by M. N. Forgy
I pull my hand from his, a sob escaping my mouth as I stand. My body thunders with blistering rage, and I feel like I might vomit. I cover my mouth with the back of my hand and close my eyes. My mother flashes behind my eyelids, then ominous wings.
“Nobody even knew Maria had a kid,” he mumbles. Knowing my mother protected me from the estate when I was a child causes admiration to bubble in my chest. I wonder if she feared Miller, or if she knew he was capable of evil. I bet that’s why she aborted his unborn child.
“The tattoo on your back, I saw it that day. But I don’t remember how.”
“When I stepped up to block you, it made me closer to your mother. Blood splattered on me, and Father told me to take my shirt off and wipe my face with it. Our car was parked right outside, so nobody would notice if I was wearing a shirt or not. So I took it off, cleaned myself, and we left.”
I shake my head, not wanting to believe anything he’s saying.
“Do you know what kind of Hell you put me in? What life you placed in my hands?” I yell, pointing at him with resentment.
He stomps forward, his jaw ticking as he grabs me by the shoulders. “I fucking saved you. If it weren’t for me, your shitty life wouldn’t have ever happened.
“In fact, I’ve been saving your ass since the day I saw you hiding under that table. If I wasn’t in that alley, who knows what those college pricks would’ve done to you. Taking you from Mick, taking you off the streets, all of it.” He waves his hand in front of his face as he continues to justify his actions. “I don’t know what else you want from me,” he mumbles, his head hung low.
“Knowing the truth, knowing that my mother is really dead – it hurts.” I sob.
He grabs me by the shoulder and pulls me into him, hugging me. His arms are strong as he cocoons me into his taut chest.
“I just can’t believe you somehow made it back to me,” he mutters into the top of my head. “I went back when I could, but you were already gone.”
I close my eyes and fist his shirt, images of cops and first responders popping behind my eyelids. The looks on their faces when they found me under that table. How I wouldn’t talk to any of them, or let them touch me. The ride in the back of an ambulance with a gray wool blanket wrapped around me as they took me to the hospital, and eventually to the psych ward. I open my eyes, and I can’t decide if I’m angry, hurt, or grateful. I have a right to all of those feelings, but they’re all swirling inside of me at the same time, making me feel dizzy.
“Talk to me, Charlie,” Landon whispers, sweeping his hands along my back.
“I—” I choke. I’m not sure how I feel, or what I think.
He edges back, looking at me with concerned eyes. I look in his eyes, tears running down my cheeks.
“This is too much for one day. Let’s get you in bed.” He grabs the bottom hem of my shirt.
“No!” I yell, shoving his hands off me. I’m done feeling sorry for myself, for my life, for everything. “You killed my mother, Landon!” Without thinking, I raise my hand and slap him across the face. Anger, sorrow, and vengeance all being released as my palm stings. His head whips to the side. His jaw ticks as his cheek fumes a red hand print. He slowly slides his gaze back to me, his eyes burning with fury. I swallow the unease forming in the pit of my stomach and point at him with rage. “One day you’re loving and the next I find out you’re a murderer! How do I know you won’t do as your father orders and kill me?” I tilt my head to the side, and glare with all my might. “Tell me how I’m supposed to trust you?” I whisper. “How am I supposed to trust the man who has my mother’s blood on his hands?”
Just as Landon opens his mouth to respond, a loud crash sounds from downstairs. My chest constricts with fear, and Landon’s face hardens. He puts his finger over his lips, silently gesturing for me to be quiet. I nod, my nostrils flaring from my harsh breathing. He slowly walks to the dresser, and carefully pulls open a drawer. He clutches a shiny black gun and I cover my mouth with my hands. How many guns does he have? He points toward the bathroom. I nod and scamper to the bathroom. I peer my head around the doorframe watching as Landon slides up against the wall and peeks around the corner into the hallway. In one swift moment, he vanishes. My stomach sinks not having him in the room with me anymore. What if the intruder comes in here? What if they were sent from Landon’s father? Sweat builds on my forehead as the minutes tick by. The silence is so loud my ears ring, and images of my mother hushing me and urging me to hide wobble in my mind. I clench my eyes as hard as I can to clear the memories, and shake my head. I can’t just stay in the bathroom and hide. I have to do something to help Landon.
