by London Casey
“Then do it.”
“I can’t!” Owen yelled.
“Why?” Slade asked. “Need someone to do it for you? Need incentive? Here... I’ll charge at you.”
“Slade!” I cried out as he charged at Owen.
Owen stumbled to the left and started to fall. He caught himself and turned, grabbing for his gun.
I covered my mouth in shock.
Slade just stared at Owen. “You don’t want to do this. This isn’t who you are.”
“Owen, please,” I said. “This is because of Dad? Because he’s gone?”
Owen looked at me. He put the gun on the counter. Slade quickly grabbed the gun and unloaded it.
As Owen stepped toward me, there was anger in his eyes. “Olivia...”
“Owen,” I said. “I’m going home. If this is how you’re going to act, I’m leaving.”
“Yes,” Slade said. “Go, Liv. Right now.”
Owen tried to touch me and I got out of the way. I looked at Slade and he nodded to me. He was certain about it. He wanted to be alone with Owen. A drunk Owen. A scary Owen.
Slade rushed to me and opened the door. “I swear, Liv, I’ll take care of him. I won’t hurt him. Let me help.”
“Slade...”
“Please, Liv. Just go home. I’ll be there soon. Do you trust me?”
“Of course I trust you. I don’t trust him.”
“He’s grieving. This might be my chance.”
I touched Slade’s face. “Okay. Be careful, Slade. I love you.”
“I love you too,” he said.
We kissed and I left.
I heard the door lock click shut again. I looked back and saw Slade standing, his shoulders a mile wide.
I had to go. I couldn’t stand seeing Owen like this again.
But I knew... this wasn’t going to be friendly...
(SLADE)
I stood in silence and waited to hear Liv’s car drive away. She just needed to be safe and at home. The last thing I needed was something to happen to the baby. Or to Liv. She didn’t need to see this mess again. I was sure she dealt with it enough, which was probably why she was so cold to her own father’s murder. Maybe she never had the time or chance to grieve.
When the coast was clear, I stepped toward Owen. He leaned against a swivel chair at the counter.
“It’s just us,” I said. “How do you want to do this?”
Owen laughed. “Okay. Okay, Slade. Finally.”
Owen unclipped his belt and then took off his uniform shirt. He tossed it on the counter and stood there in a tank top. He had some size, nothing too impressive, but he was built for speed and quick fights. I was built for survival. And now... you didn’t get between myself and my family.
“You’ll never have her,” Owen said.
“Too late,” I said. “I’ve had her for years. She’s been mine. And now she’s carrying my child. You can’t do a fucking thing about that, Owen.”
I saw the rage. I saw the pain. He lunged at me and swung. I let him get one good punch on me. That was his gift from me. Merry fucking Christmas, asshole. When he tried to swing again, I grabbed Owen and threw him over the counter. He knocked over a setting of salt, pepper, ketchup, and some fake flowers in a vase.
Owen grabbed for the counter as I walked around it. I jammed my knee into his shoulder and sent him flying back. I reached down and grabbed his shirt and pulled him to his feet.
“Done?” I asked.
“Fuck you, Slade.”
I tossed Owen back over the counter.
I climbed over and he threw his foot forward, his heavy boot hitting me in the gut. I stumbled to the left and grabbed for a booth. It took me a couple seconds to catch my breath. Owen got back up, blood on his cheek, drunk and still willing to fight. He ran at me and tackled me to a booth. Then came the fury of drunk punches. He screamed as he punched me, hitting my arms, ribs, and face over and over. When I grabbed for his arms, he was quick and slippery. I fought to get to my feet and I threw Owen back.
When he hit a chair, he stopped for a second. That’s when I saw the tears in his eyes. He lifted two shaking fists and stepped at me.
“Okay,” I said. “Do it.”
I dropped my hands and let Owen hit me again.
A left to my jaw. A right to my eye. He grabbed my shoulder and then hit me in the gut.
