by Nicci Harris
Ugh. Just. . . stop it.
"So do you," he says over the noise of the cascading water. My lip trembles in response to his voice - deep and confident with a hint of gravel and danger. The same voice I hear in my dreams. "Look what you made me while I was gone. . . She is fucking incredible. Thank you, little one."
The water rushes off my head, soaking every inch of me, mingling with my tears. "I wasn't always brave, Max."
His brows draw a line above his serious gaze. "Neither was I."
I sob desperately a few times, so very thankful to hear he's still soft, still vulnerable, with me. That was my biggest fear, waiting all this time for him and losing him to the dark anyway. But I haven't. I see My Max sitting across from me. Our eyes dive into one another, gazes drawn together like magnets. He shakes his head as if the sight of me is so mystifying, so unfathomable, I can't possibly be real.
The feeling is mutual.
"You're so fucking beautiful, Cassidy," he says, the break in his raspy voice choking my heart with vicarious agony. I glance down to watch his throat roll, then up again to catch a single tear as it drops from his eye. "I'm sorry, little one. I'm so fucking sorry I wasn't here for you."
Max Butcher.
I leap from my position on the tiles and crawl onto his lap, my hands finding his cheeks, my lips finding his lips, my heart pressing against his heart. His big warm palms massage up my back, gripping me with such need, I whimper, overwhelmed, not having had anyone touch me in such a way for over two years. My body responds to him as if we were once one entity now split in two.
My Max.
The one with all the contradictory pieces that match mine, slotting together like a puzzle of souls. My light into his dark. My nervous into his confidence. My softness into his fierce.
With our chests pressed together, our hearts beating at a collective tempo, we say all the things that are held captive in our emotionally overcome bodies.
We say I missed you, it is over now, are you still soft, are you still fierce, are you still mine, you better still be mine! We say we will never be apart again.
We say never again.
We say all of this with our kiss.
With our needy hands.
With our actions.
THE END
* * *
"Tu, sì a chiù bedda carusa ca ancuntrài nda me vita."
"You're the most beautiful girl in the world."
Cassidy
* * *
He has been home for five emotional hours. After our very expressive kiss, we stripped off our clothes and made love under a warm spray of water. The first time was desperate and rough, the second was savouring and gentle.
Now, I want nothing more than to laze in bed, feet tangled with my husband, and talk his ear off. I want to detail every significant and insignificant event of the past two years, share my thoughts and feelings, and help him connect with this world again. Then I want to collect up all of our things, wrestle Kelly from the clutches of her uncle, and move into our beautiful new home in Brussman. I want to start our life right now. Not tomorrow. Not next week. I don't want to wait another minute. . . That is what I want to do, but instead, we are walking into Butch's office.
Max squeezes my hand as we enter, refusing to let it go even as three of his brothers jump to their feet to greet him. He uses his free hand to pat each of them on the back, giving Xander a light slap to the cheek.
"Look at this little beefcake. You been working out?" Max laughs.
Xander grins, his beautiful blue eyes sparkling with excitement. "I've been boxing like crazy. Maybe I could kick your arse now."
Max scoffs, sitting down opposite his dad and pulling me onto his lap. "I've been boxing every day for the past ten years. I wouldn't fucking count on it, dickhead."
Konnor straightens from his seat and approaches Max, nodding his head in approval. "Your little girl is the sweetest thing. The coolest kid. So any part of Kelly, I have to like. Even if you are the moodiest son of a bitch I've ever met. So" –he smiles softly– "welcome home."
"The moodiest? Met Butch?" Max asks, trailing his hand up my belly to cup my right breast.
I swipe his hand away. "Stop it, menace."
Konnor closes his eyes, cringing. "You're still a dickhead then?"
Max stares blankly at him. "Why would I change?"
Ignoring them, I turn to look at Bronson and say, "Where is Kelly?"
His eyes widen and my heart leaps, but then he grins mischievously and I want to kill him. "Don't worry, she's with my mum." When I jump up with a start, he chuckles. "Or maybe it was the maid. . . Wait, which of them has black hair?"
"Why?" I plop back down on Max's lap, finding him more tense than before I bounced up. "Why torment me?"
"It's our bit." He shrugs, nonchalant. "Looks like I pissed off Maxipad though. Oh how I've missed that."
Twisting to face my husband. . . my husband.
He's here.
I let out a peaceful sigh and cuddle his neck tightly, nuzzling in deep. Then I straighten to smooth the knotted brows above his uncertain gaze. "Max. She's fine. She loves the maid. They hunt fairies together. Lisa makes a trail with flowers and they follow them. . . She doesn't like him though," I admit, smirking playfully as I point at Clay.
