Heart in Wire

by R. L. Griffin

  Marly had been the biggest surprise of his life; he couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have found her. She was sexy as hell and kept him on his toes. He’d learned she graduated from Tulane Law in the top third of her class, which meant she was smart as shit. She made him remember himself, his real self, not how he was around El. When he was with El, it was like part of him disappeared. Marly gave that back to him. He was slowly opening up to her, but worried it was too soon.

  They had to hide their relationship at work, which sucked, but dating in the office wasn’t allowed and it was something he didn’t know how to resolve.

  Fortunately, she owned a house in Ashford Park and turned out to be only a few blocks from his apartment. She had a dog, some sort of terrier that was small and sort of fluffy. It was a yippy dog and annoyed him. He wouldn’t be caught dead walking it himself, it was a chick’s dog. It made him miss Cooper.

  Patrick put his jacket on as he went to the door. She opened after the second knock, barefoot but clad in a tight red dress.

  His jaw dropped. “I change my mind. We’ll be staying in tonight,” he said, taking in her dress. He pulled a bouquet of white roses from behind his back and gave them to her.

  “For me?” she said in faux shock.

  “Only if I get to peel that tight ass dress off you later.”

  “Well, you’ll be disappointed when you do.” She took the roses from him and walked into the kitchen, where she filled a vase with water.

  “Why’s that?”

  Marly didn’t even look at him. “Because I don’t have anything on under it.”

  Patrick lunged at her and pressed her against the counter. He ran his hand up her inner thigh and groaned. No underwear.

  She smiled mischievously. “You thought I was lying?”

  “No, I just wanted to make sure.” Patrick began pulling the dress up her thighs and she moaned, pushing back against him.

  They both looked up when they heard a beep.

  “Oh, I got us a car to drive us to dinner tonight,” he remembered aloud.

  “What?” she squealed and pulled her dress down. “Shit!” she yelled as she ran through the house. “I’m not even ready!”

  “I hired the driver, he can wait.”

  Silence.

  “Marly!” he called a few minutes later.

  She walked back in the kitchen with mile high heels that matched her skin, making her legs go on forever. She would be wearing those later, he decided.

  “So where are we going?” She pulled on a coat over her dress.

  “Woodfire Grill.”

  “Really?” She ran the three steps to him and kissed him. “Thank you.”

  Patrick knew she’d wanted to go to that restaurant since she’d been in Atlanta; it was really popular and the menu changed daily based on the local fare available. He knew it was fucking expensive, too. He grabbed her ass and took her hand, leading her to the car waiting in the driveway.

  “Anything for you.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  DÉJÀ VU

  An undercover operation wrapped today; Patrick was on the team that came in after the fact to obtain evidence and take all the perps into custody. The other team had really done all the work, they were the team that made sure the lawyers got everything they needed for the cases. He liked learning this part of the process, he enjoyed growing in different directions. The Atlanta position had been exactly what he needed.

  He was just shutting the door on the van loaded with gun runners when his phone buzzed. When he was in the field, it was protocol that he only had his ATF phone; he left his personal phone in his car.

  “Greer,” he barked.

  “Patrick, babe…you need to get to your personal phone.”

  A cold chill skated across his spine. “Marly? What’s going on?”

  “Babe, I don’t want to tell you where you are. Understand?”

  What was it? Why couldn’t she tell him? He checked his watch, it was a little after ten at night, and Marly wasn’t even in Atlanta. She’d been working on a huge gun trafficking case in Birmingham for the last two weeks.

  “Okay, let me step away for a minute.”

  The crime scene was bustling, but he was able to walk a few houses down, where it was quiet.

  “What is it?”

  “First of all, I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, especially where you are. I wish you’d leave and just call me back.”

  “Fucking tell me,” he demanded.

  “It’s Trevor.”

  Trevor. Marly didn’t even know about Trevor, he didn’t tell anyone about Trevor.

  “What about him?” he choked out.

