Redemptive (Combative Trilogy #2)

by Jay McLean

  Tiny nodded. “My dad. He bailed when I was fourteen, and I haven’t heard from him since.”

  “I’m sorry,” Bailey said, the genuine sincerity in her voice clear.

  With a shrug, Tiny laughed once. “He used to take me to ball games whenever he could, and my favorite part was always the hotdogs. Now every time I smell hotdogs, I think of him. How fucked up is that?”

  Bailey laughed. “It’s not fucked up at all.”

  “What about you, Bailey? What’s the first thing that comes to mind when you think of her?”

  She thought for a moment, and then a small smile crept to her lips, and it was such a fucking shame that the only two people who got to witness it were a drug dealer and his muscle. “Fall leaves.”

  “Leaves?”

  She nodded. “Not all leaves,” she said, her eye roll making her seem younger.

  “So why fall leaves?” Tiny asked, a slight tease in his tone.

  “Because fall was her favorite season… we used to have this massive tree in the backyard, and we’d always wait for a huge pile to build up before going out there and running through it all. Some people have snowball fights. We had leaf fights.” She paused for a moment, the memory causing her to frown. “It was the last thing we did together.”

  Silence so deafening blanketed the room, and when Tiny’s hand reached out and covered hers, I croaked out, “Bailey, did you take your insulin?”

  “I made sure of it,” Tiny answered, squeezing her hands once before pulling away.

  I cleared my throat. “What time is it?”

  “Late,” Tiny said.

  “Are you hungry?” Bailey asked, getting up and coming over to me. She placed a hand on my cheek, her smile matching her voice, warm and all consuming.

  I shook my head and grasped her wrist. “Will you come to bed, baby? I just want to hold you.”

  She nodded slowly, her smile widening as Tiny started to clear the table. “Thanks for taking care of her,” I told him, but I was watching Bailey walk to the bathroom.

  “Maybe let her take care of you tonight, Nate,” he said quietly. “I think you might both need that.”

  A minute or so after Tiny left, Bailey returned with a glass of water in one hand and a bottle of aspirin in the other. “I thought this might help,” she said, indicating for me to scoot over so she could sit down on the edge of the bed.

  I did as she wanted, and sat up to take the water from her, thanking her as I did.

  After taking a couple of the pills, I set the glass on the nightstand and focused on her. “You and Tiny talked all night?”

  She nodded. “We did. It was nice.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “I like him.”

  I chuckled. “Me too.”

  “I learned something,” she said, her cheeks darkening with her blush.

  “Jesus,” I murmured, settling my hand on her leg. “He better not have told you embarrassing stories about me,” I half joked.

  She didn’t find it funny. Instead, she reached up, her finger tracing my jaw. “Ti amo, mio ragazzo bel rotto.”

  I love you, my beautifully broken boy.

  31

  Bailey

  Days turned to weeks, and I stopped counting—both the tiles and the time. I’m not sure if it was a good thing or not, but I could no longer do it to myself. Because with the counting, came the hope—the hope of freedom—and I owed it to Nate to stop thinking about it. Even though my ideals of freedom had changed from the basic memories of the outside world to dreams that included Nate and the outside world, it still wasn’t fair to put that much pressure on him, even if it was only in my head.

  Tiny had dinner with us once a week, on Tuesdays I’d been told, and I enjoyed that time with them. They both seemed to relax during those nights and sometimes (like now) I just sat back and watched them. I listened to their laughter and banter, and I found myself wondering how there could be this much of a contrast from who they are as themselves, as opposed to the people I met in the darkened woods one fateful night, to the people they had to be. Then I remembered that Nate was only twenty-two and for some reason that made me sad. Really sad. “Is this the life you expected to have at twenty-two?” I asked him, cutting into whatever conversation he and Tiny were having.

  “Um…” Nate gave Tiny a sideways glance.

  “Twenty-three,” Tiny said, and Nate’s jaw tensed, his eyes narrowed at Tiny.

  “You had a birthday?” I whispered. I don’t know why it hurt so much to know that, but it did. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Nate lifted the glass of whiskey to his lips and paused with it there, his gaze locked on Tiny as if sending a silent message.

  “Nate? Why didn’t you tell me?” I repeated.

