“It is definitely cold, but I feel like a man.”
He was a cute kid, and I couldn’t help but laugh. Rocky had three kids with another on the way. The little rascals were all about a year apart, with his oldest turning four in just a few days.
Rocky ruffled the kid’s hair. “Get your ass inside and put a shirt on.”
“Yes, sir.”
I watched as the kid clumsily climbed up the old wooden stairs. He gave me a small salute before closing the door behind him.
“He’s a riot.”
“That’s a good word for him.”
We both chuckled before bidding each other goodbye. I needed to get back to Pop’s. I needed to shower. I needed a suit.
I took the front steps slowly, two at a time. There was a loose piece of wood on the deck, a spare key and beneath it. I was about to open the door to my past, but also to my future. The key clicked the lock open, and I pushed the heavy wooden door into the foyer. A cold wind followed me in, and I was sure the snow wouldn’t be far behind it. I took a small tour, reminding myself of the time I had spent within those walls. I pushed my body up against the paneling, bracing myself for the memories, the guilt. Surprisingly, the reminders were good, warming. The memories of Pops were happy. Sure, the twinge of guilt still twisted my stomach, but I felt as though it was where it belonged. It would be hard, but for the time being, this would be my home.
Grace
It was cold. It was so cold that the chill followed us inside. Aunt Kathryn stood on one side of me, Mr. Muscles on the other. There were so many hands to shake, so many people offering condolences. I couldn’t wait for it to be over.
Members from all the Walking Shadows chapters were there to pay their respects to my father. There were stories told and laughter shared. Considering the hodgepodge of people sitting in the funeral home, there was a lot of love being spread around.
But I didn’t participate. My stare remained vacant.
“We’ll catch the son of a bitch who did this.”
I nodded to the voice. I couldn’t even count how many times I had already heard that threat.
“Do we have any idea who it was? Which Cupid killed him?
I continued nodding, out of habit, not actually hearing anyone.
It was Mr. Muscles who spoke. “It was James Cassidy’s son, Ryan.”
That’s when I perked up. “What?” I squeaked breathlessly. No one heard me.
A random chapter member put his hand on my shoulder before walking away. I frantically looked to Aunt Kathryn. “Did he just say that Ryan killed Dad?”
She pushed my hair out of my face. “Don’t worry, baby girl. We’ll find him.”
“No. We don’t have to find Ryan. It was Sean.”
“That’s not what everyone is saying.”
“It’s what I’m saying.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” My voice had found its pitch. I was angry.
“Grace, what’s wrong?” Mr. Muscles chimed in.
“Sean Cassidy killed Dad.”
“He killed James, not your father.”
“You’re wrong. I saw him.”
“I think you were overwhelmed. I was there.”
“You might have been there, but you obviously didn’t see anything. I was right there. I was right there.” I was speaking fast, but in the heat of the moment, it was necessary. Were they not looking for Sean? Did they actually think it could be Ryan?
“So was I, Grace. Sean Cassidy was not there when your father went down.”
“Yes, he was.”
“Ryan was the one holding the bloody knife.”
I lunged at him. “Take it back!”
“Grace, calm down.” Aunt Kathryn’s wrapped her arms around my flailing limbs.
“No. No. Do you not believe me? I know it was him.”
They led me out of the room. I could feel my face turning bright red. In the chaos of the fight, had no one in my family seen exactly who killed my father—no one except me? I was the one who watched in slow motion as Ryan’s uncle thrust his knife into Patrick Brennan’s back. Every time I closed my eyes, I watched him kill my father over and over again, just as I had spent almost twenty years reliving the night he killed my mother.
And now, to add pain to misery, I had a scar of my own, connecting my clavicle and navel. He had sliced his knife down my body in an effort to completely ruin me. And he had succeeded. I was ruined.
But did no one believe what had actually happened? Would I have to convince them that my truth was real?
I looked around. People were missing. “Take me to the officers. I have to talk to them.” They needed to know what really went down during the fight.
“That’s not a good idea.” Mr. Muscles shook his head.
“Where are they?”
“Grace. I think you need to calm down. When this all settles, I’ll arrange something.”
“Who do you think you are?”
Aunt Kathryn pulled me closer to her. “Let it go, Gracie.” I was becoming frantic. The worry in her eyes peaked, but it was not enough to stop me.
“No, absolutely not. I will not let this go. Where are they?”
Although he wouldn’t tell me, I saw his eyes dart to a closed door. I took that as a hint, breaking free from Aunt Kathryn’s hold. I slammed my body weight into the door and pushed through.
They were all there, seated around a table, facing me.
“Grace,” my father’s right hand man stood to address me, “we’re in the middle of something. Can we talk later?”
“No. Listen, you need to know, Sean Cassidy was the one who killed my father.”
“Grace, no. We understand you’ve been through a lot—”
“Yes, he did.”
“I think I know who I have and haven’t killed.”
The sultry, deep voice stopped my heart from beating. It couldn’t be. The chair directly in front of me swung around. It was Sean.