  “Baby, he passed away a few hours ago.”

  “What?” he croaked.

  “He and your mom were in a car accident. Your mom’s okay, she’s just banged up.”

  “How?”

  “They were on 95 and there was an accident and he was killed on impact. That’s all I know.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “Oh…” She was quiet for a minute. “Stella messaged me on Facebook when she couldn’t get in touch with you.”

  “El?” His mind wasn’t processing anything at the proper speed.

  “Babe, do you have someone who can drive you home?”

  He stared at the flashing lights around him.

  “Babe…Patrick?”

  “Oh, I’ll drive myself.” He looked down at this trembling hand. “I have to go. Thanks for getting in touch with me.” He disconnected and looked for Larry, his supervisor for this operation.

  After he told Larry his brother had died, he got in his car and drove to his office to pick up his car. Then he called his sister.

  “KK?”

  All he heard was crying. There was a rustling sound. “Patrick?”

  It was his mom. “Mom! Are you okay?”

  “I’m just a little bruised. Trevor died, Patrick.” Her voice was spookily calm. “He died in the car with me.”

  “I’m leaving now, Momma.” He pulled into a parking space and got out. His mind was racing, worrying about checking in with work and letting them know he’d be gone, panicking over how the fuck El found Marly on Facebook, and trying to figure out if his only suit was clean.

  “Be careful,” she said with a sigh. “We’ll be at the house. I’ve got to make all the arrangements tomorrow. You can help with that.”

  “Okay.” Patrick rubbed his face with his hand. He didn’t know how to feel; it was too much of a shock.

  Life was so tenuous. His brother had survived being shot, but was killed in a car accident.

  “Momma, I love you.”

  “You too, baby boy.” She hung up.

  He made it to Savannah in less than four hours. It was a little after 2:00 am when he got to his mom’s house. He used his key and was surprised when Katrina and his mother were awake, drinking wine. They were on bottle number three. Despair hung in the air and permeated the walls and carpet.

  What an impossible situation.

  His sister jumped up and hugged Patrick. “I can’t believe he’s gone,” she mumbled into his chest.

  Patrick’s mother stayed sitting on the couch, drinking her glass of wine.

  “Is she okay?” he whispered in Katrina’s ear.

  She shrugged and then shook her head.

  “I’m glad you made it okay, baby boy,” his mother said as Patrick pulled her into his arms.

  Katrina walked to the kitchen and got a glass for Patrick. He didn’t like wine too much, but he’d drink what he could at this point. He couldn’t stay here; it was too much. He’d get a hotel the next night. He was a pussy. He was selfish.

  Patrick pulled his phone out and texted Marly that he got to Savannah okay. She was in the last few days of a very high profile case. She’d told him she was trying to get a continuance or get the other attorney to cover for her. The problem was, the last two days of the trial were hers and the other attorney wasn’t
prepared. Marly assured him she’d get there as soon as she could. Patrick understood, and to him, this finally felt like closure on something that happened over a decade ago. He was a horrible person for thinking Trevor was better off dead than in a perpetual state of puberty, but the Trevor he knew would’ve been mortified at what he’d become.

  “Momma, what happened?” he finally said.

  “The car’s totaled,” she answered.

  Patrick looked at Katrina.

  “The police said a car was just stopped in the middle lane of 95, just stopped,” his sister supplied, “no lights on or anything. Mom didn’t see that car and rear-ended it going about 80 miles per hour. Then her car was hit by an 18-wheeler.” She looked at her feet, shuffling them. “Trev was killed on impact. I’m surprised Mom wasn’t too.”

  “Holy shit.”

  “He was just stopped in the middle of the highway,” his mother said absently. “I didn’t see him. I didn’t see him.” Her voice disintegrated into tears.

  Patrick moved to hug her again. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “Do you remember when Trevor got his scholarship to Georgia Southern?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Remember how happy we all were?”

  Patrick nodded.

