Everlasting Love

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Everlasting Love Page 6

by M. S. Brannon


  “The bar is taken care of.”

  “What? You sold the bar?”

  “Gavin and Big Mike were thinking of quitting to start-up their own. I basically told them they could buy the business from us. They were approved for a loan, so now, all we have to do is finish the paperwork, and then it’s done.”

  I shake my head, thinking this is absurd. “Okay, well, what the hell do we do with the house? It’s not like there’s much of a market on the Southside.”

  “Give it to one of your brothers,” Darcie says very matter-of-factly.

  “What about our family? We just up and leave them? I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because they’re our family, Darcie! I’m not just leaving them behind.” How could I leave them? We’ve been together since the beginning. I don’t think I have it in me to up and leave them.

  “You don’t owe them anything, Reggie. Don’t you think you’ve scarified enough of your life raising and caring for them? They’re grown men with families of their own. It’s time to cut the cord and move on. It’s time for us to be a family.”

  She grabs my hand and pleads with me to understand. “You’ve always put their wellbeing ahead of your own. You’ve always handled everything. From raising them when you were just a child yourself to Presley’s funeral, Jake’s antics, and Jeremy’s incarceration, in one way or another, you’ve put all of that ahead of your own happiness.”

  “Don’t forget you, angel. I’ve put you ahead of everything in my life, too,” I snap back, not wanting her to forget just how much I’ve sacrificed for her, as well.

  “Well, then, I’m going to be selfish and ask you to do it again. I’m going to ask you to put our life ahead of everything else and tell you to come with me.” As she steps to me then wraps her arms around my neck, I lean down and kiss her lips.

  Breaking the kiss, I place my forehead to hers and really think about what she is asking me to do.

  My wife is right. I’ve put all of their needs, including hers, above my own. Yes, I have wondered what it would be like to simply move through life and have a little piece of normal, not to be tied up in knots with stress over the bar or my brothers and everything in between. When Darcie and I first got together, I would lie in bed and think about taking my family away from Michigan. We’d go somewhere warm. I’d walk out of our small, Cape Cod style home and head to the beach. There I’d find my wife sitting on a chair, reading and soaking up the sun.

  However, then I always came back to my brothers, knowing I couldn’t totally uproot their lives. Or maybe I was wrong. Maybe I should have moved because of what Jeremy was dealing with. If I would have seen the signs, I could have prevented him from getting involved with the Rykers and becoming what he did. I simply didn’t see it.

  Before my thoughts would get carried away, I always thought of the twins just graduating from high school and Drake with a couple of years to go. As time went on, Presley sunk into her depression, and then she was murdered. I couldn’t possibly consider up and leaving then.

  When Jeremy got arrested and Jake started up his shop, the mere thought of moving across town was a distant memory. I couldn’t ask them to leave, and I couldn’t just leave them behind. I needed to be here for my family. Through thick and thin, my brothers needed me. But is that still the case? Is Darcie right?

  They are grown men, with families of their own to raise. Why do I need to be here to help them? My family has always surrounded me. I’ve been their protector, counselor, and leader. I was forced to be strong for them, but now, it’s my time to be strong for myself.

  Suddenly, the answer comes to me and becomes as obvious as a flashing neon sign. My brothers need to be here to take care of their families, and I need to do the same. Darcie is my wife; she is my family, too. It’s my job to take care of her, and if this is what she truly needs to be at ease, then I need to make that happen. The answer is easy. I will move on, and I will do it with my wife by my side.

  I pull my forehead away from hers to study her breathtaking face. She’s incredibly beautiful. Although most may see the scars covering her arms, legs, back, and torso as flaws, I think they are what make her perfect. She is someone who doesn’t give up, which she is proving now by refusing to give up on our future and us.

  I run my hand up her arm and lean in, kissing her scarred shoulder, before I trail my hand up to the curvature of her jaw, holding her face. I look up into her electrifying, green eyes and say, “I love you, angel.” I kiss her soft, supple lips and connect my gaze back to hers. “And, if you want to go, if that’s what you really want, then let’s go.”

