Destroyed Destiny (Crowne Point Book 4)

by Mary Catherine Gebhard

  “What?” Lottie blinked. “Why are you here?”

  Grayson and he exchanged a long look.

  Oh no. Oh, fucking no.

  I glared at Grayson. You fucking didn’t.

  “I, uh…” Grayson scratched his head. “I may have…sent him a letter.”

  Both Lottie and I shot him the same look at the same time.

  “Why would you do that, Grayson?” Lottie gritted.

  As if on cue, the reason started to cry in his carrier. Jack’s gaze zeroed on it, following as Lottie lifted her baby out. Unblinking. Focused.

  Stunned.

  “I’m…” He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. “I’m staying at our family home, here in town.”

  “I don’t see why I need to know that,” Lottie clipped.

  “Charlie—”

  Lottie spun, giving him her back.

  After a minute, Jack exhaled. “You know where to find me.” He walked back the way he came.

  I glared at Grayson.

  Grayson grabbed Sonnet from my arms, acting completely oblivious to my and Lottie’s ire. He rocked Sonnet back and forth, making faces.

  “What did you tell him?” Lottie demanded.

  “Nothing that was yours to tell,” he said easily, still making faces at Sonnet. “But you deserve to be happy, Lottie.”

  Lottie’s face caved, then she shook her head. “Not with him. Never with him.”

  Grayson sighed. “Lottie—”

  “Grayson, with you I became someone wrong, someone greedy, someone bad. A liar. I was the other woman. With him…” She looked over her shoulder, at Jack’s retreating body. “It would be ten times worse. I’m not just the other woman, I’m the same age as his daughter. A daughter I like. Jack and I were never supposed to happen.” She shook her head. “It will never happen again. I will never be that woman again.”

  I nodded, understanding, but still so sorry, and so sad that Lottie couldn’t have someone without complications.

  A town car pulled up, but Lottie lingered.

  “I’m sorry—” Lottie started.

  Grayson held up his hand, stopping her. A silence descended, and he rubbed his forehead with the same hand.

  “I am.”

  “If I accept your apology, I feel like I have to accept it’s your fault. And it’s not.”

  She shifted on her feet. “But I did wrong.”

  “We all did, Lottie. I never wanted to do this to you…I never wanted to make you my mother. To leave your heart out to rot.”

  “It’s not rotted,” she said softly. “It’s just a little rusted.”

  He worked his jaw, in the way I knew he was about to drop some kind of ultimatum. “I’ll accept your apology, but you have to promise not to disappear from our lives.”

  I perked up. I know she had a lot she needed to learn about herself, but I didn’t want Lottie to disappear. I was actually going to miss her.

  “I can’t promise that,” she whispered.

  After her luggage was put away and her child safely secured, we all lingered.

  “Well, goodbye,” Lottie said.

  “Good luck, Lottie,” Gray said.

  I looked between all three of us. This couldn’t be how it ended, quietly as we all stare at the vines in the marble.

  I rushed Lottie, pulling her into a hug. She froze, in my embrace, arms at either side.

  “I’m going to miss you,” I said, face pressed into her creamy, periwinkle jacket.

  “I…” Lottie swallowed. “I will too.”

  Her hand found my back, timid but there all the same.

  I stepped back, swiping my nose. Her car was waiting for her, and she had to go. After everything, it was bittersweet watching her get in the glossy car.

  She waved as the door shut.

  Jack was walking down the long, cobblestone driveway and her car drove by him. He paused, watching it go through the gates, a distant look in his eyes. Almost like he wasn’t letting it go—letting her go.

  I hoped for her sake that she would find someone uncomplicated. Someone easy.

  Sonnet still slept soundly in Grayson’s arm, curled into his bicep. He looked like he belonged in this role, and every time I saw him with her, I got tangled up in heat.

  His head dropped, as if reading my thoughts.

  Grayson pulled my hand to his lips. “What was that about my wife needing to be fucked?”

  I curled into his touch. “What was that about my husband fucking me—”

  “Ah, am I interrupting?”

