by R. K. Lilley
I spent a week in pure hell, torturing myself with regrets, dosing myself liberally with any drug at hand.
Seven days after I saw Danika in the hospital, I checked myself into rehab.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
DANIKA
They gave me details. So many pointless details about loss of cartilage and muscle tissue. Painful details about irreparable damage to my uterus. Endless details about surgery and physical therapy. The gist of it was: I was now a cripple, and I could never have children. My response to that reality; I will not let this define me. So help me God, I won’t even let it slow me down. I wasn’t a dancer anymore, and I would never get to grow a child inside of me. Those were facts. I refused to cry about it, or if I did, to even so much as acknowledge those fucking useless tears. I would find something else to define me. I just had to figure out what.
Bev took time off work to take care of me. I was shocked, as I’d never known her to take more than a week of vacation from work before. But she took nearly a full month off for me.
She helped me around the house, kept me company, kept me sane.
“Why are you so good to me?” I asked her at one point. “Why have you always been so good to me? I’m such a burden to you, and you’ve done so much to help me. We both know I can never repay all of your kindness.”
Bev gave me the saddest smile, and one of her soft hands moved, as though in slow motion, to stroke over my hair. “Oh, you poor girl. Don’t you know?”
I blinked at her and shook my head, completely lost. “Know what?” I asked her.
“You were never a burden, Danika, and this isn’t kindness.”
I shook my head at her again, my brow furrowing in confusion. “If it’s not kindness, then what is it?”
Her eyes filled with tears, and the look on her face made my heart turn slowly in my chest. “My dear, this is what’s called family.”
I was completely undone by that. I began to sob, the sounds loud and harsh and broken. She just embraced me, murmuring soothing words into my ear, her soft voice filled with tears.
Family, I thought, absolutely floored by the thought. Family, I realized, my mind flashing back through the years of Bev and Jerry’s unfaltering generosity, their unfailing kindness. Family.
The thing I had yearned for had been mine without me ever having to ask. It was just there, through better or worse.
Family.
EPILOGUE
DANIKA
A few months after the accident, I got a call from my sister.
She was in labor.
I drove for five hours and made it to her just in time for the delivery.
We’d been talking on the phone and corresponding via email. I’d even gone out to see her a few times, before my first miscarriage.
But that birth is what made us sisters again.
It was a bittersweet joy to share that special moment with her.
I was the only family present, the only one there for her.
She named him Jack Markova, and I was one of the first to ever hold him. I cut his umbilical cord and fell in love with that darling boy.
I drove her home from the hospital, and helped her settle in with the new baby. I stayed with her for two weeks, staying up with the baby, letting her get some much needed rest while she recovered from her ordeal. I limped around her house and tried to help make it a home for that fatherless little boy.
I was tucking her in one night, the baby asleep in a bassinet beside her bed, when she looked at me and said, “I do know who the father is.”
I sat down at her hip, and she found my hand with her own. I stared at her face and waited.
I knew it was going to be something truly awful. Just knew it. The nature of that awful, however, eluded me. My head was in a dark place, and so the possibilities were endless.
The thing I feared the most, though, was not the worst thing that could have happened to her. I knew this because, the worst thing had happened.
She squeezed my hand tight and closed her eyes tighter. “I had no boyfriend. No lover. I didn’t know what had happened to me, until I realized I was pregnant. But I did remember a few nights that were…out of my recollection. And after those nights, I did know that something was off, things were askew. I woke up in ways and places that didn’t add up.”
“Oh no, Dahlia,” I whispered, stroking her cheek.
“It took me a while to piece it together, but…I had a few nights that made no sense, and as I began to uncover the facts, I realized that Dean had drugged me. A few times. I confronted him, and he wouldn’t admit it aloud, but I saw his guilt. And then, when I told him I was pregnant, it didn’t even faze him, and he straight up told me that he was the father.
“I hated him. Before any of that even happened, I couldn’t stand him. I didn’t have the stomach to get rid of the baby, or even to give it away, but I got the hell away from him. No way was I going to let him be in this baby’s life. He was a rapist and a lowlife. I wanted to press charges, but I didn’t see what good it would do. I was so stupid. By the time I realized what had happened to me, all of the evidence was gone.”
“You poor dear,” I told her, kissing her forehead, aching for her. “I’m so sorry you got mixed up in that.”
Her hand moved from her side to rest on Jack’s little head in the bassinet beside the bed. “I’ve made peace with it. I love this baby, Danika, with my whole heart I love him. The rest is in the past.”
I had so much bitter poison inside of me, so many regrets, and it didn’t slip my notice that Dean’s ugly proclivities had produced a beautiful baby boy, while my and Tristan’s love had only ever ended in tragedy.
Life was so very cruel, but there could be no doubt that I loved that baby.
We doted on him, my perfect little nephew.
SIX MONTHS LATER
I didn’t look at his face, but listened to his words, hearing more what he didn’t say, than what he did.