“Landon!” I whisper loudly. My hands tremble at the thought of something happening to him.
I tiptoe out of the dark bathroom into the bedroom, I take a step toward the dresser when something catches my eye near the door. I choke with fear. A large person dressed in black from head to toe and pointing a silver gun at me stands right before me. I open my mouth to scream but nothing comes out. This is it, this is the end of my shitty life. I’m going to die. Landon steps behind the intruder, his gun raised and fires. I cover my ears and wince from the loud bang. Blood scatters along the floor and the person falls on his face. I glance from the dead body to Landon, and sag with relief.
“Landon!” I cry, emotion bubbling in my chest that he’s okay. He steps over the body and wraps an arm around my frame hugging me. All the anger and resentment I may have had flees my body. If Landon wanted to hurt me, if he was anything like his father, he would have let me die tonight.
“Are you okay, babe?” He looks me over. His tone’s sincere as he searches my body for injury.
“Yeah, you came just in time,” I whisper. “You—”
“Saved you?” Landon finishes my sentence and raises an eyebrow. “I told you the day I took you back to that hotel room, I wouldn’t hurt you. I meant it.” His tone is dry, and has me swallowing the lump in my throat. “I was sixteen when I killed your mother for Christ’s sake. I was a damn child and did what I thought was right. I saved you.” I stand in awe. Landon has saved me since I was a nine-year-old little girl.
“You…” I whisper. “You’re right. You saved me,” I admit. Landon’s hard face and tense body relaxes instantly, his face taking on a softer look as he frowns. Landon may have killed my mother, but he did it to save me. He just saved my life again. Landon leans down, and pushes the black ski mask to the person’s forehead.
Judging my tonight’s events, I know Landon is not innocent in any way, but I can tell by the pain in his voice that he did not want to harm my mother. He was merely a child doing what he thought was right at the time. I bet if he defied his father in any way that day my mother died, Miller would have killed Landon too.
“Niko,” Landon mutters. “I knew it would be him. He’s the only person that knows about this place.” Landon stands and places his gun on the dresser. The dead guy looks about Landon’s age. His face is pale with bright freckles along the bridge of his nose.
“Will there be others?” I question.
“Possibly, but I doubt it. The only reason Niko knows about this house is because he was with me when I got the keys from the real estate agent. Niko and I used to hang out a lot when we were younger. He became caught up with my dad over the last couple of years. When he heard I was not on my father’s side, he went on his way. Looks like he went right into my father’s pocket.”
An hour and a half later, the room is cleaned of Niko and any trace of blood. The way Landon cleaned any trace of DNA is almost terrifying.
“Where did you put him?” I question, sitting on the edge of the bed.
“In the ground,” Landon replies quickly.
I bite my bottom lip, and nod.
“Let’s try and get some sleep. I fixed the door Niko kicked in and set the alarms this time, they will sound if anyone so much as steps on the front step.”
I stand to take my shirt off that has some spots of blood
on it. Lifting the shirt over my head, Landon’s fingers trail under the cup of my sports bra, his touch tickling my skin, reminding me I’m alive. He tugs the fabric, pulling it off me, my nipples peaking when the sudden fresh air sweeps past them. My eyes flicker to Landon’s, finding his hooded as he stares at my small breasts.
He grabs the back of his shirt and yanks it over his head, revealing his toned abs and that sexy V leading down into his pants. My gaze catches the square white patch on his chest from where I shot him. I tuck my bottom lip between my teeth and trail my finger over the cotton patch.
“It was an accident,” I whisper, my eyes peering up from under my lashes.
“I’ll live,” he responds, his tone raw.