“No. No.” I backed up, but the wall behind me stopped my steps.
“Grace, it was all a misunderstanding, but I did not kill your father. I would never have done that. I had too much respect for the man.”
“I watched you!” I screamed at him. I didn’t care who heard me.
“You didn’t. You were traumatized.” He looked at Mr. Muscles. “You saw the whole thing, right?”
“I did. It was Ryan. I told her that before she stormed in here.”
“He’s lying!” I screamed. “They’re all lying!”
“Grace, it was Ryan Cassidy, my nephew. The man who seduced you only to get closer to your family.” He reached his hand out to touch me. I couldn’t get away. His fingers caressed my arm. “It’s all right. I’m not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you.”
His fingers moved to my chest. To any outsider, it might look as though he was trying to calm me down, but I knew what he was doing. He was getting in my head.
The rest of the room disappeared. It was only Sean and me and the memories he pulled along with him.
There was another voice. “Sean has offered to help us get revenge against the Cupids.”
“Now would I do that if I was the one who killed your father?”
“What’s your angle?” I whispered, so only he could hear me.
He gave me a crooked smile. “There’s no angle, sweetheart. I just go where the power is.”
With that, he pressed his thumb into my sliced sternum, reminding me that he was in control. I could feel the stitches giving way to the pressure.
I looked to the group, hoping to find one friendly face in the crowd, someone who would believe me.
“Don’t trust him.”
They all looked at me as though I was a sad child, making up stories in my head.
“Get her out of here.”
Mr. Muscles pulled me from the room. I was too shocked to fight him. Then, at my own request, he took me home. He escorted me up to my room and opened the door, allowing
me to step inside, and then shut the door behind me. I really was a prisoner. The evening had gone exactly the way Sean would’ve wanted. He had won.
I circled my room, trying to convince myself to calm down, but to no avail. I needed a break from my thoughts, from my memories. I needed to escape the rabbit hole I was beginning to tumble down.
The old sycamore scraped against the window, pulling me from my trance. Maybe this wasn’t the end, maybe there was another way. I eyed the strong branches, calculating, planning. Sean had only won that round. I had a way out.
Ryan
The water from the shower warmed my sweat-chilled body. I truly could have stayed under the spray forever, allowing the water to wash away my pain, but that was not an option. I stepped out onto the worn bathmat and wrapped a dark gray towel around my hips. I slid my hand across the fogged mirror, revealing my tired face in the reflection. I had let a good deal of stubble form over the last few days. While I wanted to walk away, not taking my appearance into consideration, I was reminded that this day was about Pops. I would try to look my best for him.
I slid the razor down my cheek, knocking the shaving cream into the sink with each swipe. After the final pull, I splashed water over my face and grabbed the hand towel. Much better. I rubbed my eyes and stood up straight. I pulled the bandages from my torso, as they needed changing. With the amount of boxing injuries I had incurred over the years, I was a master at redressing wounds; it didn’t even faze me. These wounds were different though. They weren’t from a match. These hit a little close to home.
How long would it be until this became easy?
I put on a suit.
I walked to the cemetery.
I watched as they put my Pops into the ground.
I sat in the metal chair, feeling utterly alone. A figure sat down next to me. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see she was small, with short blonde hair. She was wearing a giant black hat that was offering unwanted shade from the warming sun.
I would’ve said something to her, but today it didn’t matter. I didn’t care about her. I didn’t care about anyone.
I bowed my head, wishing to hide from the world. The woman next to me shifted, and then placed her small hand in mine, wrapping her fingers around my knuckles.
I knew that hand. I knew that skin. I knew that warmth. She pulled her hand away, leaving behind a small piece of paper. The words could have stopped my heart.
Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake
Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take…
“Grace?”
“Shhh.”
Certain that no one followed us home, I pulled Grace through the front door.
“What are you doing here? How did you get away?”
“I don’t know… I couldn’t… I had to…” She was stumbling over her words, but it didn’t matter to me. I was in a complete state of shock. When we were pulled from each other in the clubhouse parking lot after the deaths of our fathers, I never thought I’d see her again. It wasn’t a question. To me, it was a fact.
And yet, there she was, standing in my Pop’s house, my house. She had found me at his funeral and offered me her hand when I begged her to follow me home.
“Grace.” I moved toward her, taking her arms in my hands, but she froze and pulled away. “What’s wrong?”
“No. It’s nothing. I just…”
I knew what it was. It was the same distance I had seen in her after I pulled her off of Sean. She was still hurting. My Grace. How could I make her pain go away?
She sat on the couch, pulling her large hat from her head. She then slid off the blonde wig, allowing her beautiful red hair to fall into her face.
“Oh, thank God,” I sighed.
“Excuse me?” She eyed me.
“Ha. Sorry,” I teased, “you are beautiful either way, but…” I reached for her tousled curls, slipping them between my fingers. “Well, I do love your red hair.”
She mustered a smile. “It’s just a wig. I thought it would be a good idea, given the circumstances.”
