Finding Serenity (The Unexpected Love Series Book 2)

by Black, T. E.

  "Make me numb, Trent. I don't want to feel this anymore. I don't want to hurt anymore. Let's just be us for a little while. Please. This is our moment. Let's make it what we want it to be," I plead, running my hands under his shirt.

  "I love you so much, Shay. I'm so fucking sorry," he exhales against my mouth.

  "I love you too, Trent. God. I love you so much."

  He nods his head silently toward me, both of us knowing this is the end. This is going to be the moment where we give ourselves to each other one last time. The moment where we make love in the center of the Colosseum while stone walls crumble around us, bracing to kill us. We don't pay attention to the chunks of stone hitting the ground around us, though. Instead, we focus on each other.

  We make love as if it's our last damn chance.

  Brand New - “You Won’t Know”

  I'M AT THE point of no return, this I already know. I'm fucking destroyed. I have no fucking purpose for living anymore. I know I sound like a total pussy, but you can't make this shit up. You can't make up being this damn depressed and alone.

  I wake up every morning in an empty bed, in an empty house, missing what I had before all of this. I keep replaying it all in my head. I fucked it up so much quicker than I thought I would. If I had just stopped using, I could’ve fucking fixed us. I could’ve fixed myself. I could’ve stopped myself from being in my current situation, which is staring down the chrome barrel of my pistol. I could’ve stopped this from even being a thought in my mind, but what's a guy supposed to do when he's lost everything he fucking loves? His mother, his friends, his girl, and his fucking daughter. Not one of them wants to be around me, and I know I did it to myself.

  I caused this.

  The metal of the barrel reflects the light from the water, making an array of colors shining in the darkness. They hypnotize me, letting me see a shade of happiness for once in a long time. The delicate colors of the rainbow reflecting give me a glimmer of hope that not everything is black inside of me. If I can still see color, then my heart can’t be that far gone, can it?

  I've always assumed when someone was about to commit suicide, they wouldn't be able to see anything but demons, but I was wrong. Maybe I know somewhere deep down I can't go through with it. It takes courage to set down your one-way ticket out of your misery. It takes a heart to think about the others you love before you do it, and that's what's beating in my chest. My heart—the organ that defines us as humans.

  With shaky hands, I bring up my Glock, pressing the barrel against my temple with force. This is it. This is the end of me. This is the end of my reign of terror. I can’t hurt another soul if I’m gone. Hell, I refuse to hurt one more goddamned person in this life. Maybe in the afterlife, I’ll come back as a better man. Maybe I’ll come back as something entirely different. Will I be a bird in the sky or maybe a fish in the sea? Will I just swim through life without a care in my world? Can I finally be at peace with all the fucked-up demons I sleep with? I bet the path to the afterlife is a peaceful one. I bet that while you’re floating through the passageway, you see everything for what it always was. I bet your previous life flashes through your mind like a vintage picture show.

  Taking a deep breath, I move my finger to the trigger, keeping my touch light for the moment. Sweat trickles down my forehead, tracing the bridge of my nose before falling to the ground. My free hand shakes, making the pistol tremble at the thought of what I’m about to do. Am I a coward for having my finger on the trigger? I’m a coward going out the same way I almost took Shay out the first night we learned each other’s bodies. It’s ironic really. The fact all I can think about is her when I’m about to shoot myself is devastating. I should be thinking about a thousand other things, but my only thought is Shay Kirby.

  “Trent! Put me down!” she squeals as I swat her ass playfully.

  “Never, kitten!”

  I run through the living room, keeping Shay sturdy over my shoulder. She laughs genuinely, which is a rare thing for her. With every giggle, there’s always something off. It’s not necessarily because of me, but it’s just something that tells me she isn’t truly happy with the way her life turned out. I’m not saying she isn’t happy about having a daughter because there’s no doubt that went right for her. I’m just saying maybe she’s unhappy about being a single mother, or maybe she’s unhappy about not having Abby’s real father around. It could be anything with her, but I’ll always take what I can get when it comes to little moments like these.