He unbuttons his jeans and shuffles them down using his feet before tossing them in the corner. I can’t help but take in every inch of him as he stands in his black Calvin Klein’s. I crawl in bed, and shift to get comfortable on my side of the bed. I instantly feel my eyes grow heavy. Landon tucks his hand around my hip, trying to tug me closer to him but I pull away. I just need a moment to myself to comprehend what’s going on in my head. But he isn’t having it. He grabs me by the hips and pulls me toward him, tucking me into the curve of his body, the smell and heat sweeps from his to mine. His fingers trail up and down my spine tenderly.
“You know how I said I saved you?” His chest vibrates against mine as he speaks. “Well, you saved me, too.” I tilt my head back and look at him in confusion. He stares down at me, his eyes full of sincerity.
“If it weren’t for you or your mother, I would have become my father. I would have followed in his footsteps and been a monster. But after what I did, after saving you, I wanted nothing to do with the Blackwell estate.”
I sigh and tuck myself into him once again. Hearing my mother’s life wasn’t in vain, that it had impacted his life, offers me a slither of relief.
“You saved me, too,” he repeats softly into my hair. I close my eyes and let my dreams take me.
***
I wake with a start, lightning cracking in the sky and illuminating the bedroom. My eyes fall on Landon who is fast asleep, his chest slowly rising with every breath. I lie back down and watch him. His face seems so soft and at peace as he sleeps. His closed eyelids twitch, making me wonder what he’s dreaming about. I know I was troubled, had a shitty life growing up, but he killed someone at the age of sixteen. I can’t imagine how that would stain a person’s soul. His eyes suddenly open as he gasps for air. I jump, startled by his sudden reaction.
He places his hand to his chest, panting for breath.
“Are you okay?” I whisper, lying next to him. He nods and swallows.
“Bad dream?” I question, propping my head on my hand.
He turns and fluffs his pillow under him.
“Yeah,” he mutters.
“I get them all the time,” I reply, searching his face in the dark.
“Oh, yeah? What about?” His forehead wrinkles with question.
“Wings. Your wings, to be exact. But you have a white feather on your tattoo. The white feather’s not on the wings in my dreams.”
Landon tucks a hair behind my ear. “That’s because I got it after that day. It represents you.”
“Why me?” I narrow my brows in confusion.
“I got the black wings to represent my imperfections. A symbol of my ominous ways as a Blackwell. A rogue son going against God and turning into something powerful and dark. But after I saved a little girl, I realized I didn’t want to be the villain; I wanted to be the hero. That white feather reminds me that something good resides within me. I’m not my father one-hundred percent.”
I can’t help the throb between my legs, knowing I impacted Landon’s life so much he got a tattoo representing me.
“How are you feeling?” he questions, his voice muffled with sleep. I wince, taken back by his question.
“Um, fine, I guess.” I shrug to emphasize my words. “My mind is still wrapping around everything, but I’ll live.”
“There’s something I need to tell you.” He sits up, bending his knees and resting his elbows on them, tangling his hands in his hair.
I sit up as well, nervous as to what’s about to come from his mouth. Just the way he’s acting tells me it’s going to be bad.
“I got the paperwork from your blood work.” He turns his head, his fingers still in his hair. “Have you slept with anyone without protection since we met?”
“No.” I shake my head slowly, my heart picking up its pace.
He takes in a sudden breath and blows out a long exhale.
“The results said you’re pregnant, Charlie.”
Adrenaline spikes in my chest, and my heart feels like it stopped beating. My body heats to an inferno and my brain becomes mush.
“Wh- what?” I stutter, blinking rapidly, hoping one of the times I open my eyes I’ll wake from this dream. Landon untangles his fingers from his hair and grabs me by the arm, yanking me into him. He places me between his legs and pulls my back onto his chest.
“You’re pregnant. You’re carrying my child inside you,” he whispers, trailing his hands down my arms and to my abdomen, laying claim on my stomach.
My lips part with disbelief. I’m carrying a Blackwell inside me. A Blackwell and an Evans, two feuding households, and they’ve joined together to make one little heartbeat.
