The Reckoning

by S. L. Scott

  “Not once?”

  I glare at him like he’s the big fucking idiot he’s acting like. “No, not once. We haven’t fucking kissed or anything. Nothing happened.”

  “Huh?” He takes another pull of his beer, and then says, “It’s not public. We can silence her and settle.”

  “If I settle, that’s like me admitting I’m guilty, like I’ve done something wrong.”

  “No. It doesn’t have to mean that. Just means she can’t make this public. It will go away.”

  Standing up, I pace, my thoughts a mess as all the damage this will cause comes to light. “Holliday will leave me. She’ll think I lied to her. She can’t find out about this, Tommy. We’ve got to make this go away.”

  “There’s no easy way to make it go away. The lawyers need to meet with you to discuss the options, but you’re gonna have to deal with it.”

  I rub my eyes, hoping to see some light when I reopen them. None is found and I realize this is what people mean when you witness your own world crashing down around you. Picking up my beer, I want to throw it. I want to see it shatter against the rocks that line the waterfall. But I want to drink it more. I down it and go inside for another. With the fridge door open, I finish the next, then pull out another and pop the metal cap off, tossing it into the sink across the room.

  “I think you should tell Holli,” Tommy says coming into the kitchen.

  “Our relationship is balanced on a tight rope right now. This news will destroy her and she’ll fucking leave me.”

  “You didn’t sleep with Ashley, so it’s her word against yours, but Holli should know and you should be the one to tell her. You know secrets don’t stay buried forever.”

  Crazy thoughts are rampant as I come to grips that this is happening. This is how things are going to go down. In the midst of the insanity, I find clarity. “It’s a trap. Ashley wins either way. If I deny it and fight her, the media finds out and will persecute me in the press. If I settle, she wins however fucking much she’s asking for. Rubbing my temple, I say, “Either way, I’m fucked with Holliday.”

  “She’ll understand.”

  “What woman would understand this? She’s pregnant with my baby and I accused her of fucking some other guy and getting knocked up. I’m damn lucky to even be standing here. She can’t take another blow like this. The stress alone is bad for her.” Punching the air, I say, “I need to fucking hit something.”

  “Let’s talk in the gym then.”

  “That’s too sensible.”

  “At least you haven’t lost your sense of humor.”

  I send him a hard glare. Once we’re in the room, I head straight for the punching bag. Tommy holds the other side and I swing as hard as I can. With my eyes trained on the bag, I ask, “How do we end this quickly and quietly?”

  “As I said, you need to talk to the lawyers, but it seems settling will be the fastest and quietest.”

  “Fuck her! I’m not settling. If this goes public, it will go public that she’s a lying bitch by taking a paternity test.”

  “This isn’t gonna be a one shot thing. It will be dragged out for months in the media if you go that way. Do you want that hanging over your head? Do you want to have your kid with Holli while the world thinks you’re disowning another? There are repercussions either way you choose. I think you need to tell Holli and the two of you decide.”

  Five rapid hits and my knuckles crack. As blood speckles my skin, I crouch down, trying to catch my breath and forget about the pain. Holliday. Baby. Hospital. Stress. “She’s gonna leave me, Tommy. I’ve put her through hell. I’m not good for her or the baby. She needs to be safe, feel protected. I love her more than life, but I’m the one causing her the most pain.”

  Coming around the bag, he shoves his hands in his pockets just as I stand up. “Don’t underestimate her. She’s gonna be pissed and probably hurt. But she’s strong and she loves you despite your bullshit. Give her time after you tell her. Let her process it on her own and go from there.”

  “Times like these I wish I still did drugs.”

  “Times like these are when a man’s true character comes out. What kind of man do you want to be?”

  I’ll sound like a pussy for saying this, but I don’t care anymore. “I want to be the man who deserves her and a father the baby looks up to.”

  “Then be that man.”

  “I’ll tell her soon.”

  That night I watch her. She notices, but doesn’t say anything until she’s drying dishes. “Why are you staring at me?”