  I toss Shay on her king-size bed, the bounce from the mattress making a squeak. She looks up at me, and her eyes sparkle like a thousand diamonds. I see her. I really look at her. She’s breathtaking. She’s a strong woman, one who never backs down from a fight or a challenge. She’s always the first to take the bull by the horns and go to war. She doesn’t have a weak bone in her body, well except for one—her heart. That heart is the sweetest sin there is. It’s kind, loving, and always forgiving. No matter what I’ve done wrong, she's always forgiven me. She always gives me a second chance. That says a lot about a person. Not many people can give out a second chance with no strings attached at the end. There’s always some ulterior motive attached to their kindness, but with Shay, there’s only love.

  “Why are you looking at me like that, Trent?”

  Her jet-black hair stays spread over my pillow, and it causes my breath to hitch. With a delicate touch, I trace over the tattoos on her throat. The detail of the pincushion heart makes me wonder what broke her heart. She got this tattoo for a reason.

  “Why are there four pins in this?” I continue to trace over her skin.

  She clears her throat uncomfortably, her eyes looking away from mine.

  “Talk to me, babe. Tell me something I don’t know about ya. You keep everything bottled up. That shit ain’t good to do. Every time I look in your eyes, I can see how alone ya feel. You’re not alone. Ya know that, right? You have me, Shay. You’ll always have me now.”

  Her head turns back, her eyes watery with silent tears. She nods her head, sniffling quietly.

  “The pin you’re touching is for my mom. She left a long time ago, and I hardly remember anything good about her. I only remember the worst of things about her,” she whispers, and I watch her compassionately.

  I move my fingertip to the second pin, rubbing over the ball at the top.

  “Abby wasn’t my only child, you know? I don’t open the wound often, but you want an explanation, right?”

  “Only if ya want to tell me,” I comfort.

  With a deep breath, her eyes gloss over again, the sight breaking my heart.

  “Abby had a twin sister. We named her Ally. There were … err … complications during birth. I don’t have to get into all of it. I planned to have two little girls, but in the end, I only had one. Abby survived and her sister was stillborn. I couldn’t wait to have two daughters. I had matching cribs picked out the day after we found out. I wouldn’t trade Abby for the world, but I still wish Ally could’ve just let out a breath. The doctors tried to revive her, but it wasn’t working …” She trails off.

  I press a kiss on her lips, licking away her tears.

  “It’s okay, baby. Ya don’t have to keep going. I know it doesn’t mean much, but just know I’m sorry.”

  She nods her head, and my fingers travel over the third pin.

  “Bruce.”

  That’s all she has to say. I know what happened between the two of them, and I won’t make her talk about it again. I know it tears her apart when she brings it up.

  The last pin makes me nervous because I can’t imagine what else could’ve happened to her. I still trace my fingertip across it, my heart pounding.

  “I reserved that one for the next person who will break my heart. There’s no one attached to it right now, but there will be someday. Everything good falls apart, Trent,” she whispers.

  My mouth comes down on hers as I swallow her words. I trace the seam of her lips as she opens up for me, invi
ting me in. We kiss, a hundred waves crashing around us.

  With my chest heaving and my mind a whirlwind, I touch my nose to hers. “I’m not gonna be the one to give that pin a reason, Shay.”

  Tears roll down her cheeks, my skin catching them from her. She wraps her hands around my neck, pulling me in for another kiss.

  The trigger is heavy in my mind. My finger presses a little harder on it, knowing that if I put an ounce more pressure on it, it’s going to go off. I look around, seeing stars in the clear night over the water. You don’t see stars in the middle of the city, but you do here. It calms my nerves. I’ve gotta do this. I can’t keep going on, a zombie in human form. I did these things to myself. I mean what am I really? It’s not as if I’m an important part of society. I’m a fucking drug addict. I can’t get clean because I don’t want to. What’s gonna happen to the world if I die? Nothing.

  I close my eyes, the stars fading from my view. I take my last breath, the fresh air pouring in my lungs.