  He froze with my hand still to his lips, eyes lifting over my shoulder. I looked over my shoulder, though I didn’t need to.

  I knew the voice.

  Grim Reyes in Crowne Hall, standing beneath Tansy’s massive chandelier.

  Seventy-Eight

  GRAY

  I gently handed Sonnet to Story, then pushed them behind my back, turning to face the head of the Horsemen. “Here to settle your debt?”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “Not quite.”

  So, here to remind me of it then.

  He leaned to the side, trying to get a glimpse of Story. “I think we’re beyond this. I’ve had my hand inside your wife.”

  “If you’re trying to upset me, it won’t work,” I said easily. “You saved my wife and my child. I’m indebted to you beyond a simple tattoo.”

  “That’s good, because this is more than a simple tattoo.” Grim slowly leaned back, gaze locking with mine again.

  Tension threaded the silence. We owed him a giant fucking debt, but he had yet to call on it. Instead, he visited every now and then, and I didn’t know how the fuck he got through.

  “Whatever the Horsemen need, the Crownes will oblige.”

  Grim arched a brow, grinning. “You might regret saying that. Well…” Grim speared his hands in his pockets. “Until next time.”

  He turned, disappearing down our sprawling cobblestone driveway.

  “How does he keep getting through?” Story asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  Once Grim left, we’d spend hours trying to figure out how he got in, and attempt to patch the hole. And once again, I was sure, he’d fucking figure out a way to get inside my walls.

  It was impossible to keep death out.

  I grabbed Story’s face between my palms, drawing her close. “Little wife, there’s a surprise for you in the garden. When you’re finished, meet me in our room.”

  Her brows popped. “A surprise? What is it?”

  I was going to propose to Story Hale, finally.

  For real.

  Tonight.

  I kissed her softly. “Then it wouldn’t be a surprise. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

  I took Sonnet from her, trying to hold back my laugh at the suspicion in her eyes. It was too fucking cute.

  “Don’t forget to do what you’ve been putting off for a month, Grayson.”

  How the hell did she find out?

  Her brow caved at the confusion on my face. “Gemma?”

  I rubbed a hand across my jaw. “Oh, right.”

  “What did you think I was talking about?” she asked.

  I tilted my head in the direction of the garden. She scrunched her nose at me, but with a kiss for Sonnet, left.

  Then I went to find my sister.

  Gemma was in her wing, on her balcony. Muffled voices trailed out, as though she were in a conversation.

  “Are you talking to someone?” I asked.

  She gasped, spinning. “Fuck. Creepy motherfucker. How long have you been standing there?” She shut the double French doors that led to her balcony, coming inside. “Why are you here?” Gemma tilted her head at Sonnet sleeping in my arms. “I am not babysitting.”

  I looked over her shoulder. The balcony appeared empty.

  “I wanted to say…” I dragged my free hand through my hair.

  Fuck, why was this so fucking hard?

  I could destroy my grandfather, but I couldn’t apologize to
my fucking sister.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled.

  She frowned. “Are you concussed?”

  I shrugged my shoulder. “I’ve been a shitty brother.”

  She looked me up and down, then spun around. She threw pillows off her bed, dumped makeup brushes off her vanity.

  “What are you doing?”

  She peered into a glass. “Where are the cameras?”

  “This isn’t a fucking prank. I’m sorry. And now that grandfather is out, I’ve called off your wedding to Horace.”

  Gemma choked on her spit. “Wait, what? You did what? What the fuck?”

  “I thought you’d be happy. You’ve complained about your engagement to Horace for as long as I can remember. It’s fucking barbaric.”

  “Get him back. Reinstate the engagement.”

  What the fuck is happening? “It’s too late.”

  “This is what I get for doing something nice? You just fucked me. Royally.”

  She left, stomping out of her room.

  STORY

  The changes inside Crowne Hall were subtler at first.

