The Redemption of Nixon Thorne

by T Steele

  When my father had found out about his sister and what had really happened to her, it was like taping his heart back together only to rip it apart again. We went to that lake, and detectives found her body. It was all thanks to Nixon, who paid for a discrete detective. He’d said he wanted to help, and even though my mom, dad, and I all protested, Nixon had persisted.

  Roxanne Black’s body had been found and finally laid to rest. We’d gotten our closure in the most bittersweet of ways.

  Nixon and I have been going to counseling. It was something my mom had suggested, and I was in denial at first. I had only just told my parents. I really didn’t want to tell anyone else, but my mom had kept pushing it, and when I brought it up to Nixon, I was surprised when he’d offered to go too.

  He’d told me about his anger management classes he used to have to attend while he was on probation. Where he’d eventually admitted to how much it had helped him even if he hated it.

  But, we promised each other that we could only go up from here and that bettering ourselves could only better each other, and it has.

  Waverly walks into the dorm to find me practicing my flute. I have a solo coming up with the Oregon Wind Ensemble. If I do well, I’ll be able to go on tour with them, performing at concerts, which is a huge deal for me. I would love to one day use my music degree to become the marching band director of the University of Oregon marching band. Regardless of the rough start I’ve had at the school, it’s the place I fell in love with Nixon, and I love it here.

  “Practicing for your skin flute skills for Nixon later?” she asks, moving her hands as if she’s holding a flute, and wagging her brows suggestively and I laugh, rolling my eyes.

  “That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said.”

  “Well, even I can break records sometimes. Give it time, and I will probably say something even dumber tomorrow.”

  I snicker. Waverly and I have grown closer now that she knows of my past and the horrible things that have happened. I’d felt bad for lying in the beginning, but she took the news amazingly well and was supportive throughout the entire thing. She and Nixon now even have an odd brother/sister relationship going on. I’d even gotten a text the other day from Nixon, saying: “Please put Waverly’s hand in water tonight to see if she pisses herself. I’ll love you even more if you do it—this is my revenge for her taking the last egg roll the other night.”

  And when Jake was around, it was even more entertaining watching him and Waverly interact. They were total opposites and loved to aggravate each other at every opportunity.

  “Nixon wants you to meet him at Tamolitch,” she says.

  “What?” I ask, checking my phone. “Why wouldn’t he just text me and tell me?”

  “I don’t know. You know he’s freaking weird. He’s probably got some prank planned for me, and that’s why he wants me to go.” She shudders. “I’m still having nightmares from the yoga incident.”

  I purse my lips together, trying not to burst into hysterical laughter.

  Long story short, Nixon had managed to get Waverly stuck in a trash can while she was finding her “zen” and getting her yoga on.

  “Okay, okay,” I say, putting my flute in its case and following her out the door.

  We scream out Harry Styles songs on the drive over, breaking out our most special dance moves that we only save for each other.

  When we pull into the parking lot, the ranger station comes into view, and I see Nixon’s truck, but not him anywhere.

  I turn to look at Waverly and she’s looking at me expectantly. “Alright, I’ll see you later,” she says.

  “Wow, thanks, okay. I’m on my merry way, don’t hurt yourself with niceties.”

  “I won't,” she smiles cheekily.

  I laugh, shaking my head, and exit the car.

  I take the trail to Tamolitch, wondering why Nixon wouldn’t have met me in the parking lot. I’m actually getting a little nervous. Waverly thought he was going to prank her, but will he prank me instead? Anticipation coils inside me, wondering what he could possibly have planned for us in such a private area. My lady parts clench in excitement. In the past months, we’ve barely been able to keep our hands off of each other. Making love every chance we get, spending every waking minute that we could with each other, and I keep wondering if he’s going to ask me to move in with him. I know it’s fast, but when you know, you know. And I, one hundred percent know, that Nixon is it for me. Always will be.

  The waterfall comes into my line of sight, and of course, I walk up to the beautiful body of water. It’s almost as if I have to, like it’s calling to me. No matter how many times I’ve seen it, it’s beauty never fades and never fails to amaze me.

  I feel a tap on my shoulder, and I gasp, turning around to find Nixon smiling widely at me.

  “You scared me,” I say breathlessly.

  “You dropped something,” he says, nodding his head towards the ground.

  I look down to see a small velvet box, and I gasp again, my heart constricting, knowing what’s in there, but still not wanting to get my hopes up too high. Suddenly, I’m taken back in time to another place when I’d muttered the same words to him, and my eyes fill with tears.

  Nixon gets down on one knee. “I’ll get it for you,” he whispers, picking it up and holding it out to me in the stereotypical gesture of a man proposing.

  He’s wearing a suit and everything, and I lick my lips. I’ve never seen him all dressed up like this, without his ripped black jeans or regular t-shirt. He looks sweet, handsome, and boyish, and I want to lick him everywhere, but then he opens the box. My eyes widen at the beautiful solitaire diamond centered in the white gold ring.