We were sitting in the small café where I’d agreed to meet him. He was here with two other people, a young man and woman. I’d told him I hadn’t wanted to meet him alone, and that had been his solution. I hadn’t wanted to do this, but when he’d explained the purpose of it, as part of his rehab program, I hadn’t been able to refuse.
We wouldn’t be a part of each other’s lives again, but that didn’t mean that I was willing to cripple his recovery.
I’d wanted to show up first, so he wouldn’t see how I was still struggling to get around. That instinct was part pity, part pride on my part. I wasn’t sure which was stronger.
I’d dressed painstakingly, my hair loose and straight and shiny, my makeup heavy but flattering, my skirt long, to hide my knee brace and my orthopedic shoes, my shirt tight to show off my figure.
I couldn’t delude myself for long. Pride was stronger.
Unfortunately, I hadn’t shown up early enough. Tristan and his two shiny new friends had already been at a table, drinking coffee and laughing at something when I walked in the door.
I was ridiculously grateful to the man that held the door open for me so I could hobble through. It was amazing how the little things could help, and struggling with the door while Tristan watched was a humiliation that I did not care to contemplate just yet.
My chest burned as I made my way, one small crutch assisted step at a time, to an empty table near the entrance. I wanted to sit before he saw me, but I wasn’t so lucky.
One look at his face and I knew I wouldn’t be meeting his gaze for this little meeting. The raw regret, the crippling pity in his eyes was nothing that I cared to see. I’d prefer anything from him before I’d take his pity.
I couldn’t look at his face, so instead stared at his collarbone. I couldn’t face his eyes, the promises we’d made and broken, the things we’d lost. They were all there, accusing me, yet filled with guilt, filled with pity, all at once.
“Can I get you anything? Coffee or tea?”
A shudder ran through me. His fi
rst words to me were to offer to wait on me, because I was a cripple now? I couldn’t bear it. I almost bolted right then.
“Some tea, thank you,” I said through stiff lips, finally, after I’d debated in my head which would be more humiliating.
I didn’t so much as twitch while he went to the counter and got us both a cup of tea.
I stared down at mine, added one sugar, then stared some more.
“Milk?” he offered.
I shook my head, then added another packet of sugar.
I never took even one sip before he said his piece. I never touched that tea.
“I have many regrets, many bad things I must take credit for, but believe me when I say that the negative impact that all of my actions have had on your life is my biggest one.”
He stayed firmly on his side of the table, his eyes on his hands, and in their downcast depths, I saw his sincerity, but I hadn’t really been questioning it.
I quickly looked away.
Of course he was sorry.
So was I.
Neither of us had wanted things to turn out this way. But as I looked at him, whole and healthy, and when I’d seen him laughing, before he’d spotted me, happy. Perhaps things really had turned out for the best for him, in spite of this all. He’d been a mess of a man when he was with me, and look at him now, thriving.
It planted one tiny seed of bitterness inside of me, and over time, that bitter seed would grow. It would flourish.
“I do not deserve your forgiveness, after all that’s happened, but I am asking for it.” His words were stilted, as though he’d rehearsed them. “Know that I would take it all back if I could, and know that I hold myself responsible for all of the bad things that happened. I am so sorry that my hitting rock bottom the way I did impacted you. Any recompense you can imagine, anything you would ask of me, I would be happy to provide. I’m at your service. Always, Danika. And it is my most sincere wish that someday, perhaps over time, you might consider being my friend again.”
Friend? I recoiled from the notion. Of course I couldn’t be that. What a drawn out torture that would be. Friends? It felt like a slap in the face. Didn’t he know that if we tried that, if we stayed close in that platonic way, I’d never be able to move on?
“Tristan.” Just saying his name was a struggle. How on earth would I get through the rest? I took a few long, necessary moments to steady my voice. My words were very formal when I was able to continue. “Consider yourself forgiven. But please don’t think that I hold you responsible for everything that happened. Things didn’t turn out how I could have hoped.” What a joke of an understatement. “But no one person is to blame for any of it. So yes, I forgive you for any and all of it. That being said, I must decline your offer of friendship. Some things…What I mean is, some people, need to stay away from each other, and we are such a pair.” I wanted to say so much more, but chose to keep my composure instead.
His ragged breaths were his only response for the longest time. “If that is how you feel, I must respect your decision.” He seemed to me to nearly choke on the words.
“It is. But thank you for the apology, and I wish you all the best.” I swallowed hard, looking down. “I’m glad you got yourself help.”
After an eternal agony of waiting, he stood up and walked away.
We didn’t look directly at each other.
I refused to stand up before he and his friends left, and so I stared at my tea for a long time while I waited.
I never took one sip of that tea.
It had been torture. But every coffin needed its last nail, and that meeting was ours.
Heart in tatters, but will intact, I went on with my life.