  Like how the air seemed lighter, less ghostly, as if more shadows had given way to light. It was almost like a curse had been lifted from the Crowne family. They were still the uniquely dysfunctional family I’d known for decades. Still spoiled and out-of-touch, but the dark and oppressive energy was lifting.

  I think everyone here just wanted to be free to love, even as a family.

  I wasn’t sure what was waiting for me in the garden. It seemed empty, then I heard laughter, and I followed it to the servants.

  “You didn’t get a memorial,” Jane said.

  “And we never said we’re sorry,” they all said.

  They parted, revealing a part of the garden that looked new. My uncle’s favorite poems were etched into stone steps. Flowers bloomed around us, and songbirds perched in gilded cages.

  I read the words inscribed on the marble bench.

  Woodson Hale Memorial Garden.

  I swiped uselessly at the tears.

  For a few hours, we all sat and shared memories and poems until the sun set and they had to get back to work. I wondered as they left. They couldn’t have done this on their own. Had Tansy helped set up the garden?

  I had an hour or so until I had to meet Grayson, and I checked on my Instagram.

  I had a following of over 2.5 million now. After “coming out” as a cheater and a liar, it seemed to resonate with a lot of people. Every Dear Atlas was reblogged or reposted. I was getting a lot of emails from publishing houses and agents.

  I wasn’t hiding anymore.

  I lifted my head, feeling like my uncle was with me in this garden filled with songbirds and poetry. I don’t know if this was what he meant, but it felt like it.

  “You can’t hide behind the other side of the tracks forever, Rich GGirl.” I paused at the head of the Horsemen’s voice, turning my head just in time to see Grim pluck a cigarette out of Gemma’s mouth and stamp it out beneath his black boot. “Don’t smoke. You taste better.”

  I waited until Grim had left before approaching. When he was gone, she pulled out another cigarette, lighting it with a rose gold lighter and pushing it between her rosebud lips, glaring in the direction he’d left.

  “Gemma?”

  She looked over her shoulder, flipping her shiny, short blonde hair as she did.

  “Hey, Stony.”

  I ignored the jab as I sat down beside her. The more I was with Gemma, the more I saw how similar she was to Gray. She wasn’t like Aundi and Pipa. There was a darkness in her eyes, and the perfect spoiled princess act she put on was a shield, an act, an armor.

  You don’t catch the eyes of Grim without reason.

  She took a puff of the cigarette, staring out at the ocean with her bright blue eyes. “So you, like, own my house now.” She blew smoke rings toward the ocean. “Does that mean my sister will be allowed back?”

  I nodded.

  “Ugh. Gross.”

  But her lips quirked slightly. I fiddled with my skirt. I never thought I’d be in this position, owing Gemma Crowne.

  I don’t know if Sonnet or I would have survived without her.

  If I would have been able to handle Grim and the Horsemen without her.

  If I would have ever found my way back to Grayson.

  “So…Thank you.”

  She scrunched her face at me like I’d just asked her to eat a bug. “Stooop,” she whined. “I’m going to need you and Grayson and everyone acting like fucking pod people to stop saying thank you and sorry and just—” She waved her cigarette in the air.

  So, Grayson apologized then.

  “Okay, so can you, like, please go?” She stamped her cigarette on the wall, annoyed. “I can’t smoke around you.”

  I gave her a look, and she waved her hand around my boobs. “Doesn’t it, like, get into your breast milk or something?”

  Nope, Gemma Crowne was definitely an enigma.

  “Someone once told me the villain and the princess have a relationship too, even if it’s unwanted. Is he your villain? Or your hero?”

  Gemma captured her plump lower lip between her top two teeth, brow furrowing. “He’s both.”

  Seventy-Nine

  GRAY

  Story was looking out the window like the first time I’d come to her, and I was just as stricken then as I was now. Finally she was wearing her old clothes again—if not better quality.

  Soft lace kissed her throat and wrapped around her wrists. White silk flowed over her gingerbread skin. She was a Victorian queen—my fucking queen.

  I spent a month trying to think of the perfect way to propose to Snitch.

  No ring was good enough for her.

  No trinket could ever express my love.