“It was.”
We sat in silence, comforted by each other’s company, but not knowing what to say next. I would have been fine with that. Even her silence was a blessing compared to the emptiness that had filled my life for the past few days. Still, I felt as though our minutes might be numbered. Someone would be looking for her. After an eternity, I broke the tension.
“I wrote you a letter.”
Her head turned and tilted. “I wrote you one too,” she answered.
She reached into her bag and pulled out an envelope. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
We each read our letters. It was easier than talking.
When we had finished, she looked up at me, and her face blushed. There were no words, only a small nod. I could see the tears forming in her eyes.
I sat next to her, dying to hug her, but I feared her reaction, her rejection. She was closed off; she didn’t want my arms around her.
But I wanted nothing more than to hold her close. I had just watched my Pop’s body being lowered into the ground. I had said goodbye for the last time. My entire world had changed.
“I’m going to get out of this suit. Would you like something a little more comfortable?”
She softly nodded, and I led her upstairs. I pulled a t-shirt and sweatpants from my drawer and handed them to her.
“Where can I change?”
“Right here.”
“Ryan…”
Seriously? “Seriously, Grace? You know I’ve seen you naked.” I laughed, not realizing the severity of her somber state.
“I just…”
“You just what? I’m not going to jump your bones right after I just buried my father.”
“I know that.”
“Then why won’t you change in front of me?”
“I feel weird.”
“With me? God Grace, it’s not like you need to protect yourself from me.”
Her face dropped.
“What the hell? Are you scared of me?”
She took a breath before responding. “No.”
“Oh my God, you’re scared of me. What the fuck did I do?” Maybe her fear was warranted, as with each piece of dialogue my voice grew louder and deeper, but in my defense, it was not the reunion I had expected. She was supposed to be the antithesis of that terrible day. Why was she allowing it to swallow her up?
“Nothing.” Her breath was shallow.
“I must have done something to scare you like this.”
“You didn’t.” She was panicking, but I couldn’t control my anger. I tried to be reasonable. I would give her the time she needed before I touched her, but she was mine. She couldn’t deny me the sight of her body.
“Then take off your goddamn clothes.”
“Ryan, give me a second, please,” She begged.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” Her pain stung me. I didn’t do anything to deserve her closed off demeanor. I had been nothing but open with her. I deserved for her to trust me. “Turn around.”
She stared at me, reluctant to move.
“Please Grace,” my voice cracked, “I need you to trust me. Today, I need that.”
I saw a change in her eyes. She didn’t reply, only lowered her head and turned around, offering her dress’s zipper to my hand. I slowly pulled the metal down, revealing her bare back. I breathed in her intoxicating scent and felt heat rush through my blood. I lied. I could easily take her right then and there. My Pops was in the ground, but I wasn’t. My body still had needs. It would be too easy. But my stronger need was to hold her trust. Careful to not touch her skin, I turned her around to face me. Her eyes closed as I pushed her sleeves from her arms, allowing her dress to fall to the floor. I saw now why she had been reluctant to show me her naked body.
My hand came to my mouth as I witnessed her brokenness. Every min
ute since, I had gotten to see the gashes her father had inflicted upon me, but they were nothing compared to what Sean had done to her. I lost control of the situation; I needed to touch her, to heal her. I wrapped my arms around her and drew her in. She gasped and struggled, but I pulled her tighter into my chest.
“Grace. Grace. Shhh, please. You’re okay. I promise. I promise.”
And she cried. She just kept crying as I held her. Her tears prompted mine. I had tried to be dead inside. I had tried to refuse to allow that night to touch me. But now, as the woman I loved was curled into my arms, I began to grieve.
Grace
“I’m going to get out of this suit. Would you like something a little more comfortable?”
I did. My black dress just reminded me of death. I would burn it if he offered me matches.
I followed Ryan upstairs, feeling the weight of the day with each step. I cautiously trailed him into a large bedroom. Any other day and I would’ve taken a few more minutes to admire its beauty. The bed was the focal point, with its posts reaching high to the ceiling, and a rich emerald canopy, the color of Ryan’s eyes, hanging from each corner. The thick drapes matched the spattered gold accents throughout the room. An old writing desk stood in the corner, piled high with worn papers. On top of the papers lay a pistol. I felt my stomach drop before Ryan handed me a change of clothes and stole my attention.
I accepted his offering and took another look around. “Where can I change?”
“Right here.”
My breath stopped. I didn’t want him to see what was under my dress. Not now. “Ryan…”
His initial expression of hurt was one that could haunt me forever. “Seriously, Grace? You know I’ve seen you naked,” he laughed warily.
I did know that, but he hadn’t seen what my naked body looked like since Sean had gotten a hold of me. Aside from the slash between my breasts, my ribs, arms and thighs were riddled with bruises, most of them matching Sean’s grip. I was afraid of Ryan’s reaction. “I just…”
“You just what? I’m not going to jump your bones right after I buried my father.”
Betrayal of Cupids Page 3