"What?" Relaxing in his chair, he crosses his ankle over the top of his knee. "That's not true. We played hide and seek just yesterday."
Giggling, I say, "Yeah. And she left you hidden."
"I can't compete with Bronson," he states, folding his arms across his chest. "He has an unfair advantage; they have the same maturity level."
"What about Butch?" Xander says straightaway. "Such a soft cock."
Butch lifts his head, pride plastered across his strong features. "I'm her favourite."
Xander shakes his head through a chuckle, staring at Max. "When Cassidy called us from the hospital to tell us that she had a girl, Butch hung up, opened The Balvenie forty-year-old single barrel, and drank the entire thing."
They all laugh, but I feel Max's heart suddenly rampant against my body. He grips me as though I am his lifeline, like I am the one now grounding him. As to not twist around and alert his brothers to how unsettled he is, I just lean back into him, breathing in the scent of perfect masculinity. When my head rolls against him to let him know he's not alone, that I feel his trepidation and it's alright, his arms encircle me tighter in response. He's transitioning and I am right here for him. The light to his dark. My stomach knots up just thinking about what it would feel like to learn all about your own daughter from second-hand information. I wriggle against him, drawing his mind to me and away from the thoughts plaguing him.
"We can move out tomorrow," I whisper sweetly. "Just me, you, and Kelly. You’re her hero, Max. Don't worry."
His rough exhale fans my hair. "I'll be earning that title, little one."
The boys are still chuckling and teasing each other when Max clears his throat. "I spoke with Knight." He's obviously over talking about his daughter and having no anecdote of his own to share.
Everyone quiets down.
"I couldn't tell you any earlier. Couldn't trust the guards not to read the letters. Couldn't trust anyone. . . except a Butcher, with this information, and they're all in this room."
Butch clasps his fingers together. "Straight to business then?"
Max nods. "You need to know now."
Clay swings in his chair, eyeing Max, unreadable as always. "I hear he died in prison."
"Prison justice. No one saw what happened," Max confirms, flexing his arms around my middle. Turning his head towards Konnor, he says, "He told me that Dustin paid him to kill you."
Konnor blinks, not at all surprised. That's what we expected to hear. "Okay."
Max sighs for a minute. "Kill you."
Butch's eyes narrow on Max. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that Dustin paid to have Konnor taken from his bed and killed. But he was approached by another man.
This man offered him twice the amount to keep him alive. Keep him in a basement. For as long as it took. Just in case one day, this man had a use for him."
I strain for breath.
Konnor sinks down into a nearby seat, thrusting a hand through his hair and dragging it back down his face. All of the Butchers are fixed on Max, awaiting further information. The energy crackling around us is like the beginning of a current that has no end. Clay tightens, suspicious and analytical. Xander rubs his hands down his jeans, perhaps a nervous reaction to the impending news. Bronson just stares, shadowed by a palpable darkness that has little restraint.
Max levels them with his eyes. "Jimmy fucking Storm."
My mouth drops open and I exhale the words, "Oh my God."
Rolling his fingers into his palms, Butch squeezes until his knuckles turn bone-white. He beats his fist onto the desk. "Pocca miseria!"
I flinch, curling into Max.
Butch stares at Konnor, anger like I've never seen before raging in his eyes. "He was going to use you against me," he hisses. "He knew this whole time."
Clay uncrosses his legs, leans forward onto his knees, and cups his forehead. "Fuck." Concern shines through a crack in his usually guarded and emotionless manner.
"You know what this means? Made-men don't lie to made-men," Xander says, standing up. "Jimmy broke a vow. This is war."
War. . .
I start to scratch a layer of pink polish off my nail. War means casualties and I only just got Max back. Before I can object, Bronson steps forward, rousing our attention.
He grins and it's anything but nice. "Not for you, Xander."
Xander frowns at his big brother, but Bronson just continues, shifting his gaze to each of us. "This means nothing for any of you. Be good little Butchers." He shares a meaningful exchange with Max and Clay "Work for the City. Stay clean. Be family men."
Nodding his agreement, Butch states, "Nothing changes. We plant ourselves in the City. We let Jimmy think he's the head and-"
"The fish rots from the head." Bronson's winks at Max. "One of his favourite sayings. . . I'm going to be the rot. I'm going to deteriorate that fucker. And he won't even know that it's happening."
"Dustin is mine," Max says through a low growl while my breath shudders at the mention of his name. Dustin.
"No," Butch bites out. "I won't see you lose more years and you can't leave the District while you're on parole. They will have eyes on yo-"
"I'll hunt him down for you, my beautiful brother. Bring him to you," Bronson states, vengeance playing with his wicked smirk.