  Sitting at the bar, I say, “It’s hard to take my eyes off you.”

  Her innocent smile shoots daggers straight into my heart. I gulp heavily and look away, the sight of her beauty crippling my logic. I should tell her, but I don’t want to lose this moment. I have to protect her. I have to protect the baby. At all costs.

  Protecting her means being honest with her these days. I need to tell her.

  “Dalton?”

  When she calls, I turn back. “Huh?”

  “I was talking. Did you hear anything I said?”

  “No, I’m sorry. What was it?”

  “What’s going on? You okay?”

  “Fine.” There’s an edge to my answer I wish I could dull. “I’m fine.”

  After hanging the towel on the rack, she moves to the other side of the bar from me and asks, “Want to talk about it?”

  “I want to enjoy our night.”

  “Is it something we should talk about?”

  I slide my hand over hers. Honesty. “Yes.”

  Her eyes fasten on mine. I see the tentativeness in them, the trust disengaging. “You know that makes me worry, right?”

  “Yes. I told you knowing that.”

  “Then why don’t you want to talk about it?”

  “I want tonight to be like today.”

  Her expression softens and she smiles. “It’s been a good day.”

  “It’s been a great day.” She looks away and back, then says, “So you’ll talk to me soon?”

  “I will,” I reply, covering and squeezing her hand.

  “Okay.” She seems to leave it at that, her trust back in place. “Well,” she starts, her cheeks harboring a slight pink to them. “I was thinking maybe we could be together in that way.”

  My mouth quirks up on the sides, fucking bowled over by her cuteness. “And what way would that be?”

  She giggles and I almost don’t know what’s come over her, but the lightheartedness is good to see. “In the sexy kind of way.”

  “So what you’re saying is you want me.”

  She rolls her eyes though a big smile is still present. “Do you want me to beg for it?”

  “As much as I like you begging, I don’t want that.”

  Coming to stand next to me, she touches my arm and slides the other around me. She kisses my head and then my temple. “What do you want?”

  I cup her face, holding her there just so I can selfishly see this face without the pain I know will replace the peace in her eyes. I have to protect this moment, save it from being destroyed like I am on the inside. “All of you. Forever.” Leaning in, I kiss her.

  Standing between my legs, her body molds to mine as our mouths become one. She moves away with my hands in hers, tugging me forth. “Come on,” she beckons.

  Within minutes she’s above me like a goddess, her hair flowing down over her shoulders. I trace my hands along her curves as she rocks. Whispering, she says, “Why are you staring at me?”

  “I’m taking you in, wanting to remember this.”

  Resting her palms on my chest, she asks, “What’s ‘this?’ ”

  “Heaven.” Taking her by the hips, I help navigate her closer to release. Seconds. That’s all it takes as I gaze up at her. Her eyes close, her nails scraping my skin as her body tightens around me. Her orgasm is strong, hitting her fast while I hold her hips, moving her. My own eyes close hoping to find that same pleasure, but my mind is attached to the de
vastation to come. Even the negative can’t fight this. She feels too good and my body relents to her.

  An hour later, she’s asleep and I sneak out of bed. It’s only ten, so I’m wide awake. I grab a bottle of Jack and a glass. I don’t bother with a shot. A lowball works better for my mood.

  I go outside, not wanting to disturb her sleep. Sitting on the patio table, I pour my first drink. The moon is out though it’s competing with the heavy cloud coverage tonight. Swirling the liquid around, I watch as it coats the sides. Bringing it to my lips, I down it all at once and pour another.

  Damn Ashley to Hell. I finish this glass and pour the third. The whiskey kicks in, making my anger rise. I throw my glass against the side of the house and yell, “Fuck you!” I flip off the world, then take the bottle and drink straight from it. I’d throw the bottle, but I learned in London that doesn’t solve anything. Another swig is taken as I stand at the edge of the pool, staring at my reflection.

