Call You Mine

by Claudia Burgoa

  “So, you forbid him to see me after that?”

  “No, that was the crazy lawyer. Sarah, I think that’s her name. She suggested a hefty trust, paying child support, and…I really can’t remember what else she proposed. We all ended up with different arrangements. His wife is the one who proposed that you spend a week with him—so you could grow together. Mine included giving custody of you to my parents.”

  I’m confused. There are so many questions swirling inside my head. “So, Grandma and Grandpa didn’t want me?”

  “They did, but they also wanted me to be responsible. When the custody battle for you guys began, they accepted to take care of you. I wasn’t going to leave you with him.”

  “But he wanted me,” I insist. Something about it makes things slightly different. It changes the narrative on how I used to see him.

  “He did. We made sure he didn’t get any of you,” she says with an air of victory I don’t like.

  “Why would you do that?” Hayes asks.

  “I think it was the best way to make him pay for what he had done to us.”

  “So, he didn’t abandon us?” I ask again.

  “No, he was actually a good dad when he was around.”

  “What is wrong with you?” My voice comes out harsh and the machines beep again.

  Hayes looks at me and shakes his head. “I understand, but your health is more important. Maybe she should leave.”

  “Listen, I can only speak for myself. I was in my early twenties, Beacon. Imagine yourself at that age trying to mend your broken heart while dealing with much older women. I…maybe I would’ve done things differently if I had been older. Marie didn’t like the idea at all, but she got onboard when she realized that she could lose custody of her son and have to move to New York. Addison wasn’t much older than me. Her dad was harsh and didn’t want Vance to grow up with a father like William. In a way, we were trapped.”

  I take a couple of seconds to think about what she’s saying. It’s too much to digest. I can’t deal with any of it—or her.

  “Why are you here?” I ask before I request her to leave.

  “I want to make sure you’re all right.”

  “Is this going to be added to your tell-all story?” My tone comes out more sarcastic than I intended.

  “No. I’ll send you the book. I want you to read it to see if it’s something your grandparents would approve of. I don’t want to add you. I…I’d like to sing with you because I think it’d be good for my career, but I’m not heartless.”

  “Why did you stay away for so long?”

  “Your grandparents requested it so I wouldn’t confuse you. I’m undependable. That’s not great for a developing mind,” she explains.

  “So, what now?”

  “I don’t know.” She shrugs. “I wish we could be closer. Like a strange aunt who comes to visit you?”

  “I guess we could try that. Can I see that custody agreement?” I ask, because I want to know more. There’s a story behind it.

  “Your grandpa had it,” she answers. “Since he became your guardian along with Mom, they had to have proof that they were responsible for you.”

  Hayes taps his watch. “Time for you to leave.”

  She nods. “I’m glad you have people who love you, Beacon. I’m sorry for not doing the right thing.”

  “What was the right thing?”

  “William would’ve been a good father if I had let him have you…and maybe you wouldn’t hate me. I feel responsible for what I did,” she concludes. “It’s been almost thirty years. I handled everything poorly, but there’s nothing we can do to fix it. Is there?”

  I think about my life. Grace comes to mind. “I’ll always choose my fate if it takes me right next to G.”

  “Still, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine,” I repeat. “When I’m better, maybe we can share a cup of coffee.”

  She gives me a sad smile. “I’d like that.” She looks at Hayes. “Keep me updated on his condition.”

  She turns back to me. “Call if I can do anything for you.”

  “Thank you for coming.”

  “You okay?” Hayes asks after he shuts the door.

  I sigh. “Can you find those custody agreements?”

  “This doesn’t make sense,” he says. “But it does. I remember my parents fighting about where we were going to live. Dad wanted us to move to New York. It was weird since they were getting a divorce. Then one day he never came back.”

  He gives me a long look. “Are you up for more or do you want a break?”

  “Can I have G? I promise not to talk.”

  He nods. “She barely left your side. You can’t see it, but there’s a bed on the other side of the room. It’s the only way to get her to sleep. I’m sure she’ll be happy to keep everyone away and be by your side.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ll talk to Pierce to see what he can find about the custody.”

  “Is he around?”

  He shakes his head. “No. Parrish only let me stay. They had to leave two days after your accident. By the way, you were on a poorly built stage and fell.”

  That explains what my mother said. Nice lie, Bradley. Fuck, he’s going to kill me when he sees me. Maybe even fire me.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Beacon

  Blaire goes into labor five days after I wake up; Hayes leaves immediately. My nephew, Machlan Carter Aldridge, comes into the world a day before my birthday. Jerome Parrish allows my brothers and Leyla—who is the only one who can travel—to visit me that day. A lot of things happen while I’m hospitalized.

  Seth finally has the last piece to get the Bryants into jail. There was a teenager who was having a child and reached out to them. We hired her to go along with the process, promising that we’d find a good place for her child.

  When we had proof, Pierce offered a deal to his mother. She accepted it at first, but then things spiraled out of control.

  His own mother tried to incriminate him. Thankfully, the authorities had proof that he hired us to investigate and about everything else the firm had done. She’s serving time along with several members of her family. I’m sad that I missed it, but glad that it’s over.

