything.
And I know I won’t get to see my friends anymore. I won’t get to be there for Ben. I won’t get to visit Helen and Paul. I’ll never get to see Gavin again.
They’re gone.
They’re all gone.
Everything.
“Ava?”
I turn at the sound of the gentle voice, and see wise, blue eyes through a thick veil of anguish, my heart bleeding out where I stand. But strangely, there are no tears. I absently wonder if I’ve used them all up.
“Are you alright?” he asks.
I nod in a daze.
“She’s fine,” Shayne says.
Father Watkins glances to Shayne then back to me. “Is this what you want?”
I look away, and nod again.
I hear the old man sigh, then he turns and walks towards the chapel. He knows how it works here.
Inside, the place is dark, lit up only by candlelight. It smells damp, of old wood and earth. We make our way between sets of wooden pews until we come to the altar, Shayne still holding my wrist in his grip.
Father Watkins begins to talk, but I tune the words out. I don’t want to hear about honor, and love, and cherish. Instead, I find myself turning to the beast, to Shayne, watching him, studying him as he listens to Father Watkins. He stands there, his black hair falling over his forehead, his lips bruised from the fight earlier, his breathing hard but steady. I wonder if he feels anything…anything at all, here in this sacred place. Especially given how much it meant to his mom. I always use to see her in here, kneeling in one of the pews, when I started coming here for some distance away from my father, once I could drive. I wonder what she would think of him now. I wonder if he cares. I wonder if he has any guilt or remorse, or any inkling of shame for the act he’s committing. But there’s something intent on Shayne’s face, something resolute in the way his jaw is set, the way he looks almost sincere, standing here before the altar. Eventually, I hear Shayne’s deep rumble of a voice. “I do.” Something about his tone makes me blink. He sounded so earnest, so determined. His dark eyes turn to meet mine and for a fleeting moment they seem almost…sad.
I look away as more words are spoken. “And do you, Ava Rose Bennett, take this man…” I tune the words out again, when eventually silence settles in, and Shayne’s grip tightens around my wrist. Slowly, I look up into the somber eyes of Father Watkins, and in a quiet, broken voice, whisper, “I do.”