Under the Influence

by L. B. Simmons

  I continue swaying back and forth, willing him to open his eyes. “I just got you back. You can’t leave me. Not again. Not today. You fucking promised!”

  Reaching forward, I take his hand into mine and press my lips against his skin, relieved when I feel the faint beating of his pulse with my hold on his wrist. Slowly, I uncurl his fingers, then place his palm flat on my chest, hunching myself over his body once again. I lower my voice and begin to whisper. “Come back to me. Come back to me. Come back to me.”

  My hold on him is so strong, I lessen my grip so he can breathe. “Please, Dalton. This life you wanted to live is so close. It’s so close. I just need you to fight for it.”

  Refusal sets in and I move so I can whisper directly in his ear. “You said there is nothing you wouldn’t do for me. Well, I need you to fight. I need you to find your way back to me. Please do that for me because I need you. I cannot exist without you, remember? I. Do. Not. Exist. Without. You. In fact, I refuse to exist without you. If you go, I go. That’s the deal.”

  A few seconds pass before a loud gasp sounds from below me. Dalton’s beautiful blue eyes fly open and I immediately shout, “Kirk! Kirk!”

  Rushing footsteps sound from behind me. “The paramedics are here!”

  Before I know it, I’m ripped from Dalton’s body and placed into Kirk’s arms. I bury my head in his chest, refusing to hear anything other than his affirmations that Dalton will be okay. I refuse to accept anything else other than that. He will be okay. He has to be okay.

  Because he made me a promise.

  Because he loves me.

  Because I know there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for me.

  And as my heart begins to beat frantically in my chest, I know he’s doing just that.

  He’s going to war.

  And he will make his way back to me.

  Six months later…

  MY EYES LAND ON THE wheelchair sitting on the porch, spawning memories of the night I fought the toughest fight of my life. Fragments from Silas’s bullet were splayed all over the left, lower part of my back, nearly severing my spine. Once they were removed, I was told the closest one came within only two centimeters from causing permanent damage. They did manage, however, to create a shit-ton of swelling, which left me temporarily paralyzed from the waist down. After a couple of months and with some intense physical therapy, I was eventually able to walk again. So now the only thing the wheelchair is supporting is that of a pumpkin-headed scarecrow holding a vat full of candy as it sits and waits patiently for the kids to arrive.

  Spencer and I bought this house a little over a week ago, and she went right into party planning mode. Tonight we will be hosting the 1st Annual Ghostly Get Together, a party in which we invited all the kids from the abuse center where Spencer and I spend a lot of our time. The eyeballs floating in a clear tub of red punch were messing with my mind, so I decided to come outside and wait for Spencer. I swear they were watching me.

  An involuntary shiver creeps across my skin, but my thoughts are pulled away from their disturbing presence as I hear the familiar growl of Spencer’s Mustang just down the street. Closing the book in my lap, I wait then smile as she pulls into the drive.

  She’s so giddy, she’s practically bouncing in her seat as she eyes the scarecrow in front of her. I grin wider and shrug. I always said there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her, and that includes spending hours stuffing straw into my clothing and carving a face into a pumpkin.

  “Oh my God! I love it!” she exclaims as soon as her flip flops hit the pavement. Her long blonde hair is in a messy bun on top of her head and her shirt is a retro Joplin throwback that matches the style of her hip-hugging bell-bottom jeans. And, as usual, they drag the ground as she makes her approach.

  She’s smiling widely and her eyes are lit with excitement. After all these years, the sight of her happy still manages to rob me of my breath.

  “What are you doing out here?”

  I pat the porch. “I need a sunset.”

  She nods and takes a seat next to me, inhaling deeply. “Me too.”

  We sit in silence until she turns and tugs my hair with her fingers. “You need a haircut.”

  I reach up and drag my hand through my blond, messy hair. “Yeah, but at least the beard is gone. Fucking itchy that thing.”

