Fighting Fate (Endgame #4)

by Leigh Ann Lunsford

  “How’d you get Deacon to agree to leaving the house with Julie?” Lee Lee jokes.

  “Uh, the portable crib is being brought. Formula and clean bottles in the kitchen of the hall. Bottled water, three changes of clothes, a box of diapers, pack of wipes and Sara on speed dial.” I smirk. “And I may have drugged him.” Joking . . . but the thought crossed my mind. He takes OCD to a new level where his daughter is concerned.

  “Are you bummed we aren’t going to our actual prom?” She asks, shame sneaking into her voice.

  I shrug. “We’re human. I think it’s okay to feel some disappointment. Doesn’t mean I’d do anything different.” She nods. “You wanted Adriane with you?” I admit it hurts . . . wondering why we can’t mean as much to her as that bitch.

  “Yes.” Her eyes drop to her lap. I want to tell her it’s okay, but we don’t lie to each other. “I’m trying to talk her into staying.”

  Tough love lesson in three . . . two . . . “You can’t force her to stay. Who is she going to prom with?”

  “Ryan.” Her gaze diverts to the window.

  “And she knows what we’re doing.” It isn’t a question. “She knows where her daughter is day in and day out. She knows she isn’t doing shit to raise her. She has no bond with her. So, why, Emberlee, are you trying to force something she doesn’t have to give?” My voice is rising in volume and I need to tamp it down.

  “I know all this, Avery.” She bites back.

  “Yet, you don’t absorb it.” I volley back.

  “Drop it.” She seethes.

  “Good fucking idea.” I inhale. Count to five. Exhale. Repeat three times.

  “I wouldn’t be anywhere else, either.” Her tone is low but filled with emotion.

  “I know.” I grab her hand. After that, we both relax and get pedicures. And she tries to pry details from me regarding the theme . . . but I’ve zipped it and tossed the key.

  Dropping her off, I tease. “Your chariot will be here at seven. Be ready.”

  “Roses are red. Violets are blue. I have five fingers. This middle one is for you.” I snort at her retort and sigh in relief that we have the friendship we do. Our previous tiff forgotten.

  I sigh in amazement as I smooth the dress. Swishing in front of my mirror, I’m in a trance. A throat clearing grabs my attention and my dad is standing in my doorway, half grin – half grimace maiming his face. “Beautiful.” He shakes his head. “Avery, you sure you want to go away to college?”

  This again. Same conversation. Different parent. “You mean the entire twenty minutes away. I hope I’ll be able to make it home for the holidays. How many layovers do you think I’ll have?”

  “You’re your mother’s child.” His comment is swift. And overused.

  “Yes. Until I’m behaved. Then you take the credit.” I wink.

  “As it should be. You use your brain when you’re behaved. Got that from me.” I roll my eyes.

  “Whatever you say.” He holds his hand toward me and there’s a single yellow rose. “Thanks, Daddy.”

  “It isn’t from me. It was on the front porch when I opened it. Don’t know who it’s from.” He grumbles. “I’m gonna warn the guys you have strangers dropping stuff off for you and we’re going back to the shooting range so you aren’t rusty.”

  Over a rose.

  Over the top.

  I play along, although I know the culprit who left it. “Okay. Wanna order a bulletproof vest? Hire full time bodyguards? An armored tank?”

  “Such a smart ass. Definitely got those genes from your mother’s side. And why aren’t you worried?”

  Heat stains my cheeks as my dad scrutinizes me. “Because I know who it’s from.”

  “Who?”

  “Nope. Not happening. Nice try, Pops. A girl has to have some secrets.” I wink at him.

  “I don’t like this, young lady. Would I approve?” I smirk.

  “Would you approve me dating the Pope?” He’ll never approve of anyone.

  “No. We aren’t Catholic.” He’s such a funny man.

  “Jesus?” I raise my eyebrows.

  “The age difference is a bit troublesome. Try again.” He’s biting his lip, holding his laughter back.

  “You’re impossible. Let’s go. Escort your favorite daughter to her carriage.” I place my hands in prayer stance.

  “You’re my only daughter.”

  “Ergo— the favorite. You’re losing it in your old age.” He pinches my arm and mutters under his breath. “Love you, Daddy.”

  “Yeah. Yeah. You, too, beautiful.”