  “No parent should have to bury their child,” she commented. “Twice,” she whispered.

  “What?” Katrina asked.

  “Twice, KK. I’m going to have to bury your brother twice.”

  Patrick and Katrina looked at each other, equally unsure of what to say or do.

  “I hope it’s easier this time.” His mother stood up and drained her glass, then disappeared into her room.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  MY PERSON

  The light filtered in through the many stained glass windows that lined the sanctuary, giving the room a soft glow. Patrick had made all these decisions, he thought, sitting in the front row of the church they’d attended as a family before Trevor had been shot. The spray of white lilies on the casket, the singing of Amazing Grace, the Bible verses read, he’d made every choice. What the fuck did he know about flowers or what songs Trevor would want? Patrick went to the funeral home himself because his mother had been hysterical and Katrina had to take her to the doctor to get some sort of medication.

  After he left the funeral home, he’d gone to the mall and purchased a suit for Trevor because he didn’t have one. He picked a charcoal gray suit with a yellow shirt and a tie that pulled it together. The viewing was a blur; he remembered seeing several of Trevor’s friends from high school who came by to pay their respects. Patrick probably even spoke to them, but he didn’t recall anything clearly.

  His sister’s sobs shook him out of his escape from this moment. That painful moment where a person stands up at a funeral and tries to make sense of death, tries to soothe those sitting in the room, looking at their loved one in a box. Patrick had decided there wouldn’t be anyone to speak other than the pastor. What would they say? How could tragedy strike this unlucky man twice in his lifetime? How sad it was that Trevor was so young? Patrick did believe in God, he did believe that you were supposed to live a certain way. He knew he hadn’t lived that way. He’d killed someone, and he couldn’t help wondering if this was some sort of sick karma.

  He’d had to call his father to tell him that Trevor died and the time of the funeral. It was the first time he’d spoken to that man since he was 14. The conversation was stilted and one of the most difficult things Patrick had ever had to do. It wasn’t surprising his piece of shit father couldn’t make it. Not many people did make it.

  “Patrick,” Katrina said again and grabbed his hand.

  Looking up, he saw the funeral was over and people were leaving. He held his sister’s hand and wrapped his arm around his mother as they walked down the aisle of the church. He saw some of his extended family as they left, but he was more concerned with the fact his mother wasn’t even blinking.

  Then he saw Jamie’s parents sitting in the back; he almost collapsed at the sight of them there. He fought all emotions warring in him, the injustice of his brother’s situation, the irrational/unwelcome sense of relief Patrick felt now that Trevor was at peace, and the fact that the parents of the friend he’d killed were there to support his family with their loss.

  As his family walked from the Town Car he’d rented to drive them for the day, he was pulled to the side and embraced in arms so tight he felt an instant reprieve from the confusion he was feeling. He felt confident in these arms, these arms belonging to the only man who’d been like a dad to him in a decade.

  “I’m so sorry, Patrick,” Frank whispered.

  “Thanks for coming, Frank.”

  “Of course.” Frank stepped back and looked at Patrick. “Do you need anything?”

  Patrick shook his head.

  “Patrick, you need anything, you call me.”

  “Yes, sir.” Patrick nodded and then hurried to the front row so that they could get this part of the service over with. This was the hard part, the part where Trevor was lowered into the ground, forever. He hoped his mother would be okay. She’d been taking care of Trevor for so long, Patrick didn’t know if she would know what to do without him.

  Patrick opened his eyes and took her in. She was still in her dress, but had kicked off her heels. Her black hair covered her face, her hands could be in prayer under her cheek—she looked angelic. She’d slept with him the entire night, her hand intertwined in his, trying to give him some comfort. He attempted to roll away from her on the bed. She startled awake and looked around in confusion. Realization spread slowly across her features, her slim nose and perfect pouty mouth that he wanted to take domain over brightening. She was softer somehow, like all her sharp edges were rounded.