“Are you sure I’m pregnant?” I tilt my head up, not sure what the doctor has told him exactly, what the paperwork entailed. Could it be a mistake?
He runs his hand through his hair and clenches his jaw.
“I have some pregnancy tests in the car, just to make—”
“Get them,” I interrupt, pulling from his lap. I need to know for sure. I can’t be a mother. I can’t even take care of myself.
When he heads out, I move toward a door and feel along the wall for a light switch, turning it on to find a large bathroom. A glass shower and a tub, which could hold at least five people, fill the room, but all I’m looking for is a toilet right now. Stepping toward it, the corner of my eye catches my reflection and I stop. I look a mess. My hair is mussed, and I have tan lines claiming my skin. I turn and look at my stomach, which still looks the same – flat. My boobs are still small. Aren’t you supposed to get big boobs when you’re pregnant?
“Here we go.” Landon sets a glass of water on the counter as he empties a plastic bag. Four boxes of pregnancy tests scatter along the surface, all a different brand. I grab a box and tear it open with my teeth, ready for answers.
I sit on the toilet and pull a pink cap off one, a cotton swab sticking out from the end of the stick. I’m assuming I piss on this end. I shove it between my legs and catch Landon leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.
“Are you just going to stand there while I pee?” I ask, suddenly feeling shy.
“Yeah, why not?” He shrugs, the muscles in his arms rippling as he chuckles.
“I can’t pee with you standing there,” I interject, scowling at him. He pushes off the doorframe and untucks one arm, turning on the faucet before leaning back against the doorframe.
I shake my head and try to concentrate. Who knew peeing would require so much focus? Listening to the water in the sink, I finally relax and pee.
I pee on all of the sticks, and now Landon and I are hovering over them as they sit on the bathroom counter. One finally shows a plus sign, the others slowly following suit. They all show positive, some lighter than others. I grip the counter and close my eyes. It’s for sure. I’m pregnant.
“I can’t even take care of myself.” I choke with emotion, looking at the tests.
“I’m here, Charlie. You’ll never struggle again. You’re mine, and I told you that you’d never be alone again.” He steps behind me and nips the top of my shoulder.
“Is this why you saved me? ‘Cause I have your child in me?” I question, looking at his reflection in the mirror.
“No,” he blurts quickly. “I
saved you because I love you. Because you’re mine and that baby is mine. I will protect what’s mine, and I’ll kill whoever steps in front of that.”
He loves me? I want to respond, but I can’t. I’m in shock, and I want to be sure I truly love Landon when I say it. I don’t want to think I love him, or might love him. I want to know that the ache in my chest and the lust in my body is because I undeniably love him.
“Let’s feed you. I know you haven’t eaten.” He grabs my hand and pulls me from the pee sticks on the counter. It doesn’t seem to bother him that I didn’t say ‘I love you’ back, which is a relief. I can’t dive into that right now.
“I’m not hungry, really,” I protest, trying to head back toward the bed. He turns his face hard, his jaw defined in tension.
“You will eat, damn it. Starving yourself is not an option, so go get a shower, and I’ll meet you in the kitchen, Charlie. End of.” His tone is so brutally harsh it has my eyes wide. Gone with the sentimental shit and back with full-force Landon Blackwell. As he strides out of the room, those ominous wings with the one white feather stand out against his golden skin. His back is ripped with muscles. The wings don’t scare me nearly as before, not now that I know what the white little feather stands for: redemption.
TWENTY-THREE
CHARLIE
I look at the fresh fruit sliced perfectly into a glass bowl, and my mouth waters for it. I grab a piece of watermelon and take a bite, its juices running along my chin and down onto the counter. Landon chuckles, making me look at him. A piece of me deep down hates the fact that Landon killed my mother, but I know he did it for me. I love him, regardless of any of it. I know that without a doubt now. If I didn’t love him, it would be easier to walk away, to fight him. However, that is the current situation. I love him, and the heart wants what the heart wants.