  “No, this can’t be for me, Reggie. It has to be for us.”

  “And that’s what it will be for—for us, angel.”

  This standard size envelope feels like it weighs close to a thousand pounds. I hold the paper in my hand, debating if I should open it. Inside this officially sealed pocket holds the answer I’ve been waiting on for the last five years. It’s been the topic of discussion with Amos, my parole officer, for the last six meetings, yet it never felt real until I opened the mailbox and read State of Michigan Department of Corrections on the envelope. Inside, a stupid piece of paper holds my fate. I’m scared as hell to open it.

  I walk up the driveway, freeze, and then turn to my challenger. The decision inside this envelope will determine if I can load my family in this car and head anywhere for a better life, one where my son won’t grow up surrounded by violence and drugs, a place where I can really begin to breathe and finally start to shed the last of my former self.

  It hasn’t been easy getting rid of the hate living inside of me. Although Drake and I made amends, and for the most part, life is pretty great, I still find myself getting really angry at times. Not toward any one in my family or around my family, but at the things that happen in this god-awful town.

  I have witnessed Sulfur Heights at its finest when I see drug deals occurring or watching someone get mugged. I was pissed seeing it happen, and then I was pissed at myself because I didn’t do anything to stop it. What was I supposed to do? If I even tried to intervene, I would be taking a major risk. Risking my freedom and my family is not something I want to do again, yet the very sight of my old life angers me. I see pieces of my former life thriving around every street corner. However, nothing enrages me more than when I see my old operation.

  Tank and Victor are still running the underworld after Matt Ryker chose to leave it all behind. Lately, they’ve been making it a point to be around.

  Initially, I found it a coincidence Tank would be gassing up his truck the same time I’d be there. After that, I always felt like I was being followed. Then, a month later, Victor came to the shop to have his car worked on. He knew there was nothing I could do or say to him without letting everyone else in the shop know my business; therefore, I was forced to sit and deal with his presence. It was all I could do to hold it together.

  After he left, I went out back and began beating the shit out of the shed. I didn’t know what else to do with myself. I could feel the rage building; trying to control me, and I had to let it out. I knew what happened to me when I bottled my feelings—I become so overwhelmed I snap. I knew I needed to expel it, and that was what I did.

  Yet, even today, I can’t shake the gut feeling that I’m still being watched.

  It’s been over five years since I walked from Ionia and stepped back into Sulfur Heights. In those five years, I can feel my freedom slipping moment-by-moment, day-by-day. As each month goes by, I struggle with living here and being anywhere close to the underworld. Nothing has proven this more than dealing with my raging emotions when Reggie was shot. The events surrounding that night still blow my mind and prove life can totally fuck with you when you least expect it.

  We all had a great night, laughing, drinking, and simply doing what the Evans family does best. I was the designated driver for the rest of them. When we left, all except Reggie and Darcie piled in my Challenge
r like we did when we were teenagers.

  An hour later, I heard Drake screaming in the phone and sirens blaring in the background. I knew instantly something was horribly wrong. Then he told me.

  Reggie was dying of a gunshot wound, and Grady McGuire was lying dead on the floor of the bar. Worry came over me as Cami and I raced to the hospital, but after sitting in that hospital waiting room for hours, I couldn’t shut my mind off. I started thinking about Carter and the hell he put our family through. I was transported back to the night Darcie was terrorized by Grady. Seeing that smug fucker’s face in my mind, my sense was completely obliterated.

  I blasted out of the waiting room, on a mission to hurt someone. I didn’t care whom. It didn’t matter. As long as they were as horrible as Grady, their life belonged to me.

  It had been years since I allowed myself to fully switch over to my monstrous persona, but I couldn’t think about anything else. When I made it to the parking lot, Jake and Drake were right behind me.