  She grins. “I kind of liked it. The contacts though…” She shakes her head. “I was glad to see them go. I missed your eyes.”

  I pull her into me and press my lips against her temple.

  “Cassie and Grady will be here around eight.” Her giggles fill the air. “I can’t believe they’ve moved in together.”

  I chuckle. “I can. They’re a perfect fit. My gut feelings never steer me wrong.”

  She sighs. “Yeah. Speaking of lovebirds, Mom called earlier. She and Kirk will be over around that time with the kids too. I can’t believe they’re getting married next month.”

  I grin at the mention of Lawson’s name. Kirk Lawson did, in fact, find some very useful information on Silas’s suppliers when he raided the abandoned warehouse. After stripping it clean, he obtained some names from a stash of papers hidden in Silas’s office, then handed the info over to the DEA. After that, his investigation into Silas’s activities was officially closed. Obviously.

  We still work together though. Not undercover, but I’m working my way up to Detective under his guidance and mentorship. He’s become a very important staple in my life, and I owe him so much more than I will ever be able to repay. I made several attempts to do just that by trying to explain to Spencer’s mom that Lawson had the best of intentions in mind when he withheld information from her regarding Spencer’s safety. I’m pretty sure he slept on the couch for a month straight, but eventually, she forgave him. She’s a smart woman, and she’d be a fool not to see how much Kirk Lawson loves her daughter. But that doesn’t mean she didn’t give him hell just to prove a point.

  And as I glance at the blonde-haired beauty sitting next to me, I know exactly where she gets her stubborn streak.

  Spencer gasps from beside me, breaking me from my thoughts. “I totally forgot to tell you! Mom received a letter today from Penny! They’re doing really well. They only live a couple of hours from here, so we should go visit them sometime. I know she would love to see you. She told mom that Lawson checks in with them every now and then and that she heard about the accident.”

  My heart aches as I watch the sides of her mouth curve downward. I know she continues to blame herself for dropping the gun that night, no matter how hard I try to convince her otherwise.

  She stares off into the distance briefly, then her grin reappears as she meets my eyes. “She told Mom to tell you that she always knew you were a hero.”

  I chuckle and shake my head, draping my arm over her shoulder and pulling her into my body. Her scent fills my nose and I breathe it in deeply before whispering in her ear, “She also said that you would save me. So that kind of makes you a hero too.”

  I pull away to look into her sky blue eyes. “Because you did save me, in so many ways. From a life I wanted no part of, from becoming a person I loathed, from living a life completely void of emotion. You saved me from all of that. And now here I am, sitting on the porch of a house I love, with the girl I love, in a life that I absolutely love. You saved me, Spence. Never forget that.”

  Her smile widens and the bridge of her nose begins to crease. I laugh and brush my mouth against hers, unable to do anything other than that when she makes that expression. She sighs, then nestles her head in the crook of my neck. Her hand touches the book in my lap as she asks, “What is this?”

  I smile. “A book.”

  She huffs. “I know that, doofus.”

  I glance down and trace the worn cover with the tips of my fingers. “Dante. I read it from time to time.”

  She giggles and my heart ignites with the sound. “I can tell.”

  My arm pulls her closer as we fall into silence with the setting sun.
And at this moment, as she sits next to me on the porch and we watch it set in silence, I’m drawn deeply into my memories.

  The crackling sounds of gravel catch my attention, but I don’t look up. I just want whoever it is to go away. As I’m transported to yet another home, I find comfort in the fact that at least this time around I’ll be able to protect myself, even if it is emergency foster care.

  My entire body still aches with the effects of my fight with Bill. The one I provoked in order to make a statement, to let him know he no longer had the upper hand. The same one that got me kicked out of his miserable house.

  But I still hurt. Inside and out. I’m so tired. I just want to be left alone.

  “Hi.”

  As soon as the word hits my ears, a feeling that I’ve never felt before begins to warm my chest and the ache that’s always there begins to disappear. I breathe in deeply, but keep my focus on the ground below me.

