Always Mickie (Cruz Brothers Book 3)

by Melanie Munton

  Normally, I was the only one of us who could have a rational, calm conversation with our mom. Seeing as how I was the only one who could remember when she’d been an actual, loving mother, I knew the kind of good she had in her. I’d seen it. Out of the three of us, she and I had always had the best relationship—if you could call what we had a relationship.

  But I couldn’t handle all my emotions around her today.

  Not with Mickie nearby.

  And not with this damn ring in my pocket.

  My eyes flew down to her trembling hands. “How long have you gone without the pills?” I asked.

  She averted her eyes. “Four days. I’m trying to stop, okay?”

  And this was why I always caved.

  Because I had these glimpses of her where she was actually trying to change and be better. Sandra Cruz had once been a young, vivacious woman from Texas who’d had her whole life ahead of her. She hadn’t always been like this.

  Then she’d gotten pregnant with me.

  And as fucked up as it was to say, it was probably the worst thing that had ever happened to her.

  Yet another thing for me to feel guilty about.

  I scrubbed my hand down my face. Things would not go well if she stayed. And they certainly wouldn’t go the way I wanted them to, today of all days.

  “Look, I’m sorry. But you need to go.”

  “Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Mickie’s voice suddenly asked from beside me.

  I shot her a look that I was hoping said I love you, but I need you to walk away.

  She was clearly ignoring it as she offered my mom a sweet smile and stuck out her hand. “I’m Mickie, Dawson’s girlfriend.”

  My mom’s eyes darted to mine in shock before falling back on Mickie. She cautiously held out her hand and grinned.

  I bit back a sigh and waved to her. “Mickie, this is my mother, Sandra Cruz.”

  “So nice to meet you,” Mickie said.

  I truly, honestly had never planned for these two to meet. Ever. Even if Mickie and I did get married. Not while Mom was still on her pills and spent the majority of her life high. And not while she was still living with and married to Sal.

  I took Mickie’s arm and drew her away, despite her protests. “Go find our seats. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Her brow furrowed in confusion. “Why doesn’t she come sit with us? I’d like to talk—”

  “No,” I snapped. “This isn’t something I want you involved in.”

  Her lips thinned. “You mean your life? She’s your mother, for God’s sake, and I can’t even have a conversation with her? Seriously?”

  “We’re not discussing this, Mickie. So, please just do what I ask.”

  Oh, yeah. That had well and pissed her off. The last image I had of her face before she ripped herself out of my arms was of a scowl, the likes of which I’d never seen from her.

  Great.

  I’d be dealing with that later.

  I turned back to my mom. She looked so small and broken, and I felt some of the ice around my heart thaw.

  “If you want to stay and watch the game, fine. But stay out of sight, where Parker won’t spot you in the stands. And when the game’s over, don’t come find us. You can call him later and tell him you couldn’t make it. Believe me, it’s better this way.”

  Better that he wasn’t encouraged.

  All I ever wanted to do was protect my brothers. I wasn’t always able to physically do it when I was younger. So, I’d tried to make up for it in numerous emotional ways over the years.

  And preventing them from seeing how far our mother had fallen was one of them.

  Not that they hadn’t seen it for themselves. But it didn’t help to be reminded of it.

  She gave a small nod. “I get it. I’ll stay away.”

  I squeezed her bony shoulder. “I’m sorry. But you know what would solve all of this.”

  Get the fuck away from Sal.

  “Yeah, I know,” she said in a subdued voice.

  Deep down, I knew that avenue was pointless to travel down. Sal would have to die before she would ever be separated from him.

  She waved in the direction behind me. “You should go join your girlfriend. The game’s about to start.” She walked off before I could even respond.

  My mood now as murky as swamp water, I made my way to our seats, where Mickie sat with both arms and legs crossed. The international sign for “don’t mess with me.” Her head snapped around when I sat down. I could see a haughty response was on the tip of her tongue, and I couldn’t face that conversation.

  “Don’t,” I grated out.

  Her mouth clamped shut, and she scooted farther away from me in her chair.

  Now, I felt like a giant asshole.

  Fan-fucking-tastic.

  The plan was not going well so far.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dawson

  I had managed to get through the game, introduce Mickie to Parker, and survive dinner without having the Showdown of the Century with her in the middle of the restaurant. I appreciated her putting on a good face and not making a scene in front of Parker.

  Oh, but the glares she kept shooting my way told me it was coming.

  We’re talking murderous daggers she was repeatedly stabbing me with.

  Over and over again.

  “Pull over at this rest stop,” she said in a low voice.

  Apparently, the showdown was happening now. I was hoping we’d make it back to Baltimore before we had to do this.

  “It’s after midnight,” I said. “I’m not pulling into a sketchy-looking rest stop along a dark highway this late at night.”

  “Pull. Over.”

  Oo-kay.

  I pulled into a parking spot and braced myself. My mind was flitting over things to say, explanations to give, when she flew out the door and slammed it behind her.

  Guess we were doing this outside.

  I followed slowly, waiting to hear how badly I’d screwed up.