Offering Konnor a quick glance, wanting to reach out to someone on my wavelength, I find only determination in his eyes. A flare of acceptance. He's ready for the people who hurt him to pay for their crimes. I blink at these dangerous men I call my family. And I feel my lips curl, curl up into a smile.
I’m ready for that too.
My mother once told me that 'if you avoid conflict to prevent a battle, you often start a war in your heart.'
My heart belongs to Max. And I am willing to support him in this battle. His family - my family - is the most powerful family in the District and they don't need to bully the innocent. Taunt the lambs and the deer. They don't hurt people like me. Butch should be at the head. At that thought, my heart picks up pace. I want to watch him put a torch to the District's web of lies because now I know exactly who will burn along with it. . .
Jimmy Storm.
I softly stroke my fingernails down Max's forearm, over the red and black tattoos, little hairs rising in response to the gentle stimulation. His sigh rumbles behind my spine.
I'm with you, menace.
To the end.
Harris' notes: A bittersweet goodbye.
* * *
Dear Max and Cassidy,
* * *
So I was going to write a note to your readers, but instead, I drank a bottle of red wine and this is the result. . .
* * *
You are my favourite book couple. Two individuals with strength and promise and yet, unknowingly living a kind of half existence.
* * *
Cassidy with your beauty and talent and hopefulness. Your brother's trauma cloaked a shadow over your life, but you never held any resentment. You are pure and kind.
* * *
And Max, with your intelligence and no-bullshit and inner gentleness. You were forced into a life that bred toxic masculinity and crushed weakness, but you managed to hold on to your integrity.
* * *
You shine a light on each other, illuminating hidden pieces and becoming whole.
* * *
I wanted to break you out of prison, Max. Have you snatch Cassidy away and run, to another place, to a different book world, and protect her and Kelly. I wanted you to be there throughout the pregnancy, irrational in your pursuit to protect her while she's in, as you would put it, a ‘delicate condition.'
* * *
I daydreamed about you in the delivery room with her, scowling at the doctors and then tearing up when you hear that first high-pitched cry. I imagined you being unwilling to share your baby with anyone besides your wife, being the one to bottle feed her every night so that Cassidy can get some sleep. . . Kelly falling asleep on your chest.
* * *
I'm sorry I didn’t give you those moments.
* * *
But I did give you the happily ever fricking after. The house. Marriage. Baby. Placemats. . . peace will come later. . .
Bronson will make sure of it.
This is Bronson Butcher’s story. . . things are going to get CRAYZAY. . .
“She slapped me, kissed me, and then saved my life. And that was all before I even knew her name.
What can I say?
I like that in a girl.”
* * *
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More than wine.
More than a cuddle.
* * *
Goodreads & Amazon.
Editorial notes: How could you?
* * *
Dear Nicci,
* * *
An editor shouldn't have favourites. I love every story I work on. . . But this one? Jeebus.
* * *
I have screamed and cried over Cosa Nostra. I have cursed you and called you a genius. This book, this couple, is definitely one of my all time favourites, and you're a monster for making it end. And that ending! Ugh. That tore me up. How could you?
* * *
Max crying. Cassidy crying. Me crying...
* * *
This book had all the feels and I am both nervous and excited to edit the next one. Because I love Bronson, and I know you're going to make him hurt. You're going to tear him apart to build him back up and that is going to absolutely wreck me. Going to kill me as I suggest ways to twist that knife even further. . .
* * *
Perhaps one day, you can write an alternate universe where the boys didn't grow up surrounded by so much darkness. And then another with Max and Cassidy meddling in Kelly's love life as she falls in love. Basically, just keep writing this series, this world, so my favourite couple never ends.
* * *
- Mri Grout @writingevolution. www.writingevolution.co.uk
Have you read book one?
He is desperate to remember.
She will destroy everything to forget.
* * *
Konnor: Up until now, my life has been a mirage of sorts. Of dark, lonely places. Of bourbon and women. I don't care. I think I'm pretty happy really.
But then she happens. . .
* * *
Blesk: He wants me. He'll do anything, drop everything, to have me. But when he uncovers who I am and what I've done, he'll rue ever facing me.
I've already buried everything he loves. . .
* * *
We both have secrets. Mine are harrowing. His, hear
t-breaking. Just merely being together threatens to expose everything we have tried to escape.
* * *
Will finally facing our past bring us peace or. . . spark chaos?
* * *
Get Book!
Have you read book two?
It is the start of something beautiful. . . .
“ Wow. I did enjoy Blesk and Konnor in book one but I LOVE Max and Cassidy. The world isn’t always black and white or good and bad. Max is part of a dark world and Cassidy is in the light” - Samantha.
* * *
Blurb:
She's a good girl with the whole world at her feet.
He's a bad boy with his foot on the world.
* * *