  It took me a couple of days to recall the conversation we had because I was out of my mind, but Drake helped fill me in on my actions that night, and then it all came back.

  “Where you going, man?” Jake shouted to my back. I said nothing. I wasn’t going to tell them anything. All I needed to do was get the fuck away from that place and destroy something. Then he moved to my front and blocked me from leaving. “Stop!”

  “Leave me alone, Jake.” My voice was unrecognizable as I hardened my stance and attempted to reign in all my anger. “I’m warning you. I need to be left alone right now.”

  “We aren’t going anywhere, bro. You need to calm the fuck down,” Jake said. I immediately balled up my fist, readying myself to fight him. “What are you going to do? Go out there, fuck someone up, and get locked up again? Is that what you’re going to do?”

  “Think about your son, Jeremy,” Drake stepped in and confronted me. “Think about how your actions will affect him or your pregnant wife. Do you really think she wants to raise another baby on her own?”

  Something must have dawned on me because we didn’t have to discuss what happened after that.

  When I went back into the hospital waiting room, I knew everything was going to be okay. The moment I saw Cami and looked at her stomach, I knew I couldn’t do anything stupid to fuck up what we have. I’d rather kill myself than go back to I-Max. Besides, I couldn’t live with myself knowing Cami had to raise our unborn child alone, just as she had with Hunter. And Hunter, I couldn’t allow him to be raised without a daddy. I was close to his age when my dad died. I wouldn’t be responsible for that kind of grief in his life.

  As I make my way into the house, I realize I cannot open this letter without Cami by my side. She is one of the stable parts of my life, and I need her to either celebrate with or to calm me down when my dreams are shattered.

  As I step through the kitchen door, I clutch the envelope in my hand and decide to toss it on the table. I can open it tonight after we put Hunter to bed, or maybe I’ll open it tomorrow, or two weeks from now. I don’t know when I will have the balls to open the letter. I don’t even know why I am questioning this.

  I’ve abided by the rules set by the parole board. Amos and I have established a friendship over the last five years, and he’s said many times how proud he is of me. He is impressed with how I’ve stayed away from the underworld when so many like me can’t seem to do it. Something always triggers them to go back. That’s why I shouldn’t be questioning this.

  However, Amos expected this letter to come months ago; as a result, maybe this is why I am so worried to open it. I can’t remember the last time I felt like life was going good. Since I’ve been released from I-Max, I have never been so grateful. So, will this letter be the end of the rope for me? Has my winning streak finally ended? Will my life now be on a crash course with hell?

  I can’t think of this shit any longer.

  I open up the fridge and start getting something fixed for dinner. When my wife comes home, she and my son will be starving. Both are growing, and both have an outrageous appetite.

  While I pull some hamburger from the freezer and begin the defrost process, I make my mind shift to the positive. I get things going making spaghetti and think about how wonderful I truly have it.

  Once I settled into a routine of living with my wife and son, Cami was able to go back to school to become an ER nurse. I took care of the bills by working at the shop and getting a side job helping Reggie with crowd control at the bar. It’s funny, the reputation I have as a convicted felon. There were many rumors surrounding why I was in jail, and most of them started with a shred of the truth then became outlandish the longer they went on. However, no one approached my brothers or me once I was released. No one was brave enough to ask for the truth. I wouldn’t have told them anyway. They simply left it alone and gossiped about it like a bunch of teenaged girls.

  Once Cami graduated from school, she quickly secured a job as an RN, and I had to let go of my job at the bar. It didn’t bother me. I was able to have that one on one time with my son, and they are moments I will cherish for as long as I live.

  He is the light of my life. I never knew how incredible it would be to have a child. We took the time to get to know each other, embracing our favorite hobby—cars. Hunter would accompany me to the shop on the weekends if Cami was working, where he would sit and take in everything I was doing. Then, after hours, we would spend time under the Challenger.