  “Babe?” The softest of voices fills my ears like a melody that taunts my psyche. Just out of reach, but playing on repeat. “What are you doing, Dalton?”

  When I turn around, she’s there in my shirt. The moonlight hits her and I see her bump. Not wanting to worry her, I say, “Getting some fresh air.”

  Her eyes are sleepy. Beauty lives there, shining through. “Do you want me to get a glass for you?”

  Innocence. “No. Thanks,” I reply, rubbing the back of my neck.

  “Do you think you’ll be out here long?” She wraps her arms around herself. “It’s getting chilly.”

  “Go back to bed. I’ll be in soon.”

  “Promise?” Her expression lifts with hope.

  “Promise.”

  The door shuts and I turn back to the pool. I’ve got to do whatever it takes to protect her, to protect my family.

  The next day, I call Tommy. Desperate to get out of LA, I need to get him in on my plan. This time I’m ready with the beers. Figured it was only right since I’m asking him a favor and all.

  “What did you decide with Holli?” he asks.

  “I have a call into the lawyers. I should know how we’re moving forward in the next few days. I’m gonna tell her when there’s a plan in place. She’s going to have questions and I want to have the answers.”

  He nods. “Understandable.”

  “How’s that retirement working out for you?” I ask as he sits on the couch.

  Tommy clinks the neck of his beer bottle against mine and says, “Fine and dandy.”

  “If you’re able to retire at thirty-three we paid you too much.”

  “Eh, I’ll have to get another gig eventually, but the time off has been good for the most part.”

  “You’re gonna work for the competition?”

  “I guess I’ll have to unless some asshole musicians I know get off their asses and start making music again, like they should.”

  “Subtle.”

  “I wasn’t going for subtle, ya asshole.”

  I turn away from him and look out over the backyard. “Hypothetically, what would you think about working for me?”

  “Hypothetically, doing what?”

  “Doing what you do, but on a smaller scale.”

  He rubs his chin, thoughtfully. “What kind of smaller scale are we talking about, hypothetically speaking, that is?”

  So there’s no misunderstanding, I look him in the eyes. “Small venues—bars, clubs. Places that hold hundreds, not thousands.”

  His eyes go wide. “Touring solo?”

  “Yep. Hypothetically speaking.”

  “Fuck the hypothetical. You’re going solo with an actual tour?” he asks in disbelief.

  “Not a tour. A few clubs. Unannounced. I want real music lovers, not Resistance fans flooding the place.”

  “Multi-city?”

  “Texas. Maybe LA.”

  “All of Texas or certain cities?”

  “Austin.”

  “So you want to play clubs in and around Austin, but not advertise? Just surprise performances?”

  “Yep.”

  His excitement grows and he sits straight up. “How many?”

  “Four or five.”

  Scoffing, he shakes his head and says, “You don’t need me for this.”

  “You’re right, but I want you there.”

  He starts laughing. “Aww man, you’re such a pussy. You scared to play shows without me?”

  “Ha! Nah, I’ve just gotten used to your ass being around.” When I look over at him again, I roll my eyes. “Okay, what the fuck ever. I want you there. Happy?”

  “I’ll be happier once we negotiate the pay.”

  “Same pay as before.”

  “Wow, you really do want me there.”

  “Shut it before I change my mind.”

  His bottle taps against mine and he says, “Looks like we’re back in business.”

  “What is it about fresh air that makes us cough so much.” ~ Johnny Outlaw

  Dalton and I leave LA under the scrutiny of the paparazzi. Arriving in Austin is more peaceful. The media was tipped off, but this city has fewer soldiers on the ground so we only have to deal with a handful when we land. Dalton holds my hand as if I’ll slip away from him if he doesn’t. His head is lowered and his body becomes a barrier between them and us.

  The usual rude comments fly from their mouths, saying the baby is Sebastian’s and asking Dalton why he stays with me. From how tight he holds my hand, I can feel how tense Dalton is. I feel guilty he has to listen to this garbage.