  “My name’s Spencer. What’s yours?”

  My body freezes with her voice. The same voice of the person that I have dreamed about so many times over the years. I keep my eyes on the dirt because I don’t want to look up. I’ve seen this angel so many times when sleeping, I’m scared it won’t be her. But eventually, my gaze rises and I finally catch sight of her glowing presence.

  I narrow my stare, surprised at how much she resembles the girl in my dreams. My angel as the sun shines behind her, her light blonde hair blowing almost in slow motion as her sky blue eyes lock onto mine. I look her over, and as my heart begins to pound with hope, I squash it and state in a cruel voice, “Spencer? That’s a boy’s name.”

  I refuse to believe it’s her. And the only way to keep that stupid hope, that ridiculous need to hold on to something that will only lead to disappointment yet again, is to make her go away.

  But she doesn’t go anywhere. She just nods and says, “Yeah, not the first time I’ve heard that one.”

  Frustrated, I focus my irritated gaze on her. But as I continue to watch her lack of reaction to my anger, I find myself wanting to reach out and hug her. To hold her in order to know that she’s real. Which is stupid and weak.

  I look back down at the ground, hoping she’ll just go away and leave me alone. But she doesn’t. She just sits next to me and I find myself fascinated by her stubbornness.

  It reminds me of me.

  I don’t say anything though, and neither does she. I’m strangely comforted as we sit side-by-side in silence. We watch together until the sun is gone, and as we do, I gear myself up for another set of foster parents, silently hoping she will be close by.

  The thought of being able to see her whenever I want makes me smile. My first real smile in as long as I can remember.

  “So … Spencer, was it?” The sound of her name coming out of my mouth feels so natural. Surprised with the ease. I say it again, along with the only way I know how to tell someone that I like them.

  “Well, Spencer. Wanna get high?”

  I find myself back in the present as the sun lowers, finally disappearing in front of my eyes. And with Dante residing in my lap with his tales of Hell, Purgatory, and Heaven, I can’t think of anything else other than the angel sitting next to me.

  I draw her in closer and breathe her straight into my lungs.

  Every last bit of her.

  Her strength. Her love. Her ferocity.

  All of the elements which constitute the only person capable of delivering me from the depths of my own personal Hell.

  She thinks I saved her, but she truly has no idea how much she saved me. I grin as I hold her tight against my chest because when I asked her if she wanted to get high, I had absolutely no idea how high she would actually carry me.

  In her arms alone, I found the true meaning of Heaven. Heaven on earth as I’m granted the experience of sitting here on this porch as I watch the shifting colors of the horizon with her by my side.

  I live and breathe because of her, and I will continue to do so making sure that each day, she understands the depths of my love for her.

  Nothing else matters. In fact, nothing else ever mattered until the day I met her.

  I was captivated by her eagerness.

  Influenced by her willingness to love.

  And under that influence, I fell helplessly for the gift she so willingly offered. The gift of giving and receiving such an uncompromising love.

  A love that buries itself in your soul as it solidifies your being completely, wholly, with another person.

  A love that forever binds, whether it be in life or death.

  And in that love I find comfort.

  I find strength.

  I find existence.

  I find her.

  And she’s all I need.

  Forever and always.

  My air.

  My Angel.

  My Spencer.

  The subjects covered in this book were not easy ones to tackle. Domestic violence is far more prevalent we know, most likely because so many victims feel trapped and don’t speak out. If you or someone you know is a victim of domestic abuse, please call the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-7233 and speak to an advocate. You are not alone.

