Redeemed Love

by M. S. Brannon

  My life has changed so much in the last four years, and without him, I can manage. But, if he were to come into my life, he’d be coming into my son’s life. I cannot allow my baby to get hurt. Jeremy is very temperamental and his moods change as quickly as time. I don’t want him to be a threat to my son. I don’t want Hunter to depend on him then suddenly Jeremy is ripped from his life. Until I know Jeremy’s true intentions, I need to keep the fact he has a child in the dark.

  “Okay.” Dr. Daniels breaks up my thoughts, and I reign myself back into reality. “Mr. Evans, how’d this happen?”

  Jeremy looks to me and then back to the doctor. He sits upright and clenches his non-injured fist. I can see he is agitated and the feeling is mutual. “I was attacked at the bus station.” Jeremy turns his arm and shows the doctor his wound.

  I can’t help but roll my eyes. Attacked? Yeah. Right. The people who hang out at the bus station are junkies and my son could kick their asses, so how the hell did this former drug dealer and assassin get stabbed by a meth head? That’s probably the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard. However, he probably can’t say how he really got it. Jeremy’s eyes connect with mine, dark as tar. He’s angry. It’s written all over my face that I think he’s lying, and he knows it.

  Dr. Daniels is running his fingers over his hand, pressing on certain spots. I notice Jeremy flinch slightly from the pain. Then he flips his hand over and examines the palm side.

  “I will need you to remove your shirt, Mr. Evans, so we can get the wound cleaned. It may need stitches. I won’t know until I get your arm cleaned up, though. And we will need to get an x-ray of your hand. It’s pretty damaged.” Jeremy only nods then, with his good hand, starts tugging at his shirt behind his neck.

  There is something very sexy about a man yanking his shirt off over the back of his head. I never really realized that until Jeremy came over to use my shower. Back when I would admire Jeremy from afar, hoping one day I could be with him. I can’t really recall ever getting worked up when other men would remove their shirt in the same manner, though. So it must be a Jeremy Evans’s thing, one of the many things he’s done that would send my insides ablaze.

  I could help him, considering the broken hand, but I don’t. I stand there and watch him pull on his shirt and slowly yank it over his head. My eyes begin to stray, taking in his body. He’s leaner than when I last saw him. His muscles are even more defined than they initially were as well. The muscles in his chest and abs show me he has spent hours doing push-ups and sit-ups because each and every muscle is distinct. I feel my brain rambling on as I gawk at his fine physique.

  I can feel my breathing get faster, more labored. I want to push him down on the examining table and screw his brains out. For a moment, I forget how I’ve felt since Jeremy went to prison and the struggles of being a single mother. I forget I’m at my job and Dr. Daniels is in the room. All that consumes me is the feeling I get when Jeremy eases himself inside of me. It’s been so long since I’ve been with a man. I tried to move on from Jeremy about a year after he went to prison, but soon learned there would be no other man like him. The moment the guy started to move, I froze and pushed him off me. I couldn’t do it. The red hot desire I’ve held for Jeremy will only belong to him. It shoots straight to my core and I feel flush.

  Jeremy’s face comes back into my view and the smallest half-smile peaks at the corner of his mouth. He’s caught me watching. I’m embarrassed and irritated at my behavior. What is wrong with me? Then again, there’s that smile. He rarely does it, and it’s the one trait that’s carried over to our son.

  I quickly turn my attention back to the clipboard in my hand then attempt to gather myself.

  “Cami, I want you to feel this.” Dr. Daniels is holding Jeremy’s hand in his, pressing on it again. “Do you mind if we give the student a feel?” Jeremy nods to Dr. Daniels.

  When I snap my gloves on, Dr. Daniels directs my fingers to the top of Jeremy’s bruised hand. “Do you feel that, Cami? The fracture?”

  I get a look into Jeremy’s eyes then think of the years I’ve spent alone. I think about raising his son, barely making ends meet while I try to provide for us, and the ache in my heart from his absence. I know it’s not his fault he was gone in prison and that my actions are probably mean, but I want someone to feel my struggles. I want him to know it hasn’t been easy doing all of this alone.