  The giddiness inside is tickling my stomach. The faces of my friends when an actual chariot picked us up was classic. Of course, we can’t take it to the venue and Deacon wouldn’t allow Julie to ride, but a few spins through our neighborhood is sufficient. We don’t live next door, not even on the same street as one another, but we all live behind the elusive gates.

  “Holy hell, woman.” Mason is whooping, causing us to sway a bit.

  “Calm down, caveman.” Emberlee smacks him. Our ride comes to an end and as we climb off, flashes galore blind us. Nobody has bitched one time over their costumes so I call this a win.

  We pose for pictures and after we get Julie buckled and safe in the SUV Mason’s parents, Jason and Michelle, rented, I direct them to our prom.

  “Love this.” Emberlee hugs me tight. And she should. As Princess Rapunzel from Tangled she looks stunning in the purple dress. The corset type top highlights how small she is and the color sets off her complexion and gorgeous eyes. I couldn’t have picked a better character for her . . . she’s locked inside her own tower— one of her own making, hiding her pain and disappointments.

  Her date, Prince Fitzherbert, or better known as Caden, is handsome. The blue vest sets off the tan of his skin and his honey eyes sparkle. He can rock the tan pants and brown boots. I’ve had to wipe drool a few times.

  Princess Merida is who I mirrored myself after. Our hair, besides the color, is pretty much the same. A mess of tangled curls that hang long. The blue of my dress compliments my pale skin and the gold makes my hair contrast and I love the belt. I should have switched dates with Emberlee because this outfit I’m sporting seems to mesh with Caden’s.

  Julie . . . her rosebud lips, pale baby skin, long lashes . . . all her own beauty overtake the stunning Cinderella dress I found for her. She isn’t loving the headpiece, her hands keep searching for the irritating item until Mason takes it off and chucks it to the floor.

  “Nice.” I admonish him.

  “She doesn’t like it.” He gloats and grumps. I’m aware . . . Captain fucking Obvious.

  The two Prince Charming’s. Any living, breathing, girl, and some men would swoon. The contrast between them is breathtaking. Deacon’s dark to Mason’s light. Not just hair color but personalities. Deacon hasn’t always been broody but he’s had a lot piled upon his shoulders. I bite my lip from laughing at the red pants I made Mason wear . . . they’re rather bright, in an eyesore, stare at me way. But the beige jacket with gold embellishes fit him like a glove. At eighteen, they’re for sure beautiful men. All three my heroes in his own way.

  “Wow.” Deacon gasps as we enter the room. “Aves.” He pulls me close and goose bumps arise as his lips brush my temple.

  “Anything for you.” I hug him close and turn so we can explore. “Follow me.” I lead them to the first area that fits with our fairytale theme.

  For Brave, I have lush greens, standing stones shaped from Styrofoam and painted to show age, vast expanse of blue to symbolize the water . . . all very Scotland like. I opted for Princess Merida because Deacon isn’t my prince . . . he’s Julie’s so I allowed him to wear a plain tuxedo for the evening— enhanced with the light blue of Julie’s gown woven in his tie and vest.

  I sweep them over to Tangled— fictional because Corona isn’t a real place. I painted a castle with a high window, a silhouette standing there with her flowing hair. I amazed myself with how dimensional I mad
e it and with shockingly bright colors. I stacked plaster and was able to make it life like.

  The best for last. I chose the happiest part for me. The steps with a huge clock highlighting the time she fled, leaving a clue for her soul mate. I have Deacon and Mason staged on the steps, then place Julie between them in her decorated stroller and grab the camera my mom left for me and start clicking.

  “You did good, Aves.” Caden’s low voice comes from behind.

  “Thanks.” I allow his compliment to penetrate. I take a few more candid shots and clap my hands. Once we’re all close, I remind them why we’re here. “From birth we’ve been together. We’ve learned to ride bikes as a group, we started Kindergarten as one. We’ve had all of our firsts together. This is our last prom. We have a cherished life, no matter the obstacles, we can conquer them together.”

  “One for all.” Emberlee starts the cheer.

  “All for one.” Mason finishes it.

  Many would think with five friends and a baby we’d be bored . . . but you’d be wrong. We have music . . . we dance. Sometimes obscene, sometimes all together, sometimes alone or in pairs. We have laughter. So much my sides hurt. One thing all of our peers at our high school prom don’t have, but we do . . . is each other.