  And for those of you interested in helping a child in foster care, you can do so by becoming a Court Appointed Special Advocate (CASA). As taken directly from the CASA For Children’s website, “CASA volunteers are appointed by judges to watch over and advocate for abused and neglected children, to make sure they don’t get lost in the overburdened legal and social service system or languish in inappropriate group or foster homes. Volunteers stay with each case until it is closed and the child is placed in a safe, permanent home. For many abused children, their CASA volunteer will be the one constant adult presence in their lives.” You can make a difference. If you would like to learn more, visit the CASA For Children’s webpage.

  http://www.casaforchildren.org/site/c.mtJSJ7MPIsE/b.5301309/k.9D58/Volunteering.htm

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS FOR ME are always bittersweet. They mark the end of my writing journey, but are also a powerful reminder of the support given to me along the way. Without the tremendous positivity and encouragement given along the way, this book would not have come to completion. I am so truly blessed to have these people along with me for the crazy ride. People that have been with me from the very beginning and people I love with all of my heart. My supporters. My readers. My teachers. My friends. Each one of you has impacted my life in ways you will never be able to understand. I love you all.

  My hubby. You are an amazing man, with the patience of a saint. Not only because you give me the time I need to continue living my dream, but because you do so without me having to ask. You sacrifice so much so that I can sit at a computer for hours on end, taking care of our girls while I’m merely feet away lost in another world. I love you so much for supporting me wholeheartedly, and your belief in my writing never fails to astound me.

  My babies. I love you girls so much! I do this for you, to show you that you can do anything when you put your mind to it. I wanted to write a book, so I did. Now I’ve written five. Find what you love, your passion, what drives you…and do it. Because I know you can.

  Jena Eilers. Good Lord. I would not have finished this book without you by my side. It was hard but you stood by me, encouraged me, and supplied me with endless amounts of Diet Mountain Dew, all because you believe so strongly in my stories. Your friendship continues to amaze me on a daily basis.

  Luna Sol. I love you so much. It’s funny how I can say that when you’re clear across the world, when we’ve never even met, but it’s true. Your unwavering support, your passion for reading, and your love for the characters within those books is what I admire so much about you. You have this uncanny ability to see inside my head when we discuss my books. You just get it, and then you translate it beautifully. And you make me giggle. A lot. I will never be able to truly express how much your friendship means to me.

  Hang Le. Woman. This cover stole my
breath, and when I saw it for the first time, I knew you understood what I was trying to say. I could not have asked for a better representation of Dalton and Spencer’s story than the beautiful image preceding their pages. It’s breathtaking. It’s emotional. It’s perfect. You amaze me.

  Jennifer Roberts-Hall. Five books later and you still put up with me. Thank you so much for everything you do. You’re not only an amazing editor, but you’re my mentor, my positivity, my rant-listener (totally not a word), but most importantly, you’re my friend. Love you huge.

  Kassi Cooper. Formatter extradonaire. Thank you so much for bringing my pages to life. You have an immense talent for making my words unique, seen by the reader in various ways. Whether it’s a chapter title, or a letter or email, you help me bring it all together to create a total experience for the reader. And I couldn’t do it without you. Thank you.

  Lisa Paul. It’s been a rough year, but your constant sticker messages and voice messages kept me laughing…out loud. You never gave up on me. And that’s the definition of true friendship right there. Thank you for being my friend. You are truly a gift in my life.

  Nicole Jacquelyn. Another dear friend who I will be forever grateful entered my life because of this crazy world of self-publishing. You are real. You are genuine. And I love you for it. You never hesitate to help me mold the idea of my stories, to steer me in the right direction, and to offer advice when needed. But moreover, you are an amazing friend. Peas and carrots.

  For all the beautiful ladies of L.B. Simmons Books. I LOVE YOU ALLLLLLL! I know I tell you this often, but you really have no idea how your support and excitement gave me the drive to finish this book. Thank you so much for believing in me as much as you do. Thank you for the constant laughter in the group. And thank you for being absolutely incredible individuals. I am blessed to know each and every one of you.

  To the many bloggers, who spend hours on end reading and reviewing the plethora of books out there, thank you for taking the time to read mine. Without your help and support, no one would read my stories. Plain and simple. And I feel you don’t get thanked enough for that. So, thank you from the bottom of my heart.