  Hunter is a quick study. I’m quite impressed with his ability to remember everything I’ve shown him. Now, I want to teach him how to drive. Granted, he’s nowhere near sixteen, but in my opinion, once you know about a car, you can handle one. I might have to do that when his mother is at work, though. I’m certain she wouldn’t want her eight-year-old son driving.

  After Cami finished school, I decided I would make an honest woman out of her. She was completely shocked when I proposed to her, my family even more so when we told them we were getting married. Delilah went crazy when she found out she could plan another wedding. She took Cami under her wing, and they created a small, intimate wedding in the backyard of Reggie and Darcie’s place. It was very simple, with only family and a few close friends attending.

  After the ceremony, we got in the Challenger and stayed in a fancy hotel on the other side of town. Taking into account I was still on parole and couldn’t leave the county, Delilah booked us a room at some upscale place. My brothers paid for it as a wedding gift, and Hunter got to spend the weekend with his cousin Mia. And Cami and I … well, we had the best two days since we were reunited after my release from prison.

  I will never forget our wedding night. Our wedding day was perfect; the sun was shining and the weather was amazingly warm for early June. However, as we got to the hotel, a rainstorm hit Sulfur Heights out of nowhere. Cami and I just smiled. To us, the rain pouring down only reminded us of that night we fucked on the hood of my car. The sound, the feel, and the smell of the rain triggered something lust-filled inside of us. Before you know it, we were fucking.

  That’s exactly what happened when we got into our room. I walked to the balcony of our penthouse hotel room and opened the door wide. Then I walked back to my wife, clasping her frame to my body, and began to undress her.

  Her ivory wedding dress was a very simple, strapless, lace gown with no train or frilly shit. Her caramel skin glistened in the sun, as we stood hand in hand, vowing to devote our lives to one another. Her deep brown eyes shone just as brightly, and her chestnut hair lightly blew as the breeze picked up. She looked very beautiful.

  I remember how badly I wanted to rip the dress from her body. However, I knew she wanted to keep it intact. She said something in passing about making it an heirloom; she wanted to give it to her daughter if we had one or our son’s soon-to-be wife when the time came. I remember thinking how amazing that would be, so I was mindful when I took it off her body.

  I unzipped the gown and allowed it to swallow he
r feet in delicate fabric. Once she was unclothed, my rougher side took over. I wanted nothing more than to fuck my wife on the hotel balcony in the rain. It would be the perfect way to start our lives as husband and wife, just like it was the perfect way to get reacquainted when I was released from prison.

  I stepped away from her and removed my tie, jacket, and unbuttoned my white cotton shirt, tossing them to the floor. As I stalked my way to Cami, I unhooked my belt, pulling it from the loops, and it soon joined the rest of our clothes on the floor. I kept myself moving slowly forward, and as I got closer, she moved farther from me, backpedaling away.

  We were challenging each other. I knew what she wanted. Cami would never want me to tap into that menacing, bad side I possess, and I know she’d never ask for it, but in the bedroom, Cami loves when my rougher side emerges. I don’t do it every time we are together, only when I want to really shake things up, and Cami has yet to complain about it. So, on our wedding night, I made love to her, but only after I fucked her … and fucked her hard.

  We walked toward the balcony until her back was pressed against the wall beside the doors. She held her breath, anticipating what I was going to do next. I slid my hands over her shoulders, down her arms, and then clutched her wrists in my hands. I quickly jerked her arms up, pinning her wrists in my left hand, and then pressed my body forcefully into hers. Her lace-covered breasts were pressed against my chest, her tits perfectly poised. While her right leg slowly began to slide up mine until it latched onto my hip, my dick became a steel rod, dying to be released into her warmth.

  I pushed my cock against her, letting her know I was more than ready to fuck her. She whimpered yet moaned from my actions.

  When I slowly moved in close to her face and lightly pressed my lips to hers, she began to tremble as I nipped her bottom lip with my teeth. Then I laid my forehead close to hers and whispered, “I’m going to fuck you, baby.”

 

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