  I stay in the hospital for three more weeks. Hayes wasn’t kidding about having a kick-ass team to help me. They are fucking kicking my ass. Grace and the guys are with me every day, helping with rehab. Seth is the one who flies me to Baker’s Creek. We have a landing strip now. Apparently, my brothers will do anything for me.

  Not that I plan to cash in on it, but it feels good to know that they genuinely worry about me.

  “This is the last time I’ll carry you,” San says, as he helps me get off the plane. “The next time, you better be walking.”

  “You wait and see,” I assure him. “I’ll be running faster than you before the year is over.”

  Grace, who is at the bottom of the stairs waiting with the wheelchair, smiles at me. “One step at a time, Beac.”

  “You saw me walking yesterday.” I kiss her once San settles me in the chair.

  “Ready?” she asks.

  I hold her hand and nod. “Take me to our next destination, kind sir,” I joke.

  San grunts, but he pushes me toward the main house. Lang, Fish, and Mane are right behind us with Seth. I turn my attention to where my studio used to be and noticed that some workers are pointing from left to right while looking at a blueprint. Henry and I were on the phone the other day, and he promised he’d build me a better one.

  It’s going to be a long time before I can step into a studio. Only Grace knows that I’m having trouble holding a guitar, let alone strumming the chords. That’s a fine motor skill I can’t seem to grasp yet. It’s the one thing that’s fucking with my head. What if I never get to play again?

  I stop and remember that I’m alive, and that’s enough for now.

  There’s a ramp at the entrance. It’s then when I notice there’s a trail from the lan
ding strip all the way to the main house. When Grace opens the door, I hear a loud, “Surprise!”

  “So much for getting home and resting,” I joke, smiling when I spot Blaire holding Machlan. “Can I?”

  Blaire hands him to me. I’m extra careful. Grace is beside me, watching. She knows I might lose my strength and drop him.

  “Hey, buddy. I’m glad we finally meet. Remember, I’m your favorite uncle.”

  Blaire kisses my cheek. She’s crying. “You are still my favorite, kid. I’m so glad you’re fine.”

  “I’m indestructible.”

  Hayes looks at me, rolls his eyes, and takes Machlan away from me. “Just don’t do it again. I had a hard time putting you back together.”

  Grace takes me around the house. I notice the furniture is different. There’s enough space for my chair. There’s also a chair attached to the wall that seems to go upstairs. This is what the counselor and I discussed once I woke up from the coma. I might have trouble accepting my situation. It’s temporary. I’m not the accident, the chair, or my current condition. I’m Beacon fucking Aldridge.

  A guy with a new life who is finding his way in the world. It might take me years to walk again like I used to before. I might be lucky enough to only need a year to recover from that fucking accident. The biggest challenge is going to be adjusting my mind to what my body can do.

  While the party is happening, Vance asks if we can talk.

  I nod, and he takes me outside where there are fewer people and we can have some privacy.

  “How are you?” I ask.

  “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

  I shake my head. “Grace told me how you killed him.”

  He runs a hand through his hair. “It was a quick decision, him or my family. If I let him live, he would try killing us at a later time. I wasn’t even sure if we’d be able to reach you and stop you from walking into the trap. What happened?”

  “One of our guys,” I answer. “We were about to leave when he attacked me. I wasn’t expecting him. He knew the armor’s weak points—knives. It just…who knew that we’d be betrayed by our own people.”

  “I’m sorry,” he repeats. “If I hadn’t made that call…”

  “Before this, I never lived by the what-ifs. Now, I can’t do it at all. Never say that again,” I warn him.

  He nods.

  “It’s going to take time for me to process everything,” I explain to him, “because I don’t know how things will look in five years for me. I have to adjust. But you…you’re never recovering him. I need to know that you’ll be fine.”

  He looks at me, then glances at the surrounding area and whistles. “I don’t even know what fine is, Beacon. I’m with a therapist because apparently my issues are deeper than killing my ex-lover and almost losing my brother. I guess we both have to work hard to adjust to our new lives.”

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Grace

  Dad and I watch Beacon while he talks to Vance.

  “How are you handling this?” Dad asks.

  I stare at Beacon. “It’s hard to cope with his anger,” I confess. “He’s not an angry guy. It hurts to see how the accident changed him, but I have hope. When he realizes that things are steering to the dark side, he fights those new demons.”

  “Call me if you need anyone to talk to,” he repeats.

  I nod. “Other than that, he’s Beacon fucking Aldridge, showing the world he can make things happen with hard work and the right mind.”

  According to his physical therapists and Hayes, he’s made a lot more progress than many people in his condition. Beacon claims it’s because he promised his brother Carter that he’d work hard. The silver lining from this accident is that he spent some time with his brother. Some don’t want to believe him, I do. I want to think Carter held his hand when I couldn’t. That he is who brought him back to me.

  “Just remember that you don’t have to take shit from anyone, not even him.”

  “No worries, Dad. My psychotherapist and I are working on my own issues,” I mention.