  I keep my eyes connected to his as a little smirk grazes my face. It may be cruel and inhumane, but right now, I don’t want to think about anything else. When I press my fingers firmly into the broken section of his hand, Jeremy winces in pain and growls between his teeth. I push one more time for good measure, and Jeremy sucks in a tight breath then snaps his glare to me. He wants to yell at me, but he stays silent. It gives me temporary pleasure, however the cocktail of feelings are still present.

  “Okay, let’s get you taken care of, Mr. Evans.” Dr. Daniels turns around and begins cleaning Jeremy’s arm.

  He’s taken to x-ray where it’s been determined he has a broken hand, and soon after, he is fixed up. I had left the room to help with a more urgent patient, and by the time I get my last look of Jeremy Evans, he is walking from the emergency room. My heart aches once more as I feel like I’ve lost him all over again.

  As he reaches the door, Jeremy looks back for a second then slowly steps from the building. I want to run to him. I want to grab him in my arms and hold his body tightly to mine, but like I was when I first saw him, I remain frozen.

  I honestly didn’t think this day could have gotten any crazier. The last person I’ve expected to see when I walked into that hospital was Cami. Like a turn of fate, however, she was there. She seared my skin when she touched my broken hand. Yes, her deliberate infliction of pain did not go unnoticed, but after the pain subsided, all I felt was her.

  Twenty-four hours ago, I would have never thought life could have been ripping my emotions in so many directions. I knew I’d have to contend with my brothers, but not Cami. She promised me she’d be gone. Before I went to prison, she promised she would leave and never look back. So why is she still here? What kept her hanging around?

  I walk from the emergency room and debate going back in. I need answers. I need to know why she’s still here. Instead, I keep my feet moving. I don’t want to push her or make a scene at her job. And thinking of job, she’s working as a nurse? I guess the little stitching routine Cami did on my arm was fun for her. Who am I kidding; of course it was fun for her. Just like my hand, she got to inflict some pain on me.

  I walk back to my Challenger and fall into the driver’s seat. I’m stuck. I want to see Cami and hold her in my arms and kiss her lips.

  I lay my head back and think about the last time I was with her. We stayed in each other’s embrace until our time ran out. Then, in the middle of her driveway, I declared my love for her. As a tear fell from my eye and many from hers, I exposed my soul. Then we kissed. It was a kiss that got me through the roughest days of prison. While I lay in my bunk, willing the pain for my newest beating to go away, I’d think of her. As soon as she came from the depths of my memory, the pain would subside and I could last one more day. It is Cami who kept me going. When the blood was on my hands and I was too violent even for myself to stand, Cami was always there to sweep me away. She was my crutch, and I will never be able to repay her for that.

  I lean forward and start the engine. I begin to ease out of the parking lot and onto the street when a familiar walk catches my eye. The woman is five-foot-six, has beautifully rich, caramel skin, and the sexiest sway to her hips. If I were stricken with amnesia, I’d know exactly who the walk belongs to, simply because that woman once belonged to me.

  I cease to think as I drive to Cami as she walks to a bench then collapses from exhaustion. I pull my car over and park it along the street. My gut is flipping in nervousness as I approach her, watching as she digs in her bag, specifically looking for something, and then pulls out a book. I don’t know what I will
say when I get to her, but I have to speak to her. I need to know why she’s still here. I just want to be near Cami once again.

  The day is warm and the sun is shining overhead. Sweat accumulates on my brow and I can feel it sticking to my shirt. The pain meds are kicking in as the annoying ache in my hand starts to melt away. I finish walking the distance to the bench and sit down next to Cami, who is overly engrossed in a book, having no idea I’m next to her.

  I take a second to study her features. Her long, brown hair is tied up behind her head. My lips ache to kiss the curvature of her jawline. I enjoy watching the slight way she holds her breath as she reads. It makes me smile. Cami holds her book in one hand while the fingers of her other are pinching the crucifix around her neck. She fiddles with it as she reads, her very being enchanting me. She is captivating and I’m utterly stricken.

  I muster up the courage and speak, “Hi.” Cami jumps and quickly shuts her book.

