by Dee Garcia
Because a memory is all he'd ever be.
The one that got away.
Reaching out, I traced the line of his jaw, the bow of his lips, and the arch of his eyebrows. How could one man be so perfect? How could he be so selfless and kind, especially after all that happened? I’d almost killed him, and he’d almost let me. He had every right to fight back, to knock me senseless and call for help, to disarm me of my weapon and thrust it through my heart.
But he didn't.
He just laid there, half-horrified, half-confused, and in the end, he'd allowed me temporary residence in his bed, whispering words of promised forgiveness while his fingers combed through my hair. He was too good of a man for a fucked-up world like this, and he was certainly too good for someone like me.
It was with that painful thought in mind that I pressed one last kiss to his cheek, slipped out from underneath his arm, and padded quietly around the room to collect my scattered belongings. Seeing that blade on the worn carpet shook me to my core, instantly reminding me that Xander could have been dead had the conversation not turned so abruptly when it did.
I’d never once questioned those who earned their way onto my list, mostly because their files said it all, but Xander was different right from the get-go. A part of me understood why Daddy was at his wits end, yet the other half of me couldn’t get past the fact that the circumstances leading Xander to borrowing money in the first place were clearly out of his control. How could my father not see that? How could he not sympathize with that?
Once I was dressed, my favorite black pumps in hand, I stole one last glance at Xander from over my shoulder and disappeared into the wee hours of the morning, wondering what in the hell I was going to tell my father. I’d promised Xander I was going to help him out of this mess, but I had not a clue as where to start. Daddy didn’t just forgive a debt because Alessio or I thought they deserved freedom; in fact, he didn’t forgive debts at all. Could I even tell him what I’d done?
The short walk to my car was chilling, the cool autumn air breaking out goosebumps along every inch of my skin. I shuddered and slid into the driver’s seat, shutting the door as quietly as possible before shoving the key into the ignition, my heart heavy with grief and guilt as I began to drive away. Needing a distraction from my inner turmoil, I scooped up my phone from the passenger seat and illuminated the screen, an array of unexpected notifications greeting me. Six missed calls, five unread texts…
Ugh.
I waited until I pulled up to the first red light a few blocks away to quickly scroll through the messages.
Daddy: Petal, I tried calling you but it went to voicemail. I just wanted you to know that your brother finally sat up earlier this evening. Not for very long, but still, it’s improvement. If you’re out, please be careful. I love you.
Alessio: Did you hear from Pa?
Alessio: Gio sat up, Petal. He asked me for you…
Luca: Even when I want to be angry with you, I can’t. I’m sorry…
Daddy: I just got home from the hospital and you’re not here. I’m getting worried. Please let me know you’re okay.
“Fuck.” I sighed, chucking my phone back into the passenger seat, only for it to hit the door and bounce off onto the floor.
The light sprung to green and I stepped on the gas, turning up the volume on the radio, the eerily ironic lyrics of “Human” filling the car as I left the streets of the Bronx behind. I knew without a doubt that Daddy would be awake when I finally made it home, probably holed up in the library with a book in his hands, waiting not so patiently to ask where I’d been all night. I might’ve been a grown woman, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t demand an answer. After the soured operation at LeRoux’s last month, he’d developed a new habit of constant worry. Not that he didn’t worry before, but it was infinitely worse now, and no matter how often my brothers and I checked in, he wasn’t satisfied until we made it home in one piece. How was I going to explain myself though? How was I going to lie to my father’s face, something I’d never done before, and tell him I’d put Xander to rest? How was I going to keep Xander safe?
I was no closer to any of the answers when I pulled in past the gates to the semi-circular driveway of our family estate, parking in my usual spot behind Alessio’s S-Class. The only car missing was Matteo’s.
Shocker.
He was probably on his way home now, after sneaking out of some poor woman’s apartment without so much as a goodbye. I rolled my eyes at the mere thought and stepped out onto the cobblestones, my feet bare, and tiptoed up the stairs, jamming my key into the lock as quietly as possible. Nothing but silence welcomed me as I slipped in through the door and shut it behind myself with a soft click. The antique table lamp in the formal living room was on, as were a few other random lights in the house to illuminate the way. Daddy always left them on for us.
Shuffling up the grand staircase at lightning speed, I padded down the hallway, hoping like hell Daddy was passed out. But as I approached the library, I noticed the door was cracked and a sliver of light shone underneath.
Damn it.
Clutching my pumps and my phone to my chest, I inched my way closer, listening intently for any sounds within the room. It was as silent as the rest of the house, though, and with a deep breath, I sprinted past the door only to come to a screeching halt when I heard a rough, “Eden.”
Scrunching my face up, I mentally cursed myself for being so stupid, and retreated backwards several steps, pushing the door open with the tips of my fingers.
Daddy was sprawled out on the espresso-colored plush leather couch, his feet crossed at the ankles, a book nestled in his hands. He glanced at me from over the rim his reading glasses, his eyebrows raising to his forehead curiously.
“Good morning to you, too. Care to tell me where you’ve been?” His booming voice was all the more intimidating and raspy, probably from lack of sleep.