  Ever since the accident, I was asked to find a counselor who can give me support while I hold Beacon’s hand. Also, to help me deal with the trauma of almost losing him. It was hard to wait and watch him do nothing for nearly three weeks.

  Beacon has a therapist too. This is going to be hard, even more so because he can’t just go home. He needs to stay in Baker’s Creek for another seven months. His brothers might not understand him—or worse, they might be too condescending with him. At least the guys are staying in Baker’s Creek too. If anything, Beac has us—his second family—to support him.

  “The times I’ve spoken to him, he’s asked me to extend his sabbatical. Maybe transfer him to the Nerd Herd, unless you and the team want to quit. Then, he’ll quit.”

  I look at Dad. “What do you want?”

  “For you to be happy,” he answers. “You guys are a great team, but I want what’s best for all of you. I can’t see any of you working with another leader. He doesn’t seem like he wants to go back anytime soon. You haven’t mentioned work.”

  I shake my head. “I can’t imagine being in the field without him—or on a stage. He needs me as much as I need to be with him.”

  Dad smiles at me and nods. “Should I buy a house around here?”

  I look at Beacon. My entire body relaxes when I notice him smirking as his other brothers approach him. “No, I’m sure we’ll be back home when he’s ready.”

  Hopefully, Beacon’s perspective on his family dynamic will change soon from never seeing them again to coming and visiting often. I’m hopeful that his arms and hands will heal, and if not, he’ll find another way to create music.

  “We never discussed this,” Beacon says, staring at the bed. “Are you staying or leaving?”

  “Where do you want me?”

  “Stop tiptoeing around my feelings, G,” he says, sighing. “I can tolerate it from anyone but you. You don’t take shit from me. Keep doing that. I need it to feel normal.”

  “I’m trying. It’s just too hard. I almost lost you. You’re closed up to me. I don’t know what you’re thinking half of the time. When you’re angry, you retreat—only your therapist knows what’s happening.”

  “I’m fucking adjusting,” he says. “I don’t want to be angry, but it’s fucking insane that my body can’t catch up to my brain—or maybe it’s the other way around. My brain should understand that I might not be able to do shit. What if I can’t play again?

  “I want you to give me a solution. I want you to not say shit that will give me hope. I want you to leave because what if this is it. And yet I don’t want you to leave me. And what am I supposed to say to you—but what if I don’t say anything and we fuck this up?”

  “We won’t,” I tell him, going to the box I had delivered a few weeks back.

  I open it and take out the small drums. Setting them up on his lap, I grab my cello and sit on the bed. It’s not the best posture, but they took away my chair when they reconditioned the room. I begin to play. It sounds strange; I haven’t done this in so many weeks. I played for him while he was in a coma. Once he woke up, I stopped doing it and focused on his recovery.

  “It’s time,” I say.

  Closing my eyes, I let my feelings flow through my music—the pain, the anger, and mostly the love. I don’t keep track of the time, but at some point, I hear him using his hands to follow me. We do it for a long time.

  This isn’t a love song.

  It’s a healing song.

  I’m not sure what we’re unbreaking—or fixing—but I know that we’ll have to do this again and again until he remembers who he is.

  He’s an artist. The music he composes comes from his soul. He’s not a guitar, nor his legs. He’s an entire orchestra who can figure out a way to share his gift in many ways.

  The drums stop. I don’t. I continue playing, and that’s when I feel the bed move to the side. Soon, his legs are hugging mine, his a
rms wrap around my body. His lips rest on my neck. He hums the melody while nibbling my skin. His hands run up and down my chest, his mouth begins to kiss me.

  “They say there’s a secret to having a great life,” he mumbles. “Greatness comes from knowing what’s worth holding on to. To let go of everything that’s not worth your time.”

  He kisses my spine, dusting a trail of kisses along as he takes off my shirt.

  “I don’t care if I never walk or play again, as long as you’re with me.”

  Opening my eyes, I stop playing and turn to look at him. “I’m yours. No matter what happens to us, I won’t leave you—ever.”

  I put the cello on the stand and join him in bed. Slowly, we undress each other as we kiss tenderly. This is different from the last time I was with him. There’s no urgency, but there’s no prelude to our song. We just find our rhythm once we’re naked. I sit on top of him, slowly sliding down his hardness. He fills me with his thickness.

  This is us, fusing after a painful separation.

  Making music again and dancing at the same rhythm. Maybe we didn’t lose anything. We just needed to find the right song to play while he’s healing.

  “I love you,” I mumble while we make love.

  “I love you more, G. I’d be lost without you anchoring me.”

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Beacon

  It’s been almost three weeks since I came back to Baker’s Creek. Grace and I are working on our issues through music. Well, that and making love. It seems like I have enough strength to do anything in bed—or in the pool. The only problem with the second one is that we got caught by Henry. It wasn’t pretty.

  Lang had to leave town. His clients are needy. Mane, San, and Fish have been helping with my rehabilitation along with my brothers and Grace. Hayes claims I need supervision because if I was left alone, I’d be overworking myself. Apparently, there’s a thin line between working hard to achieve my goals and fucking up my body because I’m overdoing it.