Brightest As We Fall

by Cleo Peitsche

  Now she was awake. Jason didn’t want to get into this, but he wouldn’t keep the truth from her. As she’d said, that was the deal. To stick together and work as a team.

  “I’m going to jail for ninety days.”

  “For what?” Then she added loudly and stiffly, “You didn’t kill anyone, and you gave all the money back.”

  Jason laughed. The coma hadn’t improved DeeAnn’s skill at deception.

  She glared at him. “Don’t laugh at me. And why are you going to jail?”

  “For stealing the bus. Actually, not even for that. The charge is for entrusting a commercial vehicle to an unlicensed driver. I think they invented it.”

  DeeAnn stared at him for a moment, then burst out laughing. Jason laughed, too. It was hilarious. All the bad shit he’d done, and that was the charge they refused to compromise on.

  “It’s not a federal crime, and Nevada was pretty annoyed with me. But I’m not even serving my time there. I’m going to some cushy place in Connecticut. No one wants more bad press, so I don’t have to worry about being stabbed in the shower. It’ll give me time to catch up on my reading list.”

  “Are you in pain?” DeeAnn gestured weakly at the casts covering his right arm and leg, the brace on his neck. “Kinda scary. You’re ready for Halloween.”

  Jason held her gaze. “I’ve never felt better.”

  It was the truth.

  Epilogue

  I wiggle off my silver heels and collapse onto a wrought iron bench festooned with garlands of aromatic white flowers. The bench sits on the enormous gazebo’s perimeter. Behind me, people in skirts and shorts are walking along a river, throwing bread to swans.

  I watch them for a minute, then turn back to my wedding-less wedding reception.

  The band is gone, on their five-minute break. The few guests who were on the dance floor have drifted back to their tables.

  “You got lucky with the weather,” Anita says, seeming to appear out of nowhere. She gestures for me to move over so she can sit. She’s wearing a black sheath dress, same as me. A dark-blue stripe cuts through her glossy hair, which is twisted up into some kind of fancy knot.

  “I got lucky with everything.” I hold out my hand. “Bride tax.”

  Sighing, Anita relinquishes her glass of champagne. I only take a couple of sips before handing it back. After all, I’m not a monster.

  “How’s Wabash doing with the new dog?” I ask. Anita adopted a second pit bull a few weeks ago. Or rather, a stray pit bull attached itself to their little family.

  “Wabash is fine. Cuyo is testing my patience, though. If I’m out of the house for more than half an hour, he chews his bedding. He’s cute as heck, but I’m starting to see why his asshole owner hasn’t called the shelter to report him missing.”

  “Cuyo. Kinda close to ‘Cujo,’ isn’t it?”

  “It’s short for Cuyahoga. Sticking to the river theme. If I keep him, maybe I’ll change it to something better.”

  “Oh, you’re keeping him,” I point out.

  “You’re right. Maybe I’ll call him Hog for short. It fits.”

  “Long live Hog,” I say. “Why don’t we move our weekly lunches somewhere dog friendly? So you can bring them.”

  “This is why you’re my best friend,” Anita sings.

  We sit in silence.

  Almost a year after the day when I climbed into Toby’s pickup, things have settled down. There was no need for witness protection; the dirty agents were willing to rat each other out in exchange for lesser sentences.

  Parauda will be spending the rest of his life behind bars, but some of the crooked agents merely retired early.

  With full pensions.

  It makes me furious, but Jason thinks that given how much we got away with, we shouldn’t be hypocritical.

  That money I stole? It was never intended for AJ. It was a payoff for Parauda, and Big Dax refused to replace it, saying Parauda should use his FBI resources to find me and Jason.

  The Jack Rebels lost a few top leaders, including Big Dax. Recording his own men had backfired on him. The FBI had loved it, though.

  But according to Anita, the biker gang is doing better than ever, overrun with wannabe recruits, and they still control the territory they gained by wiping out AJ’s crew.

  So, yeah, the Jack Rebels are going strong.

  That would worry me, but it’s understood that as long as Jason and I mind our own business from now on, the current leaders are willing to ignore us. I think they like their new image. Apparently, even dipshit criminals want to be famous.

  There’s a movie coming at the end of next year. Jason and I were paid script consultants. The production company wanted Jason, and he said we’re a package deal. Once I was added to the project, he made me promise not to let on what a huge jerk he used to be. And of course I acted like it would be unethical to change the story. Just to make Jason sweat. Which he handled by making me sweat. I smile, thinking about it, Jason stripped to the torso, bending me over the living room sofa and grinning sadistically as I apologized and begged and pleaded. Then, after saying he forgave me, he spanked me anyway.

  I fan myself, remembering.

  “I was dancing with the sexiest guy earlier,” Anita says.