  Sonnet made a small sound and Story turned, smiling. Her eyes fell to Sonnet, then to me.

  “Hi,” she whispered.

  Story took Sonnet, and I wrapped my arms around them both, dragging Story to my chest.

  We both looked out the window, not counting the minutes.

  At peace.

  Sonnet scrunched her nose at the breeze. The world outside was calm, like an old photo picked off the sand. The saltwater air smelled sweeter, the cawing of the seagulls muted and almost melodic.

  Story leaned into my chest. “Why did you want to meet me here?”

  I kissed the underside of her jaw. “I want you anywhere. But here…” I looked around at our room. “This place is ours, and I couldn’t do it anywhere else.”

  She turned around in my embrace. She lightly fingered the green pocket square I’d stuffed into my suit. “You still have this?”

  It was wrinkled, stained with blood, but yeah. I wasn’t about to throw it out.

  “Grayson, I…” Her brow caved, and she held out Sonnet. “I don’t know if I can do this holding her.”

  I pulled her into my arms. “Do what?”

  “I’ve spent a month trying to think of the best way to do this… Everything feels so…underwhelming.” Her wide eyes met mine, pleading. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry this isn’t epic. I’m sorry it’s so much less than you deserve. I wanted to light the sky on fire for you. But each day, every idea felt worse. And I can’t go another fucking day waiting…so…”

  My heart pounded with the sadness in her eyes, the hopelessness.

  I was ready to tear apart whoever made her look like that.

  “Snitch?”

  Suddenly she dropped to her knees, hand holding mine.

  My heart pounded. “What are you doing?”

  She smiled at me, beautiful, white, and bright. “I’ve been thinking about my uncle’s wish a lot. His wish was for mine to come true…and it did. My wish was you. My wish was her. My wish was family. I know he wanted me to leave Crowne Hall, but that was because he never saw what you made it. My uncle loved you. He saw you before I did. He always used to say you were a sweet boy who was forced to grow thorns.” She swallowed, tea
rs marbling her eyes. “You ripped out the thorns vining Crowne Hall. You made this place beautiful and bright again. I think he would be more than happy, I think he would be proud. Grayson Crowne, will you marry me?”

  I exhaled.

  Fuck.

  “You fucked up my proposal, Snitch.”

  STORY

  Before I could say a word, Grayson dropped to his knees with me, pressing his forehead to mine, our child cushioned between us.

  “I came here to propose to you, little wife.”

  “Did you really?” My smile stretched my cheeks.

  He shifted Sonnet and reached into his breast pocket, pulling out something thin and glass-blown.

  “It’s a pen. Hand-blown. You have to dip it in ink to draw anything with it. Without ink it’s…unfinished.”

  “The ink you gave me,” I said, touching my locket.

  “Like the pen and the ink, I don’t work without you, Story Hale. I’ve broken thousands of promises to you. We’ve tied our knot thousands of different ways. Our love will always have a stain. Everyone will always see you as my mistress, as the girl who broke up my marriage. Everyone will always see me as the man who left his pregnant wife.

  “I wanted to give you a perfect happily ever after, a perfect love, but you taught me that’s fantasy. What I want most—what I need—is you, us, this. So…will you love me imperfectly ever after? Ugly ever after? Sadly and hatefully and angrily ever after?”

  I nodded crazily, my words stuck in my throat.

  Too happy to speak.

  He gripped my neck. “Say it.”

  I exhaled the butterflies in my stomach. “Yes.”

  “For real,” Grayson said. “Forever?”

  “Forever, Grayson Crowne. For always.” God, that was like a weight off my chest.

  Tears fell, and with them a heaviness, an ache, that had built, flowed out of me, and I could breathe. He thumbed my tears, a delicious smile spreading his cheeks, the dimples feathering with it.

  “That’s my girl.” Then he kissed me, rough, slow, and with a closed mouth.

  I wanted to crush myself against him, but we were careful to keep Sonnet safe.

  And somehow that made it even more perfect, because it was another reminder of everything we had.