  A loud exhale releases from him as soon as the taxi pulls away. A minute later, he says, “I hope you like the place we rented.”

  “I’m excited to see what you picked out.”

  Forty-five minutes later, we arrive. The gate opens and there are two cars waiting in the driveway. The house is ranch style and rustic, and nothing like I was expecting. The cab leaves and when the gate closes, he says, “I know it doesn’t look great from the outside—”

  It’s so quiet here. I can hear nature surrounding us. “It’s perfect.”

  “This is nothing. Let’s go in.” He carries the luggage inside as I walk to the panoramic window at the back of the house.

  The view is stunning and private and I can’t see another house no matter how hard I try. “This is amazing.”

  “I’m glad the view lives up to the photos.”

  Turning around, I say, “I’m surprised you didn’t rent a condo downtown so you could be in the heart of the action.”

  “I don’t want to be in the chaos. I want to be with you and this,” he says, turning back to the view. “I want to write music and perform the songs I’ve written without worrying about neighbors.” I go to him and lean my back against his chest. His arms come around me and we look out together. “The doctor’s right. You’ve popped out a lot more in the last few weeks.”

  While he rubs his hands over my stomach lovingly, I say, “I know. Even my yoga pants don’t fit anymore.”

  His breath tickles my ear when he whispers, “You’re so beautiful. You amaze me every day.”

  He beats the view any day. I turn in his arms and wrap mine around his neck. Lifting up, I kiss his chin. “Show me the bedroom.”

  I’m taken by the hand and we explore the house until we come to the master bedroom. Spun around, my back is pressed to the wall and he bends down to kiss my neck. His eyes are the shade of desire, a craving that only I can satisfy. I weaken under his touch, giving into the yearning that’s built, and igniting it on fire.

  His kisses—dedicated and hungry—become frenzied as do our bodies. I tug his shirt and he lifts it up, then tosses it. My shirt is pulled gently over my head and my skirt lowered. I remove my undergarments as I move to the bed. He stands there, watching me with an intensity, and I say, “C’mere.”

  His jeans and boxers come off before he joins me on the bed. “Take your hair down.”

  I pull the elastic out and throw it onto the nightstand. “Me on top?�
� I ask.

  “Yeah.” He lies back.

  I climb over him. Bending down, I kiss his chest while running my hands over his shoulders. I kiss the tattoos and then run my tongue over the tiger. He reacts by pressing himself between my legs. My heavy breath comes out like a moan and I say, “I want to christen this home.”

  “I want to christen you several times over.”

  And he does—in the bedroom, the kitchen, and one last time just before dawn in the shower.

  Life is beautiful.

  He’s beautiful.

  Just a few days in the Texas hill country and I can feel the change in him, and see it. His shoulders have lost the tension he was carrying around. His face even looks more relaxed, defying his age and appearing younger. He’s been sleeping better and longer.

  “Holliday, come out here,” he calls from the balcony that seems to overlook forever.

  Walking out, I drag my fingers across his sexy butt and get comfortable on a bench against the railing, propping my arm up.

  He says, “I want to play a song for you.”

  Surprised by the offer, I sit up and ask, “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’d love to hear it.” It’s been a while since he’s completed a song and most of them he wants me to wait to hear live at the show.

  My excitement must show because he’s prefaces it with, “It’s not perfect, but it’s getting there.”

  His fingers strum twice across the acoustic guitar before he kicks into the song.

  Four minutes.

  For four minutes I sit across from him in complete awe. Not the beauty of the blue skies, nor the grace of the rolling hills capture the emotion I feel while he sings. My hands grip the railing, holding me in place, grounding me when his music makes me want to soar. The affection he sings of, the care of the melody as he plays, all of it speaks to the love he feels.

  With the last note still lingering in the air, he asks, “What do you think?”

  “Dalton,” I start, knowing words will fail the emotions I feel. “That was amazing, just wow. I didn’t expect that. I mean, I know how talented you are, but that’s so different from your other stuff.”