BOOKS BY R.K. LILLEY
IN FLIGHT (UP IN THE AIR #1)
MILE HIGH (UP IN THE AIR #2)
GROUNDED (UP IN THE AIR #3)
LANA (AN UP IN THE AIR NOVELLA)
BREATHING FIRE (HERETIC DAUGHTERS #1)
BAD THINGS (TRISTAN & DANIKA #1)
ROCK BOTTOM (TRISTAN & DANIKA #2)
AND COMING SOON…
LOVELY TRIGGER (TRISTAN & DANIKA #3)
CROSSING FIRE (HERETIC DAUGHTERS #2)
MR. BEAUTIFUL (UP IN THE AIR #4)
THE OTHER MAN (A NOVEL)
HERE IS A SCENE FROM LOVELY TRIGGER (TRISTAN & DANIKA #3)
WARNING: BOOK THREE CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE UP IN THE AIR TRILOGY
ROUGHLY SIX YEARS LATER
AT THE WEDDING RECEPTION OF JAMES AND BIANCA CAVENDISH
DANIKA
“That motherfucker is even bigger than you,” shot out of my mouth as Tristan took his seat beside me at the long table assigned to the wedding party.
He gave me one quick look, and then looked at Akira, but that look told me plenty of things that I’d rather not have known. For starters, my statement came out sassier than I’d intended, and Tristan still loved my sassy. In fact, he ate it up. His gaze had been hot, and…something else that I didn’t want to name.
“Don’t get any ideas,” he said idly, taking a sip of water. “That giant bastard is taken.”
My eyes narrowed on him. “I know that. He’s married to a supermodel. I was just saying…it must be weird for you, usually the biggest guy in the room, having to look up at somebody. And his biceps are a bit wider than yours.”
His breath whooshed out in a surprised laugh. “You and your big arm fetish. Mine are still bigger than your waist. They haven’t gotten any smaller.”
I didn’t let myself look at them, but it was a struggle. And I’d looked enough already to know that he was right.
Absently, I rubbed at my bad knee under the table.
I felt him staring at me.
“Does it still hurt?” he asked softly, as though he couldn’t help himself.
I made my face into a very careful mask. “It’s fine, just a bit stiff. Nothing to concern yourself with.”
Nothing on earth could have shocked me more than when his hand touched my leg, sliding under mine to rub at my knee, somehow knowing just where to touch to ease the ache. He’d always had a special talent for that.
“What are you doing?” I asked through my teeth.
He didn’t even flinch away from the look of murder I sent him, the bold bastard. “I’m just trying to help,” he said, deadly earnest.
“I don’t need your help.” My tone was venomous.
He didn’t stop rubbing, still didn’t flinch away. Over the last six years, it had been way too easy to get him to back off, and I found that I had no clue what to do when my venom didn’t push him away.
“I know that. Believe me, I know it. But what if I need to give it?”
“We’re at the wedding of two people I adore, so I will be civil for about ten more seconds, but you had better believe that—“
“What about friendship? Can we just try that? No funny business, I swear.”
I felt so stiff, and I knew hostility was radiating off me in waves.
Frankie caught my eye, her arm around her girl. This was a wedding, a joyous occasion, and her concerned look swayed me. She was worried I’d cause a scene, and it hurt me that she was right to be worried.
I’m more mature than this, I told myself. And hell, why couldn’t we be friends? I didn’t think he was attracted to me anymore. I knew that what he wanted really was just friendship, and forgiveness, so why couldn’t I just give that to him? Why did I feel the need to shut him out completely?
I knew the answer. I was like a wounded animal, lashing out at his indifference, which had, over the years, solidified into the cause of my still raw pain.
“No funny business?” I asked, then spoke again before he could answer. “I actually believe that now. I didn’t figure you were into cripples.”
His hand dropped limply from my knee.
I got a look at his face, right before his gaze dropped down to the table, and instantly regretted saying something so ugly.
Whatever his feelings for me had turned into, I
still had the power to wound him deeply.
“I’m sorry,” I told him quickly.
I opened my mouth to speak again, but was interrupted by a furious looking Frankie.
She sat on Tristan’s other side, giving me a hostile look that I’d never have figured she’d direct at me.
“You okay?” she asked Tristan, her hand going to his arm.
He nodded shortly, stood up, and strode away.
“When are you going to stop hurting him? When is it going to be enough for you? If you needed him punished, congratulations, he’s been through hell. What more do you want?”
Part of me was livid about every word that came out of her mouth, but another part, the part that wouldn’t shut up today, knew she had a point. I had been punishing him, for six years I’d been punishing him, and it had gotten out of hand.
She stood, and I knew that it was to go after him, to make sure he was okay.
I stopped her with a grip on her hand. “I’ve got this,” I told her, standing. “You’ve got some best man duties to attend to.”
“Please, Danika. You don’t have to take him back, but please, just be kind to him. He’s been through enough. You both have. You’re hurting yourself with this bullshit, too, you know.”
I knew it. I let my eyes show her that as I nodded.
I found him walking aimlessly through the woods, somewhere between the wedding tents and the fortress of a building that James called a ‘house.’
“Tristan,” I called out loudly.
He froze. He didn’t turn around, just stopped.
I caught up to him quickly, grabbing his arm.
“I’m sorry I said that. It was an ugly thing to say, and I didn’t even mean it. You know how I am. I can never seem to keep things to myself, and sometimes they come out worse than I mean them.”