Owen then put his head to my chest. I grabbed the back of his head and held him there. He tried to hit me again in the stomach but he was out of gas. His hand dropped to his side and we were in silence. My hand at the back of his head, holding him against me.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “Goddammit, Owen, I’m so sorry.”
And that’s when he broke down into tears.
He clutched my t-shirt and shook with weeping fury. I gave him a minute or so and then peeled him away from me. He looked at me, tears running down his cheeks.
“Come on, sit down,” I said.
I slid down the side of the booth until I hit the floor. Owen turned and plopped down in a booth. He hung his head between his knees, still weeping.
I just sat there and let Owen have his moment. I didn’t grieve the death of my father and never would. That piece of shit deserved to be rotting in the ground. But my mother? That was a whole other set of feelings. So I got it. I definitely got it. I wasn’t going to say that to Owen though. It wouldn’t prove shit and wouldn’t fix a thing. Plus, this was about Owen’s pain, not mine.
Owen reached for my shoulder and grabbed. “I became a cop because of him, Slade. Watching him look so big and so proud. He was larger than life to me. I would wait for him to wake me up when he got home, no matter what time it was. And he always had a story. Maybe some of the stories were complete bullshit, but he always had something to tell me. The greatest stories ever. I didn’t read comic books or watch shows and shit. I had my hero. I had my father.”
I nodded. “I’m sorry for what happened.”
“It was so long ago.”
“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, Owen.”
Owen took his hand away. He fell forward and crashed to the floor. “I became a cop because of him. But I became this kind of cop because of what happened. Because of people like you, Slade.”
“People like me,” I said. “Meaning what?”
“You’re a piece of shit. I remember the day you broke the window here. That was just the beginning, wasn’t it? You couldn’t stop. You always had to have yourself in trouble. You and your damn brothers. When my father died, I felt like I had no choice. I had to protect this town. Protect my family.”
“What the hell did you think my brothers were doing?” I asked. “You knew the hell that went on in our house. You know my mother killed herself because of it. Maybe she didn’t take a bullet like your father did but she lost her life long before she was supposed to.”
“Fuck you, Slade.”
“Fuck you, Owen,” I said.
Owen showed his teeth like a rabid dog. His eyes filled with tears again. “I just wanted a good life for Olivia. She deserved a good man. With a good job. Good intentions. I could protect my family and keep everyone safe. Then Olivia could find a man and we could all move forward. But the second she met you, that was it. You fucking ruined her. You ruined my fucking sister.”
I rubbed my chin. I grabbed for the table and forced myself to stand. I saw my reflection in the window of the diner. My eye and lip were bleeding. It was all I had ever known.
Violence.
Senseless and stupid violence.
My mother getting bounced around for cooking a pork chop too much. Me getting thrown around because I played with a toy too hard. Roman taking the brunt of the old man’s anger. Caine trying to fight back once or twice only to have bones broken.
I looked at my right hand. I made a fist and let it go. Twice.
“You know, I used to wonder,” I said, “if I’d ever be able to ride.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I told everyone I hit a tree and smashed my hand,” I said. I looked down at Owen. “Liv knew the truth though. My father shattered my hand in a car door. Because I got in his way between he and my mother.”
“Jesus, man.”
“No. No, Owen. There was no Jesus there. No religion. Just hell. But Liv was heaven.” I flexed my hand away. “When I fell in love with Liv I vowed to never let my father hurt my mother again. Liv didn’t know I was in love with her at that time though. We were just flirting with each other. I wanted to stay away. I didn’t want to ruin her life. I really didn’t.”
“You did though,” Owen said. “Now she’s carrying your fucking baby. And I have to love it. I’ll probably end up taking care of it when you fucking take off or end up dead.”
I nodded. “Thanks for that.”
“It’s the truth, Slade. You fucking know it. Christ, and you still haven’t faced Walker yet.”
“I’m not worried. She never loved him. You forced that on her. That was your good guy, huh?”