I stood frozen at the threshold like an errant child who’d just been caught sneaking back into the house. “I was, um, staking out a mark.”
“And who would that be?” he questioned, shutting the book with a loud smack that nearly startled me out of my own skin.
Thinking back as quickly as possible to the last mark I’d told Daddy about, also known as Nathaniel “the crack addict” Prescott, I blurted out the name that followed. “Fernando Solano.”
“And? How’s he doing?”
“Well, um, I followed him around the city for quite a while and when he finally parked up outside O’Malley’s, I realized it was much too crowded for me to make a move.”
“I see,” he said, rising to his feet, and I swear if I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought he knew I was lying.
Discarding the book he was reading onto the coffee table, he sauntered over to where I stood, flipped off the light switch on the wall, and hooked an arm around my shoulders as he shut the door. We trailed down the hallway in silence, my heart sledgehammering in my chest the entire time, and when we reached my bedroom door, he cupped my cheeks in his hands and kissed my forehead.
“Tomorrow, well really, today is another day. Get some rest, Petal. I’m sure you’ll figure something out when you wake up.”
I nodded and turned the curly handle, taking all but five steps into my room before I spun around and said, “Daddy?”
He froze halfway through the double doors of his chamber and peered at me over his shoulder.
“I love you,” I blurted out.
One corner of his mouth tilted up in a small smile. “I love you, too, baby girl.”
You know those falling dreams? The ones where you're suddenly falling off a cliff or the elevator breaks, plunging you to your death, but you never live to see yourself die because you jolt awake before impact? Yeah, well that’s how I awoke, gasping and sweating, just hours after Eden tried to kill me. That’s how the dream went too, which would make it a fucking nightmare rather than a dream. It was a vivid replay of the entire encounter with th
e morbid addition of what the ending really could’ve been like. She was on top of me, dragging the blade up my chest, a sinister expression marring her beautiful features as though she enjoyed it. The closer she inched toward my throat, the smaller my voice became, leaving no room to talk her down as I’d managed to do in real life. Then, just as she was about to drag the blade across my throat, a blood-curdling scream erupted from deep within, and all around me went black.
My body shuddered and my eyes snapped open to the dark of night shrouding my bedroom, rivulets of sweat trickling down my face, dotting the rustled sheets beneath me. Taking a deep breath, I willed myself to calm down, mostly because Eden was still curled up beside me and I didn't want to startle her, but then I realized the weight on my arm was gone, and so was she.
Turning my head to where she’d fallen asleep after endless tears and agonized apologies, I was met with an empty, cold bed. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought I dreamt the entire thing, but it was too real and too fresh to be considered some convoluted figment of my imagination.
Aside from Mama’s diagnosis and the few times she'd been taken to the hospital, I don't think I'd ever been so scared in my life. Eden went from a delectable midnight snack to a vicious, crazed killer with one blink of my eyes. It was like flipping a switch and watching the room illuminate with a demonic red glow. I was powerless to stop her too. While my brain screamed for me to defend myself, my body ceased to make even the slightest move. Panic crippled me as the dark shadow of death loomed over me, ready to suck the life from my veins and drop me six feet under. The blade, although it never actually pierced me, felt as though it was filleting my skin, burning the length of my rattling torso and searing the memory in my mind for all eternity. I’d honed the art of blocking out the hurtful memories of my life, but this, this would stay with me forever.
Trudging out of bed, I padded into the small en suite bathroom and flipped open the faucet, splashing my face with ice cold water to subdue the unwanted images that threatened to drive me mad over time. Could anyone blame me though? I was attacked, in my home, by a woman I’d brought home after a few drinks and easy conversation. Something I’d done countless times before. I never would've expected it, especially from her, but as I'd thought in the minutes my life was on the line, I definitely should have.
Scarsi was after me, and now, the person he'd sent to kill me hadn't seen her end of the deal through. She promised me she'd handle it, handle him, but would she? Had our undeniable connection forced remorse upon her, remorse that could bleed away once she was no longer in my presence? After all, she'd left without saying goodbye. She’d also admitted he’d kill her if he learned of her setting me free. Would she really put her own life at risk, all to protect me?
No, probably not.
Sucked to say, but it was the truth.
Whatever had consumed us both tonight wasn’t enough to guarantee her loyalty. Had any of it been genuine on her part to begin with, or had it all been part of the plan she'd claimed not to have?
Shuffling back into bed, I wrapped myself in the sheets, various thoughts of what the future held for me playing out in an unwelcome reel. It wasn't going to be easy, not by a long shot. Every day was going to be a struggle, more so than it was before. I’d have to watch my back at all times, while still trying to revive Royce’s and take care of Mama.