  She was pacing, kicking at the gravel on the asphalt. “I can’t believe you acted like that earlier,” she hissed.

  My jaw hardened. “I’m sorry.”

  Her head jerked up, piercing me with her fury. “No, you’re not. Because you don’t seem to understand why I’m so angry.”

  “Because I wouldn’t let you be around my mother,” I said cautiously.

  “That’s only part of it,” she snapped. She stomped over and poked me hard in the chest. “The real issue is the fact that you still won’t open up to me about the things you’re hiding. Whatever secrets you’re keeping, they’re still locked up in a vault. Apparently, you haven’t listened to a word I’ve said over the past few months.”

  I breathed through my nostrils, trying to keep myself in check. “I’ve told you things.”

  She held her arms out at her sides. “Yeah, you’ve told me how proud you are of Parker for getting a baseball scholarship. And what a gifted artist Mason is. But you haven’t told me anything about you. I know very little about your life before I met you.”

  I mirrored her stance and threw my arms out. “What is there to know?”

  Now, she crossed her arms. “Well, for starters, you have parents. Why don’t you ever talk about them? Why couldn’t I talk to your mom? What was growing up in D.C. like? What were you like as a kid? A teenager? These are all things a girlfriend should know.”

  “Why?” I asked, my voice rising. “Why can’t we just say everything before I met you doesn’t matter? Because my life began the day I met you, Mick. None of that other shit is relevant to you and me.”

  Her eyebrows drew together, looking as if I’d hurt her feelings. I didn’t want that.

  “You still don’t get it,” she whispered, stepping closer to me. “I love you, Dawson. I care about you. That means I want to know why there are shadows in your eyes every time your family is mentioned, or your past.” Pain slammed into my chest. “I want to know why you hardly laughed or smi
led when I first met you. And I want to know why you sometimes have nightmares that wake you up in a cold sweat.”

  It felt like I couldn’t breathe.

  The words she wanted to hear just weren’t there.

  Her face softened. “I see all of that, and I want to take it away. I want to ease your pain. And talking about it with someone can help. At the very least, it would help me understand you a little better.”

  I ignored the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. “My background isn’t who I am, Mick. What happened back then, it’s in the past where it should stay. Forever.”

  She watched me for several seconds, assessing me. Eventually, she gave a curt nod. “Then I’m done.”

  I froze. “You’re done with what?”

  Her expression looked defeated, weary. Not a good sign.

  “Done with us.”

  What? Was she serious?

  “Because I don’t want to tell you about my childhood, you’re going to throw everything we have away?”

  She pointed at me. “No, you’re throwing everything away, Dawson. By not allowing me in. Allowing me to know you. You haven’t opened yourself up to anyone in your entire life. Clearly, I’m no different. I’m just like every other person to you, so what’s the point in drawing out the inevitable. You’re never going to give me what I want.”

  No, no, no.

  She had it all wrong.

  She was different. She was special. She was everything.

  Tell her that. She has to know.

  “And I can’t be with someone who obviously doesn’t love me enough to want to do that.” She shrugged. “So, I’m out. I’ll get my stuff out of your place tonight. And I’ll leave you to wallow in your misery all alone for the rest of your life.” She turned back for the truck.

  This could not be happening.

  I was supposed to marry this girl.

  I couldn’t let her just walk out of my life.

  What the hell was I doing?

  I reached out and grabbed her arm. “Mickie, wait—”

  “For what?”

  God, she sounded so…broken.

  Her eyes were drawn and sad when she looked up. “Because I feel like all I’ve been doing is waiting. Waiting for things to change, but they haven’t. And you just told me they won’t. So, there’s nothing left to wait for.”

  She tried to move, but I maintained my grip. I worked my throat, finding the nerve—the courage—to unburden myself. To lay everything at her feet like she needed me to.

  This was so much harder than I’d expected it to be.

  “I love you,” I whispered. “So much. I want to be with you.”

  Her expression didn’t change. “This is exactly how we’ve ended this same conversation countless times before. You apologizing and telling me you love me, and I give in. But it’s different this time. I won’t allow it to end the same way. It’s over.”

  It couldn’t be over.

  I could not lose her.

  Fucking do something.

  “Please, Mickie.”

  She wasn’t listening.

  “Just give me more time to work through this.”

  She reached for the door handle, still ignoring my pleas.

  What was it going to take to make her stay?

  You know what it will take.

  But I couldn’t do that.

  She will walk out of your life if you don’t.

  Unacceptable.

  “Our father hit us.”

  Her body stilled, her hand frozen on the handle.

  I took her other hand and fell to my knees. I needed her love and her mercy, and I was prepared to beg for them. If keeping my past to myself meant I would truly not get to keep her forever, then I would tell her every fucking thing.

  “He beat us, Mick,” I said, my stilted words barely above a whisper. “Whenever he was mad. He started with our mom, then he turned to me. But he didn’t stop there. He eventually turned his fists on my brothers.”

  She was so quiet, but I couldn’t look at her.

  Tears swam in my eyes as I recalled so many horrible memories of a life I wish I could have forgotten. I hadn’t cried since…I was a kid?