  He sighed, his shoulders dropping with the force of it. “It’s not a big deal.”

  “It is to me!” I snapped. Sure, I was defensive, but they were supposed to be my friends. My only friends. My family. And they’d purposely kept something from me.

  Nate finally turned to me as he tipped back the whiskey, his throat shifting when he swallowed. “It’s not a big deal, Bailey. It’s just another day, and it’s not like we could’ve done anything to celebrate so…”

  The tears came fast and free, and I couldn’t contain them. Just like I couldn’t contain the sob that burst out of me. And so I ran to the bathroom and slammed the door because I was so embarrassed, and for so many reasons. Not just because I’d broken down for what to them might seem like nothing, but also because Nate was right. We couldn’t even go out to celebrate his birthday. I couldn’t buy him a present. I couldn’t even cook him a meal. And to think that only minutes ago I’d actually asked him if this was the life he wanted. Twenty-three and trapped with me. His existence was almost as pathetic as mine. No. It was worse. Because he had a choice. I didn’t.

  “Bailey!” Knock. Knock. Knock. He didn’t wait for a response before opening the door, but he didn’t step inside. He just stood there, arms raised, gripping the doorframe. “This is why I didn’t tell you, babe, because I knew you’d act like this.” He licked his lips, his eyes slow as they blinked, trying to focus. He’d been drinking, like he did every Tuesday night, but he was nowhere near drunk. “And you can’t really be mad at me for knowing you too well,” he said, a slight smirk building as he released the doorframe and took a step forward. He peered down at me through his thick lashes, the corner of his bottom lip trapped between his teeth.

  I took steps backward until my ass hit the counter and I had nowhere else to go. Then I pressed my hands to his chest to stop him from coming closer. He was trying to seduce me into forgetting my feelings and most of the time it worked, but I wouldn’t let it now. “You don’t have to be with me, you know?” Puke rose to my throat as the words left me, but I needed to be strong. I needed to get through the rest. “You deserve to be with someone who’s going to love you completely, who’s going to know what the fuck day it is so you can be together and celebrate your birthday—”

  “I did celebrate my birthday,” he interrupted.

  I crossed my arms and raised my eyebrows.

  He nodded. “With Tiny. He took me to dinner.”

  If his admission was supposed to make me feel better, it had the complete opposite effect, and the sob that escaped me was proof of that.

  “Bailey,” he said through a sigh. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “You deserve more, Nate,” I cried, pushing on his chest. I ignored the look of rejection on his face as I shoved him out the door and wiped the tears off my cheeks. And with the bathroom door almost closed, I told him, “I just want to be alone.”

  *

  I’m not sure how long I sat with my ass on the floor, my back against the door, an entire roll of toilet paper scattered around me. I cried. I cried hard, loud, fat, ugly tears until there was nothing left, but it didn’t take away my pain or my insecurities.

  My cries
slowed as I pushed off the door and started to pick up the strewn bits of toilet paper and that’s when I heard it… a slight thump on the bathroom door. Tiny and Nate were going to work at a Halloween party. No one was supposed to be home.

  Every single muscle in my body froze.

  So did my breathing.

  So did my heart.

  “Bailey?” Nate said.

  “Jesus Christ,” I breathed out, relieved, and asked, “What are you doing home so soon?”

  “I never left, Bai.”

  I leaned back against the door, not ready to face him, but maybe ready to talk. Not that I’d somehow miraculously gained any more clarity with my feelings. All I did was cry and occasionally think about him with other girls, which only made me cry harder. “So you heard…”

  “Everything.” I felt the door move slightly, pushing me forward, as if he was on the other side, sitting exactly the way I was.

  I looked down at my hands, knuckles sticking out behind my pale, pasty-white skin. There wasn’t a single thing attractive about them, or about me, and that thought released another silent sob from my throat.

  On the other side, Nate sighed loudly, the door shifting against my back matching his movements. “Look under the door,” he said quietly.

  I looked down, but there was nothing there. “What am I looking…” My words died in the air when I saw a single fall leaf slide under the door. I reached down and picked it up, careful not to break it. “Nate…” I whispered, unable to find my voice.

  “I want to tell you something, and I’d really like it if you’d just listen. Can you do that, Bailey? For me?”