I looked at Owen and he wiped his eyes. He looked forward to avoid eye contact. “Yeah, that was my good guy.”
“But he’s not a good guy. He just has money. Liv would never be happy. That’s just your way to control everything. You’re the piece of shit, Owen, not me.”
There was silence.
Owen pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tell me the rest of your hand story.”
“I walked through the backdoor and my father had my mother against the counter. Hand at her throat. Her face was red. She was always tough. She never showed fear to us. Everything she did was to keep life feeling something like normal. She was the normal for all of us. But that day she moved her eyes and they met with mine. I saw fear. I saw fear and I fucking snapped. I ran right at them both. My father turned his head as I grabbed his wrist. I twisted it and broke his hold on her. He turned and hit me in the jaw. I fell back and my mother screamed. He wanted to go after her again and I grabbed him, keeping his focus on me. He said if I wanted to do it like a man follow him outside. So I did. He showed me a knife and said if I made a move he would stab me and leave my mother to clean up the blood and guts. My punishment?” I lifted my hand. I flexed it again. “I had to put my hand in the car door and let him shut it.”
“Goddamn,” Owen said. “And nothing happened to him?”
“Remember, I hit a tree? On my dirt bike? That was the story. Or else he’d hit my mother again.”
Owen just stared at me. There were still tears in his eyes. Marks on his cheeks from dried tears and blood. His face looked as bad as mine felt. His shirt was stretched out. Slowly, he lifted his hand and reached for me. He wanted me to take his hand.
I just stared at his hand.
He wanted me to fucking lift his sorry ass up?
I knew what I really wanted to do. I wanted to throw my damn knee to the side of his head and knock him out. Watch him lie there on the floor of the diner. Then I could stand over him and spit right on his face. But I saw something in his eyes.
I saw fear. I saw grief. I saw pain. Real pain.
The kind of pain I felt when I thought about my mother.
Owen was suffering.
I put my hand out and grabbed his. One quick tug and I had him on his feet. We stood there, our hands together like we were ready to embrace each other.
Owen started to slowly nod. “You love her.”
“I really love her, Owen,” I said.
“Nothing is going to stop you?”
“Nothing. Not you. Not Walker. Nobody in this town. This world. I left last time for her own good, not mine. I thought if she could find the right guy it would be worth it. She’ll never find the right guy.”
“Because you’re the right guy,” Owen said.
His head bobbed back and forth.
“Exactly,” I said. “I know I’m not the first choice for your sister, but you have to know I’d do anything for her. To love her and to protect her.”
“I’m going to be sick, Slade.”
“Come on, man,” I said. “Don’t be a fucking prick right now.”
“No, I mean it... literally...”
Owen’s face turned white.
I jumped back and ran behind the counter. I grabbed a bucket and put it on the floor. I kicked it and skidded right to Owen’s feet. I made it just in time as he hunkered over and started to throw up. He heaved like he was dying, growling as the wet chunks hit the bucket.
Grabbing for the table, Owen sat down and put his head down. “It hurts. I’m dying.”
“Oh, fuck, man,” I said. “You’re not dying. You’re sick from booze. You’ll be fine in the morning.”
“I have to go to bed,” Owen said. “Give me my gun, Slade. I’m going to shoot you.”
I grabbed the bucket and then grabbed Owen’s gun, just in case. I dumped his puke down the toilet, flushed it, and then walked back to the front of the diner. He was snoring on the table, already out cold. I could have left him there, letting him sleep it off and wake up to the owner of the diner finding him like he was. Then he’d be a real ass, huh? He’d be the talk of the town. The prince fallen from his throne.
Damn, it was tempting to do that to Owen.
I was pissed at myself as I grabbed his shirt and tossed it over my shoulder. I had his gun and clip in my back pocket. I then grabbed Owen by his shoulder and forced him up.
“I...”
“Shut up,” I said. “You’re drunk.”