  “Oh… you scared me.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper back. I bend myself forward and dig my elbows into the tops of my knees.

  I want to slide next to her and feel her skin under my finger tips, but I stay where I’m at. I have a million things to say to her, yet I can’t find a single, useful word. I don’t know what to say. Like always, my words escape me. I can feel the anger building toward myself. God, I’m such a fucking douche bag. Why can’t I just speak to her?

  “When did you get out?” Cami asks as she tucks the stray hairs behind her ear.

  “Yesterday.” There is so much to say, so much I need to say. But like the fucking idiot I am, I stammer with my words. “W-where’s your car?”

  “Ummmm, it’s not exactly running right now,” she admits and begins to nervously twist her fingers in her hand. “I’m glad you’re okay. I… I mean… I’m glad you didn’t…” Cami sputters the words out, unable say what she’s really thinking. She’s glad I’m not dead. However, I wouldn’t exactly say I am okay. Someone has to be a little more stable before they can say they are truly okay. I’m far from stable. The cast wrapped around my arm is proof of that. A person who’s okay would not have repeatedly punched a building until their hand broke.

  I smile slightly and reply, “Yeah… I wouldn’t say I’m okay, but I’ve managed to make it out alive.” This gets Cami’s attention. She turns fully to me, wide-eyed and concerned. She is a genuine person, who really cares what happens to a piece of shit like me, and it floors me. This is one of the many reasons why I love Cami; she doesn’t judge, she never has.

  “How did you hurt your hand?” Cami looks down to my cast then back to me. A big gust of wind comes up, making Cami’s stray hairs dance in the air. I want to touch her so bad it almost hurts.

  I lift my broken hand up then tuck her stray hairs back behind her ear. With the tip of my fingers, I lightly brush the outer part of her ear and trace the line of her jaw. Cami holds her breath and closes her eyes. Her long, black eyelashes fan across her cheeks, and then the smallest tear drops from her eye. I watch the lonesome water roll down her cheek and move my finger slightly to catch it on my finger.

  Pain, hurt, and agony is all I’ve caused this girl, but maybe she will be willing to give me another chance. Who am I kidding? She needs to be away from me. She should have gone years ago.

  Before I can even ask her why she’s still in Sulfur Heights, the hollow sound of the bus alerts Cami and she opens her eyes. “My bus is here; I’ve gotta go.” She collects herself and shoves the book in her bag.

  “Wait.” I grab her arm as she stands up then I stand up with her. I’m pleading with my eyes for her to just give me the opportunity to speak. However, she doesn’t.

  “Jeremy, don’t. Please, just don’t do this.” She looks back to me, and I can feel she’s hurting. But god dammit, so am I. I’m hurting to be with her. My entire body is nothing other than anger and pain.

  “Please, let me drive you home.” I’m practically groveling by her side, something I never thought I’d do, but for Cami, I’ll beg and beg again.

  “Things are different now, Jeremy.” When the bus pulls to the curb and the doors open, Cami begins to step on, but I pull her back. “Stop… please. It’s not just me anymore. I have other responsibilities. A lot has changed since you left.”

  Of course. She has moved on, just like I wanted her to do when I went to prison. She’s trying to make a life for herself, and I need to respect that. She’s still living and working in Sulfur Heights, but Cami has moved on and I can’t stop her. I won’t stop her from leaving. That is where she needs to be. She needs to live her new life, not stay in the past with me. I’m a dumb fucking idiot for thinking it would ever be otherwise.

  I should know better than to have hope—hope always leads to disappointment. Besides, let’s face it, disappointment is comfortable for me. Not hope. Not happiness. Nothing except sheer and utter failure is where I’ve always belonged.

  “Are you happy?” I ask, only wanting to torture myself even more.

  “Yes,” she whispers, and I release my grip. Cami boards the bus and the exhaust fumes blanket the air as it drives past me.

  I stand at the bus stop for a few more minutes, thinking about everyone I’ve lost in my life—my mother, father, Drake, Presley, Ronnie, and now Cami. You’d think I’d be used to people coming and going out of my life. Yet, watching Cami get on the bus, knowing she’s moved on and is happy, I can feel myself actually break inside. I can feel the longing and loneliness.