  “Ella,” he says, his voice cracking, and he clears his throat. “I’ve never had anything that I could look forward to. Never had anyone who saw me for me and accepted me for exactly as I was. But I look forward to seeing you every single day, even the bad days. I want it all with you, Ella. The bad, the complications, the sad days because even one bad day with you is better than my happiest day without you. You’re beautiful, inside and out, and you make me a better person every single day. When I say I need you, I'm not lying. You're a vital part of me now. Without you, it wouldn’t be like just losing a limb, it’d be like dying because you’ve become my entire world. I love you so much. Now, I ask you—will you make me the luckiest man in the world and marry me?”

  I fall to my knees with him, wrapping my arms around his neck, tears racing down my cheeks.

  “Is that a yes?” he murmurs into my hair, breathing deeply.

  I hold onto him tightly. “Yes! Of course. A million times yes!”

  “Not a billion?” he asks, but I hear the relief in his tone as if he thought I’d say no.

  I pull back, kissing him all over his face. “Yes, a billion. A billion times infinity and much much more.”

  “Surprise!”

  “Ah!” I scream when Waverly jumps out from behind a tree.

  I scowl at her as she laughs so hard that she squats, putting her hands to her knees. Like she can’t even hold herself up.

  “I may have had Waverly hiding to record it all,” Nixon mutters, giving me a sheepish smile.

  When I stare into Nixon’s eyes, and he has one of the softest expressions I’ve ever seen on his face, I smile, and then we start to laugh.

  And I think I just might burst with joy and happiness as we sit in the grass together at one of the most beautiful places, ready to start a sacred new beginning together.

  Epilogue Nixon

  4 years later

  “You ready, son?” Ella’s father, Tom, asks.

  I stand, buttoning the last of my cufflinks. “Is anyone ever ready for their wedding day?” I ask, trying to come off as aloof, but I’m nervous as fuck inside.

  He sees right through my bullshit, grinning mischievously. “No, but it’ll be worth it once you see her walk down the aisle.”

  I nod, and he claps me on the back. “You’
ll be a great husband, Nix. It’s the only reason I’m allowing you to marry my daughter.”

  “I would never hurt her,” I say, looking him in the eye and reassuring him at the same time.

  “I know, son.”

  Then, he wraps me in one of those guy hugs where we both pat each other on the back forcefully, trying to pretend everything is okay and that we don’t have emotions.

  We pull away, not looking each other in the eye, and then he says, “I’m going to go check on Ella now; I’ll see you out there.” And then I’m left alone, staring at myself in the mirror.

  My tux is all black, with one pink lily at the breast pocket. I’d gelled my hair back so that it wouldn’t be hanging in my face, and I actually don’t look like an ex-con for once. More like an adult who has his shit together, and I can only hope Ella sees the same thing. It’d be a shame if she’d realized now that I wasn’t good enough for her.

  No, I scold myself. None of this self-deprecating shit today. Today is the day that my woman will officially be made mine, and I know I’ll probably die of cardiac arrest soon, seeing her in her wedding dress, so I better enjoy my last minutes as happily as possible. But then Jake comes in, telling me I need to get out there. It’s time for me to wait for my bride. Jake is the officiant, and yeah, I know it’s not ideal, but Ella, being the angel that she is, took pity on him when he was having a rough time. So when he’d asked, she’d said yes, and who was I to deny my bride of anything? So here we are, me in my groom tux and Jake dressed like a preacher even though he’s the furthest thing from it.

  He puts his blunt out in an ashtray. “Sorry, last one for today. Don’t want people thinking their preacher is high.”

  “They won’t think. They’ll know because you are,” I say, but I’m just talking to talk at this point.

  We walk through the hallways that are connected to my room. Our ceremony is happening at a place called The Boat House. It’s a classy restaurant on the inside with a beautiful back deck looking over The Hood River on the outside.

  When Jake opens the door, we step outside, and my heart gets lodged in my throat. This is happening, I think to myself, nervously.

  The sky is the color of Ella’s eyes, and everything else is pink. Flowers, ribbons, jewels, it’s everywhere, lining the wooden beams of the deck. Leading me to an arch that overlooks the river and the mountains.

  Our closest family and friends are seated throughout in white chairs, the sound of sniffling could already be heard.

  Already crying, really? But then I look up and realize it’s my mom, and blow out a sigh. The ceremony should be fun, I think to myself.

  I stand at the end of the altar, waiting for my bride to appear. I’m nervous as fuck, and also dealing with the shock that I’ve actually made it to this place.

  Thinking of how far we’ve come, this doesn’t even seem real. It’s like some out of reach dream, but it is real and it’s happening, and I feel like a girl for thinking it, but it really is like a fairytale that’s come true.

  My three groomsmen come out with Ella’s bridesmaids. Two of them are friends I’ve met now that I’ve become a professional MMA fighter, and the other is my tattoo artist who, yes, I did meet in prison, but he’s a genuine friend, and I trust him.

  Ella’s maid of honor is Waverly, naturally, and she sticks her tongue out at me as she takes her place off to the side. The other two women are her cousins, I’ve only met once or twice. And then there’s music playing, and I rub my sweaty palms on my pants before clenching them into fists.