“I should be nice to you,” he whispered. “Mom always told me. Mom always loved you. She told me that Dad was friends with some tough guys like you. Bikers. Gangsters. She said everyone has a place in the world.” Owen’s eyes opened and looked at me again. We were way too fucking close for my comfort. “But one of those types of guys shot him. They shot my Daddy, Slade. My Daddy. My Daddy is dead...”
Owen started to weep again.
“Come here, buddy,” I said.
I stood there and hugged Owen for a couple minutes as he cried. He then hiccupped and I put him at arm’s length. Puke on me? That’s when I would have definitely left him in the damn diner.
He didn’t puke.
His eyes closed again.
“I’m going to shoot you,” he whispered.
“No you’re not,” I said. “I’m going to drive your ass back to Liv’s. You can’t be alone for the night, Owen. Just in case.”
Outside, I realized I was going to have to drive the SUV. That’s when I started to laugh. I looked up to the night’s sky and shook my head.
“How ‘bout this, Ma?” I asked. “I’m the one driving the police car? I never thought I’d see that day.”
I dragged Owen to the SUV and put him in the back.
I walked around and climbed into the driver’s seat. There was a laptop in the middle console along with an array of buttons to press. It was tempting – my inner, bad boy child – to touch every button. To figure out the lights, sirens, and call in to dispatch that their fucking cop hero was dead drunk in the backseat.
Again, all I could think about was Liv. Back in her apartment, sitting there, probably touching her belly. Probably wondering what the hell was going on with me and her brother.
So there I was, driving Owen’s drunk ass, the knight in shining armor ready to save the world.
I was the last person that should have been saving anything... I was on a death ride and it was coming to an end soon.
(OLIVIA)
I sat on the edge of the couch, my left hand on my stomach, chewing the fingernails of my right hand. Every minute that went by I looked to the door, waiting for it to open. I had no idea what to do or what to expect. All I could think about was the gun. A drunk Owen and a gun was scary, right? Add Slade into that and someone was going to get hurt.
Something bad was going to...
There was a thud at the door.
“Calm the fuck down,” a voice growled.
Slade?
Then there was a gentle knoc
k.
“Hey, Liv.” It was Slade’s voice. “It’s me. Open up.”
I walked to the door and opened it. There was Slade with Owen leaning against him. Owen’s head was bobbing and he snored and said gibberish. I noticed both their faces were messed up.
“No,” I said.
“Yeah,” Slade said. “We fought. He cried. Now we’re here.”
“He cried?”
“Liv, beautiful, can I get him on the couch?”
“Oh, shit. Yeah.”
I got out of the way and Slade carried Owen to the couch. He dropped him down and lifted his feet up. Slade then looked at me. “I need a bucket and a towel.”
“Why?”
“Why do you think?”
“Oh. Gross.”
“Yeah, gross. He threw up in the diner.” Slade hurried and put a hand out. “In a bucket. Nobody will ever know.”
“What about the door?” I asked. “You don’t have the key... dammit.”
“Okay, Liv. Let’s get him settled and we’ll take a quick ride there. My motorcycle is still there too.”
I nodded. I shook my head and rubbed my face. I took two steps and then grabbed at Slade. “Hey.”
“What?”
“I’m happy you’re here. I was terrified. I thought someone was going to get shot.”
“So did I,” Slade said. “But I think we connected. I can’t believe I’m saying that.”
“Wait a second,” I said. “Your motorcycle is at the diner. How...”
“I drove the SUV,” Slade said with a grin. “I was the driver in a police vehicle.”
“I think I’ve heard everything now,” I said.
Owen stirred on the couch and groaned. “Oh... Daddy...”
I looked at Slade.
He shrugged his shoulders. “He’s having major Daddy issues.” Slade then touched my arm. “You should be too. It’s okay, Liv. I’m here to take care of all this shit. Somehow.”
I grabbed Slade’s hand and put it to my stomach. “I just want you to take care of this. Okay?”
“Forever, beautiful.”
“Forever,” I whispered.
“Now let’s go lock up the diner and get my motorcycle.”