  I walk back to my car, and for the first time, I can feel my brother’s pain. I am walking in Drake’s shoes, even if only for a moment, and I understand. Cami may not be dead, but knowing she’s moved on guts me. The feeling cuts like a dull, serrated knife, and all the grief does is leave me hollow and even more jaded inside.

  The air is bitterly cold. My limbs are frozen and my fingertips are numb. The snow is dancing through the air but only lightly dusting the ground surrounding my feet.

  I continue my observation of the yard. Men of all shapes, race, size, and age decorate the enclosed space, however I remain withdrawn. I keep my back glued to the wall. It’s been my saving grace for the most part, being withdrawn and blending in. Then¸ the snake in the grass appears from behind the rec yard doors. Carter.

  He’s been in I-Max for a few months longer than me, but nothing has changed. He’s still tall, gangly, and secreting evil. My eyes solely focus on him. I look nowhere else, only keeping my eyes affixed to him. The sub-zero air fades away and my body gets hot. The beast, who’s been my life saver this past year, is alive and thirsty for blood.

  I watch Carter move cunningly through the crowd, but I remain still as stone. This is the first time I’ve seen him, and now I know his cell block has changed. He’s been moved to my wing. This fact gives me the smallest bout of joy. I will have the opportunity to strike, now more than ever. With Carter housed closer to me, I will be able to execute my plan to annihilate him.

  When the recreation doors open again, I break my gaze from Carter’s back and see my old friend quickly walking out toward me. Ronnie was stupid enough to get arrested, and now his life is constantly at risk. It will be a miracle if Ronnie can survive his four-year stint in prison. I will do whatever I can to protect him, but that isn’t much when we only interact on the yard or during meal times. He’s not strong enough to withstand what this place houses, and I can’t ignore the chill in the air as I sense something evil brewing. The men are quiet. Too quiet. The Nazi dicks have concocted something because none of them are speaking. They are lined up along the adjacent wall from me, glaring straight ahead.

  I look to the opposite side of the yard and the vibe is the same. The Latin Kings, one of the most feared gangs in I-Max are poised, ready for a battle. And then it erupts.

  Like an all-out war, the Nazi assholes charge after the Kings. As the men storm one another, some are holding homemade shanks created from trash they’ve smuggle into their cells, others have their fists drawn and ready
for blood.

  I look to one side, then the other—Ronnie. He’s walking right between the two angry mobs.

  I push myself off the wall and scream, “Ronnie!” Our eyes connect for a mere second before he’s engulfed in the fight.

  Correction officers swarm, SWAT is called. They are dividing the men.

  I run. My feet move fast, but not fast enough. When I make it to the battle zone, Ronnie is lying on his side, unconscious. The officers fall to the ground just as I drop down to my knees. Three of them are covering me with their bodies, yanking my arms behind my back. My face is smothered in the snow and my body is dying to be un-caged.

  “He’s my friend!” I scream. “He was just walking by.”

  The officers pull me to my feet just as the others are controlling the yard. Men are everywhere, bodies injured and lifeless as they lay in the snow while others are being cuffed and drug back inside. It’s utter chaos. The medical staff runs to Ronnie, and all I can see before they escort me back inside is the large pool of blood and his eyes—dull, blue, and dead.

  My body is jolted awake and the sound of terror releases from my mouth. It’s another fucking nightmare. The sweat sheaths my body from one of hundreds of images I’m forced to live with since my stint in prison; images that haunt my sleep. However, watching Ronnie die right in front of me has to be the worst. I knew prison would be the death of him, but I never wanted to witness it. He was simply walking to talk to me when he got caught in the crosshairs of a gang war.

  From that day, I vowed to control my situation as much as possible while I was in there. I wouldn’t be obvious, but I’d get a reputation. And that was, if you fuck with me, I will destroy you. I was dead set on vengeance for Ronnie, Drake, Presley, and Cami. Come hell or high water, retribution was going to be mine. I wanted to kill, and when Victor arrived as my cell mate a couple months later, I began to fulfill my debts to all those I let down. And it started with the fucker who stabbed Ronnie.