Mama…
Gasping, I shot up in horror, my heart galloping wildly. Would he? No. I gulped. Would he really come after Mama? Inherited debt by death wasn’t stated in his terms, but at this point, anything was possible. My stomach roiled in distress, fear trickling through my veins, the uncertainty of it all a nasty bitch that made the situation a million times worse. One thing was for certain, though. I couldn’t leave anything to chance. In one way or another, I was going to have to make sure Mama was safe. I just didn’t know how I was going to go about doing so. She’d declined having a sit-in nurse to keep her company many times before, so naturally I knew she’d decline one now, and unless I had an extremely plausible reason in which to force one on her, she would never agree. But I couldn’t very well tell her why it was paramount for her to have someone around at all times. She’d keel over and die right then and there. If she ever found out I’d borrowed so much money, all to save Dad’s shop, she’d likely kill me herself. Growing up, I used to hear horror stories of innocent people being murdered at the hands of mobsters, all for owing these bastard loan sharks money. Mama made me promise I’d never go down that road, no matter how much I needed the cash, but Royce’s was all we had left of my father, and I loved it just as much as he had. Letting it die altogether wasn’t an option I was willing to entertain, hence why I went to Scarsi in the first place.
Obviously, that wasn't the brightest idea, and in some ways, I already regretted it, but it was the only option I'd had back then. All I could do now was hope that Eden would keep her word and that Scarsi wouldn't come threatening Mama in return.
“Thanks for coming,” Jade coos behind me as I step out on her front porch.
When I swivel around to say my goodbye, she’s posted up against the doorframe, in that teeny robe that leaves nothing to the imagination. Not like I need to imagine anything; I’ve seen it all. The outline of her nipples draw my eyes to her chest. They linger for a beat before dragging up to her sweet face. Hazel pools sparkle. She smiles knowingly and crooks a beckoning finger, all but yanking me toward her as I inch forward.
“You sure I can’t convince you to stay the night,” she murmurs into my ear, loosening the belt of her robe. The silk material gives away, parting enough to reveal smooth tanned skin. Supple tits, a slim waist, hips and ass for days. She’s a luscious little thing, the complete opposite of Eden and her petite curves.
Eden…
The mere name should make me shudder but I can’t get her out of my head. Every minute I’d spent with her last night replayed randomly—and frequently—throughout the day. And it’s not because I’m afraid of her, she’s just...I can’t even explain it.
“I’ll take that as a no,” Jade quips, walking her fingers up my chest.
I shake my head to clear the images of Eden unraveling under my touch and focus on the woman in front of me. She’s falling for me, I know she is, and while she served the distraction I needed, I just don’t feel the same.
I can’t feel the same.
Blonde hair. Baby blues.
The shadow of death is all I can see…
Jade: Hey, handsome.
Sighing in nothing but frustration, I locked my phone and slipped it back into my pocket, mentally berating myself for letting my dick call the shots with this one. Jade was supposed to be a one night thing, as they all were; a quick bite to eat, a few drinks, easy flirting that led to a few hours in my bed. But one night somehow turned into two and two then turned into three, and four, and five.
Truth is, Jade really was a catch. She had a good head on her shoulders and was quite sexy, too, but bottom line was, I didn't feel the same. Not to mention I didn’t have time for anything serious.
Especially now.
It'd been a few days since the whole Eden debacle and I was no more certain of what to expect for the weeks ahead than I was when she tossed the blade to the floor and promised her help. Not a word from Scarsi had come my way either nor did anything feel off balance. All appeared normal when I left to and from work, and Mama made no complaints of any suspicious activity.
Had Eden really come through for me or was it simply the calm before the storm?
My phone vibrated again, pulling me away from troubled thoughts. Fishing it from my pocket, I glanced at the message displayed on my screen and blew a breath out through puffed cheeks.
Jade: I'm beginning to think our little fling has come to an end. Maybe I'm just jumping to conclusions, it's the over-analyzer in me, but I haven't heard from you in a few days and I guess I'm just thrown off. I hope you're okay.
Damn it.
I read and re
-read her message several times, unsure of how to respond. I’d wanted an out and this was the perfect time to make it clear and set things straight once and for all. Leading women on wasn't my style. I prided myself on that. It wasn't fair to neither her nor I to keep this thing simmering if there was no chance of it becoming anything more. And I knew she wanted more. She may not have openly admitted it, claiming to be okay with the little I'd laid out on the table, but I knew deep down she hoped for more. Hoped that by spending more time together, I'd give in to the connection we’d formed, and I'd let her in. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case.
Knowing what I had to do, I typed out a quick response, praying she’d be as understanding as I thought she was.
Me: I’m okay, just have a lot going on at the moment. You’re a sweet girl, Jade, and you deserve someone who can give you their all. I know friendship isn’t usually what one hopes for with a situation like ours, but either way, I’m throwing it on the table. If you ever need anything, a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen, anything, please don’t hesitate to call me.
As soon as the message bubble popped up in our thread, I felt like I could breathe, like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I wasn’t looking forward to her reply, but nonetheless, it had to be done. Three little dots began bouncing around on my screen, and I wondered what she could be thinking at this moment. Had I hurt her? Had she been expecting it? From the sound of the last text she’d sent me, I’d think she was. ..
Jade: I had a feeling this was coming since the other night, but I understand. You were straight with me from the get-go and I never should’ve expected anything more than the first date you so kindly agreed to. I have to say, you’re a really good man, Xander. Most men nowadays wouldn’t have had half the balls to do what you just did. You’re going to make some woman very, very happy one day.