by Maya Rossi
“Brayden.” Ava shook his shoulder, laughing. She glanced at the note. “I called you twice, whatever’s in that note must be important.”
He ran a hand over his temple, pressing down on the growing headache blooming inside his head. “Where’s Jack?”
“He said he needed to go into town, that you wished to talk to me — are you all right?”
Damn it, Jack. She sat close, too close on the arm of his chair. He badly needed to breathe. When she curled a hand around his shoulders, Brayden lurched out of his chair to the windows.
She came close but didn’t touch him. “What were you reading?”
“Fan mail.”
“You still receive those?” she laughed.
In her high-pitched tone, Brayden heard her desperation and the fear that something was wrong. God, he was already ruining things for her. He turned to face her. “Yeah, it seems I have die-hard fans who stuck by me regardless and a few who still think I should be in jail.”
Ava winced. She hunched her shoulders, pushing her hands into the pocket of her jeans. Though she was never model thin, pregnancy added a lot more curves to her frame adding a solidity to her beauty. “I—ah, that’s my fault. I’m sorry.”
“Ava, that’s in the past and I don’t want to revisit it.”
“Okaaay,” she bit her lip, “if the mails bother you, I can read ove--”
“No!”
Her eyes went wide. “Brayden what’s going on?”
He forced a laugh. “I can handle the mails, I think I deserve to read them and--”
“You don’t know how much I hate that word.” She shuddered, pulling the ends of his sweat shirt tight over her body.
“What word?”
“Deserve!” Ava reached for him, holding on to his shoulders even as her eyes pleaded for him to share whatever he was hiding. “Deserve, you use that word all the time, I deserve to do this, I deserve to — no one deserves anything Brayden, whether good or bad. Stuff happens, but no one deserves it. Do I deserve to be beautiful, do I deserve to have a handsome, strong guy like you, do I deserve Max?” She cupped his cheek. “In the long scheme of things, I actually don’t but I’m grateful for this second chance. Do I deserve to have my family especially after Ryan, I don’t.”
He cleared his throat. “You don’t understand--”
“No, Brayden. No one deserves anything, good or bad. But when the good comes we’re grateful--”
“Preach, sister, preach.” Jack stopped in the doorway, rolling up a paper bag. “I need to get some supplies, I’ve called Raymond--”
“There’s no need, it’s just a mail--”
“A very detailed mail--”
“Jack stop,” Brayden sighed, “go if you want to.”
After Jack left, Ava ran her hands up and down his sides. “Is there anything you need to talk to me about?”
Brayden kissed her hungrily. “Nothing, come here.” He picked her under the thighs and lifted her to the windowsill, raking his teeth lightly, over her lips. “We’re fine.”
Round ten
Chapter twenty-nine
“No.”
“Don’t, father.”
“Leave Benjamin alone.”
“Mother will find out.”
“Father, please.”
“No, no, no. You’ll kill him, father, please.”
Ava yawned, flickering her eyes open. Unsure what had woken her, she cupped her breasts, wondering if Max was hungry. He hadn’t screamed his order for a nighttime snack yet. She noticed Brayden’s side of the bed was empty. Ava got out of bed, deciding she might as well feed Max while she was awake.
“No, please.”
She froze. The words sounded like those of a child, halting, bleak and filled with terror. Heart pounding in fear, Ava moved to the bathroom where the voice was coming from. Wedged in a corner, under the medicine cabinet was Brayden holding a conversation with no one. He sat on his haunches, tense as if poised for action. With his eyes wide open and his brows furrowed in thought, he looked wide awake and normal.
“Father, I’ll do whatever you ask, just leave Benjamin.”
“You will kill him.”
Ava crawled on her hands and knees. When she reached Brayden, she touched his wrists lightly. “Brayden?”
“I didn’t kill Ryan.”
She froze mid crouch. He sounded wide awake, except for his wide, unseeing eyes. Ava’s heart began to pound a sickening, staccato beat beneath her breasts. “Brayden?”
Her legs gave out, and she fell into him. Without warning, he struck out, striking the side of her face. She shrieked as pain bloomed on her cheek. She tried to run, but he grabbed her hand and dragged her forward so she landed against him.
“Jack!” Ava screamed. “Jack!”
As his hand closed around her throat, Jack burst into the bathroom. “Jesus, you should have called me immediately.” He got water from the bath and poured it over Brayden.
Brayden released her at once. Paralyzed with fear, Ava stared at him with wide eyes. Before her eyes, he gradually came awake, awareness leaking into those beautiful brown eyes.
“Ava?” He blinked in bewilderment. “What--” Horror, self-disgust and self-hatred slowly took the place of the surprise in his eyes. Horrified, he shouted, “No.”