  We have each other.

  “Promise me,” I manage through my laughter. “Don’t ever do the running man. In public. Ever again.” Mason’s look of astonishment is typical . . . that boy can do any other move, but the running man . . . not so much. “Promise.” I try to become stern.

  “Suck it, Aves.” He pulls me further to the floor and I grab Emberlee as I pass. All three of our guys surround us and begin . . . tormenting us with the running man. The horrors.

  A few minutes past eleven we decided to call it a night. It’s early but Julie is our primary concern. Besides, I’m sure those three are chomping at the bit to hit the after parties. Deacon will pass out next to his daughter and I’ll paint for a bit, or maybe just curl in bed with a movie.

  “You coming with?” Mason taunts as he pretty much dry humps Emberlee.

  “Pass.” I wrinkle my nose. “Have fun with that.” I tease Caden. “You may need bleach for your eyes.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” He shrugs. Moody bastard. I’d have him pee in a cup to test for drugs if it wasn’t already mandatory for baseball.

  “Game tomorrow.” Deacon reminds us. “Chill with drinking. And fucking.” He adds dryly.

  We load into the rented vehicle and are dropped at our houses. I’m exhausted but it was all worth it. Foregoing my art room and movie, I run a hot bath and soak until I’m a prune.

  Pulling my hair down from the clip, I secure my towel over my breasts and open the bathroom door. To him. In my bed. Wearing a smirk. And pants. Nothing else. I swallow my tongue and every bit of saliva in my mouth. “W-wh-wh-what are you doing here?”

  “Missed you.” I roll my eyes.

  “You couldn’t convey that fully clothed?” I’d function on all cylinders if I didn’t have to stare at his defined, fine as hell, chest.

  “Picasso— that bath was so hot there was steam coming under the door. Your skin’s all red.” No worries— my skin is overheated because this close in proximity to him— remember shirtless— I’m ready to combust. “But don’t mind me . . . I’m loving this view.” Shit. I’m in a towel. In front of an Adonis. No pressure.

  Rushing to my dresser, but not too fast because I don’t want to be a Janet Jackson with a nip slip, I throw open my top drawer to grab undergarments. My fingers wrap around the first pair as his body presses into mine scalding me with heat, pressure, and his voice. “Pink, Picasso? I think I’d love to see you in blue . . . again.” He pulls out my blue thongs and my knees buckle. His arms circle my waist and his head dips to my ear. “Or nothing at all.” His teeth nip my lobe.

  “Holy fuck.” I pant.

  I’m picked up cradle style . . . which shifts my towel and shows my goodies. He doesn’t seem to mind because the growl he emits vibrates my chest.

  And that’s how it happened. Three weeks before I graduated high school, I gave him my virginity. He was sweet. Hesitant. Gentle. It was a night I’ll never forget and I pull from that memory when things get rocky.

  But it complicated so much. My heart, already invested, is now his.

  As is my pussy— his words. And his constant access to it reminds me.

  Chapter Six

  College – First Year

  Score! Our parents finagled us houses . . . three . . . same street . . . next door. Deacon and Julie start the trek, middle one is Caden and Mason, last is Lee Lee and mine. Also, a new girl. Her step-dad purchased it with our parents and she’s due to arrive sometime today.

  I’m putting up some bathroom stuff after an epic fight with Emberlee. I suggested we give the master to our new roommate— Emberlee and I have shared stuff our entire life so it made sense. After an hour of intense debate, she relented. But she’s in a mood. She hasn’t been the same since Adriane hauled ass after graduation.

  “Emberlee,” her tone is unwelcome as she introduces herself. Oh shit. This is gonna be fun. “Avery, the new chick is here.” I scurry down the hall and skid to a stop. This girl is fucking stunning with the sweetest smile. And kindest eyes. And a skittish demeanor.

  “Hi. You’re Saylor?” Thank fuck her name clicked in my head. It was all such a rush at the last minute. She’s got long blonde hair and is fun sized like Emberlee.

  “Yes.” She extends her hand for me to shake. I trill in laughter pulling her for a hug.

  “Honey, we’re Midwesterners, no hand shaking here. Maybe some ass grabbing and definitely lots of hugging.” She’s pulling from me, body stiff and I’m suppressing my amusement.