  Then Ella comes into view, and I didn’t think she could ever be more beautiful, but she is like the sun. Radiant, glowing, bright. I feel like I can’t look directly at her. Like I’m not worthy. Like I need to drop to my knees and bow.

  Her eyes meet mine, and they’re shining with unshed tears, but the good kind and she smiles. I smile back at her, the air nearly leaving my lungs. Tom walks beside her, looking like he’s about to lose it at any moment, and then I glance at both our mothers sitting in the crowd, and they’re both sobbing. I let out a deep breath, looking to the sky before returning my focus back to Ella.

  She finally reaches my side, and I rock on the balls of my feet, almost going to her immediately and bringing her to my side.

  The preacher asks who is giving her away, and her father answers, “Her mother and I.”

  And then her hand is reaching for mine and I grab it, giving a firm squeeze. And she gives a wobbly smile, understanding my need to affirm this is real and it’s happening.

  She squeezes back, and Jake is talking, starting the ceremony. We say our vows, but I can’t look away from Ella’s eyes. It was always her eyes that held me down and pushed me to be better. Grounding me.

  When Jake finally speaks the words I’ve been waiting for: “You may now kiss the bride.”

  I wrap one hand around her waist while the other cradles her head, and I dip her low, kissing her lips hard.

  The crowd applauds, happy cheers rising in the air.

  When I stand us straight again, pulling away, Ella is smiling so wide that I can’t help but kiss her again.

  Then Jake’s steady voice calls out, “Ladies and gentlemen! I now present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Nixon Thorne.”

  Everyone claps again, letting confetti burst through the air, and Ella raises our hands together, like the way they do for me at the end of one of my fights and I realize this is similar in a way; after everything we’ve been through, we’ve finally won. Finally come out on top. Together.

  We walk back down the aisle and then meet everyone at the reception. The whole night passes in a blur.

  I dance with my mom, and Ella dances with her dad.

  “I’m so proud of you, baby,” my mom whispers to me.

  “Thanks, Mom.” I smile at her.

  I glance over at Ella, and the smile she gives her father is so wide that a piece of my little black heart stutters and skips.

  Next, we eat cake, which Ella dutifully smashes into my face, and I return the favor. And then lick it off her, of course, causing everyone to applaud and whistle.

  The entire night all I can think about is getting my wife home and getting her naked before we head to our honeymoon tomorrow. By the heated looks she keeps giving me, I’d wager she’s feeling the same way.

  I see her dancing with Waverly, drink in hand, her hips swaying sensually, and I have to adjust my pants. My cock is ready for her. To claim her tonight as my wife. The thought is enough to make me want to jump up, throw her over my shoulder, and occupy one of the restrooms for a bit.

  Suddenly, Ella locks eyes with me, and she grins naughtily. I give her a look as if to say, “don’t fucking tempt me right now because I will throw you over my shoulder”, and then she moves her finger in a come hither movement. I spring to my feet, making my way over to her. It’s not like I haven’t been far from her side at all tonight, but I at least wanted her to have some fun with her girlfriends before I have her all to myself.

  I’m at her side, wrapping my arms around her hips and moving with her to the beat of the music. I can’t dance for shit, but I know how to keep up with the movements of Ella’s hips. My eyes drink her in, absorbing every detail of her on this night. The way she looks in her dress, the way her eyes shine every time she looks at me, but most importantly, her happiness.

  I lean forward, whispering in her ear. “Are you ready to leave, wife?” I ask, and her eyes flare at the words. “I’d really like to make you cum in this wedding dress.”

  She makes a soft noise of approval and then whispers back to me. “Only if I can make you cum first, husband.”

  “Fuck,” I say, and then clear my throat so that I don’t make a total fool of myself in front of all our family and friends.

  “Say bye to everyone?” she asks quickly.

  “Do we have to say goodbye?” I ask, pouting. “Can’t we just leave?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Come on, we have to at least say goodbye to the parents.�
��

  I groan and follow her.

  We quickly say goodbye to our parents and closest friends. Then right before we walk out the door, I see Waverly wagging her brows suggestively and giving me a thumbs up. I return the gesture and she laughs.

  When we step outside, there’s a limo waiting to take us to our new house that we just purchased together. With Ella being the band director of the University of Oregon’s marching band and me being a professional MMA fighter, we don’t lack for money. I could finally provide for all the people I loved.

  I opened the door for her and helped her inside before climbing in after her. Champagne and strawberries are waiting for us, and I pour us each a glass before handing her one. We clink them together in a silent toast, then both down them in one long swig and laugh together. I reach for a strawberry and hold it out for her. She bites into it and I watch her mouth work, thinking of all the ways she’s about to use that mouth. She licks her lips slowly, and I kiss her, my tongue swiping over her bottom lip, tasting the sweetness of her and the dessert.

  The ride seems to last an eternity before we finally make it to our home.

  Our home. Words that still don’t seem real to me.

  The house is a beautiful white Cape Cod with a loft overlooking the whole house. It’s filled with instruments, and workout equipment, books and paintings, and everything that makes it us. Practical. Eccentric. Messy. Clean.