“I’m all right,” Ava tried a smile. “Just a bit --”
“No!”
He pushed past her and Jack and ran out of the room. A moment later, the front door jerked open and slammed shut. She turned to a tortured Jack. He shook his head, turning to walk away. “Stop.”
“I’m sorry, Ava,” he gestured towards her cheek, “let me get ice for that.”
“Forget about me, what was that?”
“A nightmare.”
“It’s about his father, isn’t it?”
Jack sat on the edge of the bathtub. “Mainly his father, his mother, Benjamin and lately — ”
“Ryan.”
He grimaced. “The nightmares stopped, I don’t know--”
“The fan mail,” Ava said hoarsely.
“You’re right.”
“What are we going to do?”
He eyed her in disbelief. “More like what are you going to do? When you catch him in this state, don’t go near, pour water over him and he’ll be back. I’m sorry.”
“Can we--” Ava walked to the bedroom where her phone rang. She looked back at Jack. “Can you — can you check on him?”
“Of course.”
After Jack left, she picked her call, running a hand over the bruise on her cheek. It hurt with a dull throbbing pain. Ava walked to the mirror to examine the bruise. It glowed pink, stark against the creamy hue of her skin.
“Ava?” Hannah called.
“Hannah, are you all right--”
“How’s Brayden?” Hannah’s voice wet with suppressed tears. “You’ll find out soon anyway--”
“What’s going on?”
“Check your phone or your television, I’m on my way.”
The news was everywhere. Brayden’s father was Joseph Sidwell, the famous serial killer who murdered fifteen people including two teenagers almost twenty-five years ago. It explained so much, Ava realized. Brayden’s statement about deserving and his refusal to have children.
“Jesus. No wonder they hated him.”
It also explained why Janet was blackmailing him. What did Hannah say? That she had been blackmailing him for years. How would people reconcile who Brayden really was and Ryan’s death? It was the fear of that answer that propelled Ava out of the bedroom and down the stairs.
Jack and Brayden sat on the couch watching the news. Brayden watched expressionlessly while Jack watched him worriedly. When she entered, he glanced at her and away.
Ava went to sit by him but he got up and walked out. She looked at Jack in question but he shook his head. “Have you called Luke?”
“No,” Jack sighed. “I don’t think Bray’s gonna fight this.”
“No, we h
ave to convince him to fight. I’ll release a statement--”
“Saying what exactly,” he snapped viciously.
Ava raised her chin. “Saying he’s the father of my child and my partner and he has my full support and- and — we want privacy and--”
“Like that has ever worked.”
“We can’t sit by while they slander his reputation. We--”
“I’m pretty sure your word won’t carry much weight, not after you made it a mission to destroy his name the first time around,” Jack snapped.
The sound of Max’s blabbing reached her, closer than usual since he ought to be sleeping in his room. “That’s Max--” Ava rose and stopped when Brayden entered carrying his son. With Max clasped to his shoulder and her bags clutched in his other hand, there was no point asking what was happening.
Ava placed her hands on Brayden’s chest and looked into his eyes. “I love you Brayden Marshall. I don’t care who your ancestor or grandfather or mother or anything is. Am I angry you kept it a secret from me? Maybe a little but I understand. You said he was dead--”
“He is,” Brayden shouted, startling Max. “He is dead to me, we haven’t spoken in twenty-five years.”
She nodded. “Why are you letting him dictate the direction of your life? You love me, I know you do. We’ve been happy these past weeks, can’t we just… be?”
“I know what it means to be Brayden Sidwell. Even when I changed my name, that stigma followed me everywhere, I love you and I love Max.” Ava brightened, reaching her hands around his neck. Brayden stepped back. “But I don’t want him associated with me.” He kissed her forehead. “He’s got a bright future, he will be--”
“Max! Damn you, he will be whatever he chooses to be, and that’s still a long way off.” Ava cupped his cheek. “Can’t you see that’s your mother talking? That’s how she talked about Benjamin--”
“Leave.” He carefully placed Max into her arms. “Go, and don’t come back. I’ve willed everything I have to Max and you’ll get--”
“I want nothing from you.” She took his hand, eyes pleading and sad. “Brayden, please. You both are all I’ve always wanted--”
“Go.”
Round eleven
Chapter thirty
He only dropped his eyes for a second and Jack made sure he paid for it. The shot landed so cleanly it shifted his head to one side. Brayden staggered backward to keep his balance, unconsciously lowering his guard. Jack gave him no quarter, delivering another strike that caught him by the temple. By the next breath, he was laid out flat on the canvass with Jack and Sheriff watching him anxiously.
Brayden huffed a breath. “I’m fine.”
“I’m no ref, but I’ll say that was a technical knockout,” Sheriff checked Jack, “don’t you?”