  Why did she still have this control over him? It was maddening.

  “Morning,” she croaked, wiping her eyes with her fingers.

  Patrick rolled back over to face her, their faces inches apart. “Why are you here?”

  “Because we’re each other’s person,” she answered.

  “No, we aren’t.” Patrick examined her eyes. “Not anymore.”

  “We could be...” Her voice broke. “I want to be.”

  “All I want is to rip that dress off you and fuck you,” he said boldly. “That’s what I want.” He eased himself off the bed and rushed to the bathroom. The water hit his face, freezing cold at first, making goosebumps rise all over his body, and then the water got so hot it was burning off the emotions that sat on top of his skin. He hadn’t cried yesterday, he’d already shed all the tears he could for Trevor. His brother had lost everything 14 years ago; this was just the end of the road and a relief to his family.

  Was it wrong to think that?

  Patrick was confused by his thoughts of El. He was happy with Marly. He was moving forward without El, piecing himself back together, and then she showed up and reopened all of his wounds, the barbed wire tightening again.

  He thought he heard someone knock on his door. He turned the water off, but El had already opened it and he heard a muffled male voice mix with hers. Patrick opened the door, the towel wrapped around his waist, to see Jesse embracing El. Jesse’s chin was on El’s head and his eyebrows lifted at Patrick in question.

  “So, although I’m excited to see you, Stella...” Jesse started, his face giving away his concern.

  “Ugh. He needed someone. I was here.” Stella pushed off Jesse’s chest and walked to the bed, where she sat down and began putting her shoes back on.

  “Dude, I’m sorry I missed the funeral. I came as soon as I heard.” Jesse pulled Patrick into a hug. Jesse had been on vacation in Italy; Patrick couldn’t believe he flew back here for him.

  “Thanks, man. It means a lot…you coming.” Patrick looked at El, who was fiddling with her phone. “Let’s go grab breakfast.”

  “Sure.” Jesse smiled and went to where El was sitting and plopped down next to her on the bed.
/>   Patrick’s heart clenched at them sitting together, so at ease with each other. She began showing him pictures of Liam; Patrick half-listened as Jesse praised the boy in all the right ways. He grabbed some jeans and a t-shirt and went into the bathroom to change. He hadn’t allowed himself to think about what it meant for her to come, hadn’t wanted to think about any unresolved feelings, any desire for her to whisper in his ear and tell him she loved him.

  And she pulls me back in again.

  Patrick eased into the booth next to El, forcing Jesse to sit opposite him. It was dumb, possessive, and just wrong. Her dress moved up her thigh as she scooted over and smiled at Jesse. They’d already waited in line to order breakfast and then sat with numbers, waiting.

  El put out silverware for all three of them, but all he saw was her big fucking ring. Fuck. His heart still ached for her, to touch her, and she was fucking married and he was with Marly. Why was it that he forgot everything when El was around? He was right back where he was when he left—why does his mind do that? It’s easy to forget about her being in Atlanta.

  His phone buzzed. It was Billy, he was here in Savannah, looking for them. Patrick texted him the address. He’d seen him and his girlfriend at the funeral, but Billy knew to give him space.

  “So Stella, how’s life treating you?” Jesse asked.

  She sighed and her breasts moved up and down, bigger than they used to be. “I’m fucking exhausted. Liam is a hurricane.” She smiles. “I guess he comes by it honestly.”

  “I saw you on the news the other day.” Jesse took a sip of his orange juice. “Are you seriously representing the Congressman accused of raping his niece?”

  “Ugh, my firm is,” Stella replied, hanging her head. “It’s disgusting. He’s disgusting.”

  Fuck. They were making small talk and all Patrick thought about was running his hands under her dress, up her thighs.

  “Patrick?” Jesse asked, amused.

  “Huh? What?” Patrick snapped his eyes away from El’s thigh to look at Jesse.

  Jesse looked at him knowingly. “How long are you staying in Savannah?”