  “I’m so fucking sorry,” I whisper to whoever can hear me.

  I press my finger into the cool swirl of the trigger, a tear slipping down my cheek. Fuck. This is it. This is the end.

  Click.

  I flinch at the movement, seeing lights from another world. Only, to my surprise, as I look at them, I still feel alive. My eyelids are still light, and my heartbeat can be heard in my ears.

  "What the fuck?” I scream, looking back at the night sky.

  I drop my pistol like it’s covered in flesh-eating bacteria. My hand recoils to my chest, and my body scoots away from it as quickly as it can. I don't know what the fuck happened there, but if that wasn’t a sign, then I don’t know what is. I know there’s a bullet in my gun. I know it’s in there because I loaded one round before I decided to come out here. I came here so no one would look for me. I didn’t want to be found. The gun, though, it had to have jammed. It’s the only explanation. All I know is I’m glad it didn’t go off. That wasn't me. If I had to take a guess, I'd say it was the drugs trying to make decisions there. You think I would’ve stopped using them after losing Shay, but right now, her and Abby are the only thing keeping me walking on this earth. They numb me to some extent, but it's not enough. I can snort my weight in cocaine, and I still see Shay and Abby every time I close my eyes. I can still hear Abby's small laugh and Shay's genuine giggles. The two noises burn my eardrums. They pollute me, dragging me into a dark place where I can't see anything but blackness.

  I stand, and with a deep breath, I grab my pistol from the ground, tucking it back in its holster before getting the fuck out of here. I don't need to be alone right now. So I head to the one place where people who mean nothing to me can surround me.

  “ASSHOLE,” RYLEIGH GREETS me.

  "Still mad at me?" I retort.

  "Well, I was going to forgive ya if ya came to apologize, but now, ya can kiss my ass."

  She starts to walk away, and I find myself reaching across the bar to her. My hand lands on her arm, and I look up at her. I can only imagine how fucked up I look. An hour ago, I tried to kill myself; now, here I am in a bar of all places.

  "Look. I'm sorry, all right?"

  "And?" she dangles in front me with a raised brow.

  God. Why can't she just take the fucking apology? Why does she always have to be so difficult?

  "And ... I'm an asshole. I shouldn't have done that at the meeting. I was wrong."

  The satisfactory grin on her lips lets me know this is what she wanted to hear. She reaches out her hand to me, opening it in a handshake.

  "Let's start over."

  I can't help but laugh. She has sarcasm for days. I go along with her little introduction, reaching out to take her hand with mine.

  "I'm Trent. Nice to meet ya."

  She leans over the bar, my hand still in hers, smiling from ear to ear.

  "Nice to meet ya, Trent. I'm Ryleigh. You can call me Ry. I'm Boston's favorite bartender. I take tips in cash, and ya can look, but ya can't touch."

  I pull a twenty from my wallet, slapping it on the counter while our hands stay interlocked.

  "Good to know, sweetheart. Now, take this twenty and go get your man a beer and a shot."

  Ryleigh obliges, letting out a laugh as she spins around to take my request. As soon as she walks down the bar, I let my head fall into my hands, expelling a long breath.

  I replay the chain of events which led up to this, and I know it's my fault. I fucked everything up. If I weren't getting high every fucking day, this wouldn't have happened. There's no denying it. I'm the one to blame, and there's not a goddamned thing I can do to fix it.

  Ryleigh comes back with my drinks, placing them on the bar. She gives me a sympathetic look.

  "Ya wanna get outta here? Ya look like you could use some company. Angie will gladly cover for me. We could go cause trouble like ol' times."

  I take a pull from my bottle, tossing my shot back and look away.

  "I don't know, Ry. I got a lot of shit going on right now."

  I hear her scoff, followed by her next word. "Pussy."

  My head snaps back to her, my mouth curving into a sly smile. She always knows how to get me to agree. She’s known me my entire life, and it shows how well she can read me.

  "Fine. Let me finish my drink, ya scootch," I agree.

  "Sounds good, pussy. I have to close out my drawer anyway."