  “I’d have to listen to them call out for me when he started in on them because I was already down on the floor, broken and bleeding.” I heard her gasp, but I pushed on. “I couldn’t help them. Not until I got older and bigger. Then Sal had a harder time beating up on me because I would fight back.” I closed my eyes. “But I can still hear them calling for me in my dreams. Begging me to protect them.”

  She sniffed. “Oh, Dawson…”

  I couldn’t stop.

  Had to get it all out or she wouldn’t be mine.

  “Mom tried to stop him, but she could only take so much,” I continued. “She turned to pain killers and muscle relaxants after all the beatings. After a while she…she couldn’t stop taking them. She was no longer our mom after that. She was just this empty shell who always slept on the couch and smelled like cigarettes. We had to fend for ourselves, in every way. Money, food, clothing. Everything.”

  Her hand touched my head, cradling it lovingly. Her presence helped me finish saying the rest.

  “I’ve never wanted to tell you all of this because I didn’t want you to see this side of me.”

  Her hand stilled. “What side?”

  I gritted my teeth, hating to admit the truth. “The side that…hates.” I looked up at her, feeling desperate. For what, I wasn’t sure. “I hate him, Mick. So much. I hate him for what he did to us, especially my brothers. Mason started doing fucking drugs because of him. Because he needed an escape from all of it. I never wanted you to see me,” I held out my hands, my head falling forward, “like this.”

  I heard her lower herself to her knees. She took my face in her hands, and forced me to look at her. “But this is you, Dawson,” she said. There was more life in her voice now than there was before. There was determination. “For the first time since I met you I feel like I’m finally seeing all of you. The real you. This is what I wanted.”

  “But I’m fucked up,” I choked out. “I’ve got so much anger inside me, I don’t even know how to deal with it most of the time. And I don’t want to bring you down with any of this. You’re too good to be dragged into…my hate. Stuff like this should never touch you.”

  She had tear tracks down her cheeks. She lifted my hand in hers and kissed my fingers. “Baby, you’re not going to scare me away with any of this. I promise. My parents are in prison. My mom used to turn tricks in our apartment. I’ve seen my share of darkness, and I have my own hate inside me. But together, we can heal each other.”

  Those might have been the scariest words she’d ever said to me.

  “What if I can’t heal you?” I managed. “What if I’m beyond hope and I can’t be healed?”

  She pulled our faces closer together, making sure I kept her eye contact. “Everyone can be healed. And there’s always hope. There’s a reason we’re together, Dawson. I think this is why. Because we need each other.”

  I couldn’t help it anymore.

  I kissed her.

  I needed to feel the connection we had. Needed to feel that spark jumpstart my heart back to life. Resuscitate me. Make me whole again. Only she could ever do that.

  And right now, I needed her to help me put all the pieces back together.

  I reached in my pocket and pulled out the ring, clenching it in my fist.

  I wasn’t sure if now was the right time. I would never really know when it was. And if I waited too long, it would end up passing me by.

  And I had to hear those words from her right now.

  I was desperate for proof—reassurance—that she wasn’t going to leave me when I messed up again. That she was willing to fight through the good times and the bad because she loved me too much to be without me.

  Because that’s exactly how I felt about her.

  I held my fist out in front of her, drawing her attentio
n to it—and opened my hand.

  She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, as more tears left her eyes.

  “I’m not good with words,” I said, my heart beating out of control. I didn’t know what I’d do if she said no. “Clearly.”

  We both had it in us to chuckle at that.

  “You probably think I’m insane for doing this right after a fight.” She smiled and wiped her tears away. “But I need to make sure you know how serious I am about us. How hard I’m willing to try to be better for you. I want to give you everything you want. If that means telling you every little detail about my life from start to finish, I’ll do it. Because this,” I held up the ring, “is what I want. And I want it always and forever.”

  She watched as I took her hand, and slowly eased the ring onto her finger.

  It looked fucking perfect there.

  I drew her attention back to me. “Marry me, Mickie. Give me a chance to be the man you want me to be. And I promise, I’ll never stop trying to give you everything you want. Let me be your husband.”

  She threw her arms around my neck. “You already are the man I want you to be. And you’ve already given me all that I could ever want.”

  I waited. “So, does that mean—?”

  “Which is why I’m saying yes.”

  My heart skyrocketed into the air. “You are?”

  She smiled, nodding. “Make me your wife, Dawson Cruz.”

  If a meteor had hit the earth at that very second, I would have died a happy man. A fucking ecstatic man.

  I crushed her lips under mine.

  Again, I wasn’t sure if it was the right time, but I needed to feel her everywhere and all over. Touch her in places that made her gasp, and lick her in places that made her squirm. Her moans had me hard as a rock in about two seconds.

  “I need to fuck you,” I said on a groan. “Soon. Like, now.”

  She laughed. “And you said you didn’t have a way with words.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Mickie

  2009

  I was officially done with my nursing classes. Forever.

  I had taken my last test, which meant my Bachelor’s Degree in Nursing was basically in the bag. And I’d done it all in three years because I’d busted my ass, taken all the extra classes I could handle—including summer classes every year—and studied incessantly.