  “Yeah, I saw,” I say, smiling. “But don’t tell him. He’s got a big enough ego already.”

  Anita tilts her head. “Really? He didn’t seem cocky.”

  “Wait… Are you not talking about Jason?”

  “Oh. Oh…” Anita smirks. “Jason is a snack and a half, but I try not to objectify my friends’ husbands. I mean the guy in the black suit.”

  “Archer Brachton? Tall, dark hair, dark eyes, really fit? Looks like a federal agent because he is one?”

  “Agent?” Anita’s nose wrinkles. “Ugh. Never mind.”

  “Brax. Archer Brachton. He’s the one who saved our lives,” I say. “Have you not watched any of my interviews?”

  “He introduced himself as Archer,” Anita says. “How was I supposed to know?”

  “I hope you didn’t try to sell him drugs.”

  Anita gives me a wounded look. “I’m not a dealer. Really, DeeAnn?” She knows that Jason and I secretly donated the rest of the stolen money to organizations that help addicts get their lives back on track. It was Jason’s idea.

  “Sorry.” I help myself to another sip of her champagne.

  “Well, I did offer to share with him,” she says guiltily.

  I groan. “Brax is a stickler for the rules, but if you tell him you were kidding, he’ll let it go.” Probably.

  “I also told him I’d fuck him better than if he was paying me. It was obviously a joke, but he didn’t laugh. At all.”

  “Yeah…” I draw out the word. “Yeah. He’s way too uptight for you, even for a one-night stand.”

  “Speak of the devils.”

  I follow Anita’s gaze. Jason and Brax have just returned to the gazebo. Jason is incredibly dapper in his tuxedo, with his hair lightly gelled away from his face.

  He’s scanning the crowd, looking for me. When our eyes meet, his smile pulls at my heart. I love him more than anything.

  “He doesn’t look happy.”

  I tear my gaze away from Jason for a millisecond, long enough to see Brax scowling. “Oh, that’s just his face.”

  The band members are picking up their instruments. “Excuse me,” I say, wiggling into my heels.

  Because this is my wedding-less wedding reception, and I’m going to dance with my husband.

  Many happy hours later, Jason and I enter the downtown San Diego penthouse we’re renting for the next few months. We tried moving back in with Anita, but it didn’t take long for journalists to track us down. When we want total privacy, we slip away to Jason’s little apartment building for a few days. The rooftop garden is coming along nicely. But the building is too isolated.

  Most of the time we’re here, in a centrally located building with a doorman.

  Once we�
��re permanently settled, I’m going to get my degree. Teaching kids is off the table, and that’s fair. I did like working in HR, so maybe I’ll do that.

  But I have time to figure it out.

  “Are you sure you don’t want a honeymoon?” Jason asks, tapping on the console that adjusts the lights and temperature. He always forgets to do it ahead of time on the app. “It’s not too late for me to whisk you away somewhere tropical.”

  “We had our honeymoon,” I say, admiring the gold band on his ring finger. “In Vegas. Don’t tell me you forgot!”

  Jason stoops to embrace my waist, and the next thing I know, I’m draped over his shoulder.

  He dips and lurches, making me shriek as he pretends to be too drunk to walk straight.

  I know he won’t drop me. Not this man, who did his best to shield me with his body, even though the whole point of jumping into the quarry was for both of us to die. Like, he really thought I was going to climb out and leave him behind?

  The way we landed, we were so lucky. I don’t even have headaches anymore. Once I was on the mend, Jason approached physical therapy the way he approached bartending the first time we lived in San Diego. Jason’s doctor said he was the most motivated patient he’s ever seen.

  Sometimes I think I actually did die that day.

  Well, there were ninety days when Jason was in Connecticut and I thought maybe I was in hell. He refused to let me visit. But other than that, I have no complaints.

  Jason tosses me onto the king-sized bed. Four massive bedposts, impossible to yank out of place when one is tied to them. Though I try every time.

  The sheets tonight are red, and they smell faintly of roses. This wasn’t my doing.

  “So romantic,” I murmur, caressing the soft, fragrant bedding.

  Jason has tugged his bowtie loose and it hangs unevenly around his neck. He climbs onto the bed and props himself over me, his eyes staring into mine.

  “Yeah,” he says. “Romantic. But also practical.”

  Uh-oh. I lick my lips nervously. “What?”

  “The look on your face!” He waits, enjoying my growing discomfort. Finally, he puts me out of my misery by saying, “I’m going to spank you tonight and I think it’ll look nice if my wife’s perfect ass matches the sheets.”

  My heart speeds up. “Yes, please.”

  Jason kisses me, and I wrap my arms around him and kiss him back, trying to rub my lower body against his.

  “Patience,” he murmurs. “We have all night. And tomorrow night. And the night after.”

  We have forever.

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