  TWENTY MINUTES LATER, Ryleigh and are sitting by the water tossing back 40s like we're sixteen years old again. It reminds me how much I actually missed her being around. I've been friends with Ryleigh since I was a kid. She's the same age as my brother, Rook, so I guess I can thank him for always having her around.

  "So what’d ya do now?" she questions, tipping back her bottle.

  I glance over at her, only to find a small smirk of satisfaction on her lips and her head shaking back and forth. I don't answer immediately; instead, I look over the Boston Harbor, searching for an answer in the water, but it doesn't come. Nothing ever comes from seeking. Sometimes, you just have to suck it the fuck up and figure out the answers on your own. Because if there's one thing I've learned in life, you decide your fate. No one will decide it for you, and no one's gonna fucking save you in the end. You’re all you have.

  "Time's tickin'," Ryleigh draws out, taking another pull.

  "It got worse.”

  She doesn't reply, but the hum in her voice urges me to continue. She knew this was coming from a mile away.

  "I was snorting coke off her bathroom sink, for fuck's sake."

  She scoffs before she turns to me fully. Her hand finds mine, and she intertwines them easily and comfortably. The gesture makes me think of Shay, but with Shay, there was a spark when we touched. And with Ryleigh, there’s only comfort. We’re family.

  "Why do ya do this to yourself? I've known ya a long time. You've never been one to give in. So why are ya giving in now? Ya might act like ya can quit using anytime ya want, but I know you're lying."

  I shoot her a glare while my mouth snarls at her. Who the fuck does she think she is? I want to fucking quit. I really fucking want to quit. Look what it's cost me. It's fucking cost my happiness. It's cost me fucking everything.

  "Shut the fuck up. Ya know I want to quit. I just fucking can't."

  When I look away, I feel her fist connect with my jaw. I want to feel pure fucking rage, but I can't help feel I deserved it. Before I even come out of my thoughts, she's standing up and her fist connects with my face again. She screams at me, but I can't mistake the tears running down her face for a mile. I try to grab for her, but she pushes me off harshly.

  "There's a fucking difference, Trent! Ya don't wanna fucking quit! You're fucking selfish, and using your mom's death as an excuse is bullshit! Ya think you're the only one who’s sad about her dying? I'm fucking sad too, Trent! She was like a mother to me! Ya may not have known it, but I visited her as much as I could when she was in that fucking rehab center! Ya may have thought I wasn't a
t her fucking funeral, but I fucking was! Using her death as an excuse to go insane is a dirty fucking thing to do because we both know ya were fucked up before she died!"

  I can't speak. I'm at a loss for words. Ryleigh and I haven't spoken in months, and here she is, being my big sister again. She's letting hell rage, and I'm the fucking gatekeeper.

  I know she's right, and it makes me fucking sick to my stomach. She's the one person in my life who will tell me like it is, and for that, I’ll always love her. So I do what I do best when I'm wrong; I comfort her for a change. I pull her into my lap, and she buries her head in my shoulder and cries against me. She smacks me in the chest repeatedly, and I take it because I deserve it.

  "You're not the only one who loved her, Trent," she whispers through her sobs.

  I rub my tattooed hand down her back in soothing lines, hoping to calm the storm, while I whisper into her hair. "I know ya did."

  Seafret – “Oceans”

  "WHY ARE YOU leaving? You don't have to," Gunner pleads, looking up at me with sad eyes.

  I bow my head, blowing out a long breath. He shouldn't even be asking me the question. He knows why I'm quitting. I still can't look at Trent without the ache in my heart pounding. It's been a week since I've seen or talked to him, but the wound is still fresh. I respect him giving me space, but it doesn't mean I didn't want him to fight for me. Is it that hard? All he had to do was show me he cared, and maybe we could’ve fixed this. He had his chance.

  "I can't see him anymore," I whisper into the stale air filling the shop.

  I tear up with the words and turn away from Gunner. He doesn't need to see this. I've cried enough tears to end a drought, yet here I am, crying once again.