“He’s not ready to return to boxing,” Jack affirmed.
With a roll of his eyes, Brayden jumped to his feet. “I never said I wanted to return, dumbass.”
Jack threw him a bottle of water. “Your father’s lawyer called me--”
“What?” Brayden threw the bottled water with force against the canvass. “I’ve told you--”
“Not to have anything with your father’s business.” Jack raised a placating hand. “But he’s been trying to reach you. Brayden,” Jack exchanged glances with the Sheriff, “he’s willing to deny your relationship with him if it will help.”
His breath suspended in his lungs, painful and terrifying. “Why would he do that?”
“Your lawyer says he’s changed, he’s --”
“Right, right, I’ll make the arrangements.” Brayden grabbed the bottled water from the canvass and took a huge gulp. He sighed when he couldn’t stand Sheriff’s penetrating stare any longer. “What?”
“I’m out,” Jack declared, walking to the showers.
“Let’s talk about how miserable you’ve been since Ava and Max left,” Sheriff leaned against the ropes, “what happened to taking your happiness where you could find it?”
“Not if getting what I want hurt other people,” Brayden grabbed a towel from Jack and cleaned his back and neck, “I want Max to have a better life than I had.”
“And staying away will achieve that how?” The Sheriff pushed from the ropes to stand before Brayden, his dear old face puckered in worry lines. “You have an opportunity Brayden, one you never wanted, but it is there. It is here.”
He would never admit it, but the days away from Ava, even when she hurt him were his darkest. “Here what? What am I supposed to do? Sit back and watch my son hurt like my father did me?”
“You’re doing what a father should do, protecting your family, but at what cost? You’re here and they’re wherever they are, how can you be there when they need you?”
Brayden turned on him then. “You think I wanted this? I want to wake at night with the smell of Ava’s perfume, the warmth of her skin close by? I want to hear Max blabbing about nothing to no one, you think I want the silence? I had enough of that with mother. I never wanted Max but even the sound of his sucking at Ava’s breasts, crying at night, it’s music to someone who grew up with nothing for sound--”
“Then get them back, don’t be a fool. Don’t be the fool your mother was.”
Brayden shook his head. “No, no, no. Do not compare me to that woman, I’m nothing like her--”
“Like hell,” Sheriff dashed a hand across his sweaty forehead, “like hell you’re not. She knew what your father was, but she remained with him, like a martyr--”
“She didn’t know,” Brayden forced out through gritted teeth, “she had no idea--”
“Oh, she did, Brayden. No woman sleeps beside a man for years without knowing some things, not the least a woman like her--”
“A woman like her?” He laughed. “What are you talking about?”
“This is a small town, Brayden.” Sheriff pushed him to the stool in his corner of the ring. “Listen to me. Sidwell? He came from out of state. Sarah? We’ve known her for years. She was the weird kid no one wanted to be friends with, I guess sometimes the stench of a rotten apple can’t be hidden. She was fifteen when she left home, twenty when she returned, pregnant with you and Sidwell in tow. Even early on, it was obvious the man was up to no good. He slept over in jail enough times I got to know him. Guess who bailed him out every time? Sarah.”
Sheriff sighed and sat on the canvass, stretching out his legs before him. “She knew what he was, but she stayed, had you, almost had Benjamin. She played the martyr, taking out her frustration, the blame on you. Don’t do the same to Max--”
“I’m not--”
“Yes, you are. You say you want to protect Max? A baby, an innocent, whose first impression is to give you love? Brayden, you want to protect yourself and you will only end up hurting your family and yourself by staying away.”
Brayden covered his face with both hands, the Sheriff’s words landing like stones deep in his heart. “What if I’m exactly like him, what if I wake tomorrow, craving the need to kill?” he whispered.
Sheriff heaved a sigh. “You have to see it yourself. If I say you’re not, are you going to believe me? You spent your life and money and sweat on causes that--”
“For Benjamin,” Brayden said, “they were for Benjamin.”
“Where’s Benjamin?” Sheriff asked. “He’s gone, you’re here.” He hit Brayden’s chest hard. “You’re here, you did it.”
“Jesus, Bray,” Jack ran from the showers, towel slipping from his hips, “it’s Max. He’s been taken.”
Chapter thirty-one
Twenty hours. Twenty hours since they took Max from his crib. Ava moaned, swaying from side to side. She held his blanket to her nose, inhaling in his familiar smell raggedly. He could be hungry or crying or worse.
“Oh, God,” she moaned.
Gladys and Rhonda seated to her left and right, rubbed her back. The house was silent. The silence that screamed something awful was happening or had already happened. Ava’s breath caught in her lungs.
“What if he’s dead? Oh, oh.” Fresh tears streamed down her cheeks. Ava couldn’t help imagining the worst.