  “Okay.” Her voice timid and eyes darting to Emberlee’s scowl.

  “Ignore Lee Lee. She can be a bit snooty.” Her face scrunches and I’ve lost her.

  “Emberlee. I call her Lee Lee. Everyone does. Her bark is worse than her bite. I’ll show you your room and we can chat.” I’m trying to ease the discomfort radiating from her.

  “I have to unpack my car.” She stands still, rooted to the floor. I’ll teach her how it’s done here.

  “No you don’t. The boys will be back from the store in a few. They can grab it.” They are good for something. I shoot her a wink and search for Emberlee because this girl is on the verge of fainting.

  “Boys? I thought it was us three.” She’s freaking. Those that aren’t in our crew still know of us . . . but Saylor isn’t from here. She’s flying blind.

  “Mason and Caden live next door. Deacon the other side them.” I’m explaining but don’t know how to forge the words.

  “Ummm. O—kay.” She’s in agreement with my lack of explaining.

  “Come on. We gave you the master because Lee Lee and I are used to sharing stuff. We’ll take the two single rooms so we don’t bombard you with our bathroom mess.” I’m yammering as I lead her to the master suite. “Emberlee, get in here and be pleasant.” I shoot Saylor an exasperated look, trying to ease her mood. “That is something she rarely is.”

  Emberlee saunters in, still in a mood. It’s been persistent for the eleven weeks since Adriane pulled her disappearing act. For a few days she’ll be normal, but after a phone call with she-devil, she becomes Bitchy McBitcherson. Saylor freezes and I want to smack Emberlee. The object of my ire flips me off and sits in Saylor’s desk chair. I roll my eyes and give her back the middle finger. “So tell us about you, Saylor.” I coax information, trying to be subtle and it seems to draw Lee Lee from her funk.

  “Like what?” Lord, this girl. I kinda like her but she’s difficult.

  “Where are you from? What is your major? Why Kansas?” It’s like a damn inquisition but she isn’t very forthcoming.

  “New Mexico and Florida. Marketing Degree. I was accepted.” Wow. Very helpful. She doesn’t over share at all. I’m wondering if she needs liquid courage.

  “Wow, you’re a
tough nut to crack. Do you have any friends?” I quip, trying to lighten the mood.

  “Not really.” And cue my moment to feel like shit. Class-A dipshit— seating for one.

  “What? I was teasing.” I’m tripping over my mistake.

  “I didn’t socialize a lot in school. We moved to Florida five years ago; everyone had a group, and I was the new girl.” She shrugs— playing it off but I can see how uncomfortable I’ve made her.

  “Oh, you’ll socialize. We’ll make sure of it.” Emberlee joins me in trying to welcome her.

  She stands, ready to escape. “I’m going to get my stuff.”

  “Stop! I told you it would be handled.” I’m blocking the door.

  Emberlee speaks up, helping me. “Yep. Let those assholes do something.”

  “Our hometown is Eastborough, about twenty minutes from here. The guys I mentioned— we grew up together. It used to be a crew of six, now it’s just us five . . .” I peer at Lee Lee to see her flinch as the front door flies open and loud mouths start chattering.

  “Lee Lee! Avery!” I roll my eyes at their barbaric shouting. Nodding my head for Saylor to follow, we make our way to our boys. Emberlee jumps into Caden’s arms as I climb Mason. In a few seconds, they’ll switch us . . . just a normal day.

  “We’ve been gone an hour. What are y’all gonna do when we have classes all day?” Deacon teases us with the affection we show. I’m in Caden’s hold as Deacon takes in new girl . . . and he comes close to lighting us on fire with the sparks. I smirk and introduce them.

  “This is Saylor. Saylor Lewis, this is Deacon Douglas.” My work here is done and I’m fighting giggles as Saylor fights to form words. Yeah, Deacon will do that to you. He takes the liberty of introducing Saylor to the rest of the crew as Emberlee snares Deacon in an embrace.

  “Where’s Julie?” I know she is warning new girl, but that isn’t our business. She continues giving off bitch vibes as Saylor follows them to unload her stuff. After it’s unloaded she disappears. And before I can bitch slap Emberlee she’s vanished as well. I’ll handle this shit but we do have a party to prep for tonight.