  I placed the leaf on my palm, cold and moist against my skin. “Okay.”

  He was silent a beat, most likely gathering his thoughts. Then he cleared his throat. “Tiny and I go to this deli for work, and every Thursday for the past couple years, this group of kids—three guys and three girls—show up at the same time, used to sit at the same table, and they’d just talk, about anything and everything and for some reason it fascinated me so much that I’d find myself going there every Thursday, just like them, and I’d sit and I’d watch them. And I’d feel this kind of emptiness in my gut, this longing or jealousy or something… because I didn’t have that, Bailey, and because of who I am and what I do, I knew I could never have that. But I chose this life, and I have to live with the consequences. I guess they must have graduated and gone off to college or something because now there’s only four of them. But those four still show up on time, every Thursday, and as fucked up as it sounds, I still go, and I still watch them. Only now, the emptiness I feel isn’t for me. It’s for you.

  “I know you’re not just upset at me because I didn’t tell you it was my birthday. I’m not naive, and I’m not stupid enough to believe that, or ignore the real reasons. Because more often than not, I watch those friends, and I think about you, and I wonder what your life would be like had I not fucked it up—”

  “Nate—”

  “I could’ve taken you to a bus station that night, cashed you up and sent you on your way. You could’ve had a new start, found a job, found a life, found friends you could meet with once a week. But I didn’t do that. I brought you here. I kept you here. And you might think that I deserve more. That I’m somehow trapped with you, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. Who I am outside this room is the one who’s trapped, Bailey, but with you… you allow me to be me, you love me for me. I know you think I saved your life, but the truth is, you saved mine.”

  I let his words sink in, the leaf now a crumbled mess in my hands.

  “You’re the only freedom I’ve ever known, Bailey.”

  32

  Nate

  Since the high-society preppy kid overdosed and the shit went down with Louis Franco, Tiny had been staying at the house. He’d been living in a one-bedroom apartment, and when I found out his lease was up, I told him he should just move in. He had the entire top floor, and Bailey and I had the basement. It was kind of a win/win because with him here, I didn’t have to worry so much about anything happening in and around the house, and I could focus on taking care of Bailey.

  Unless it was urgent, he left us alone. He knew how important it was for me to be with Bailey, and he respected that. The only thing that’d really changed was that we’d finally signed up at a gym and had started taking MMA classes (his idea) together. He’d said that if he was going to the gym, he might as well learn how to fight with his hands instead of his gun.

  We’d only been to three classes, and honestly, I hadn’t really learned shit, but Tiny seemed to enjoy it, so I pretended to as well, because fuck, I owed him that much.

  “Tell me again why the fuck I’m standing in a stranger’s front yard kicking around leaves?”

  I picked up a leaf, inspected it, then dropped it. “Remember that story she told you? About her mom and the leaves.”

  He nodded, distracted by his task.

  “So I gave her one once and she asked me to bring her one every day, so I do. But it’s getting cold now and most of the fall leaves are gone, and I’m just trying to find her the perfect one.”

  For a long time, Tiny didn’t respond, and when I looked up at him, he was standing with his hands on his hips, his eyes wide. “Wow,” he said, then blew out a long, drawn out breath. “Nate DeLuca—the ladies man,” he sang. He chuckled, his fat gut bouncing with the force of it. “Most guys bring home flowers and diamonds, and you bring home leaves.”

  I dropped my gaze to my shoes and the predominately dead leaves surrounding them.

  He must’ve seen my reaction because he said, “Yo. I was kidding, Boss Man.”

  I looked up at him. “You think I should buy her jewelry or something? I mean, I got her that bracelet, and I bring her charms every now and then, but maybe I should do more.”

  He scoffed. “What the fuck is Bailey going to do with jewelry? Bitches only want that shit so they can show off to their friends and Bailey has none so—”

  He broke off when I scowled at him.

  “Look,” he said, his hands up in surrender. “Who knows? Maybe leaves are Bailey’s versions of diamonds.”

  I shrugged, but my ego was already deflated, and nothing he could say would change that.

  “Why just one?” he asked, dropping to his hands and knees so he could take a closer look at the leaves.

  “What do you mean?”

  He held one up to show me, and I shook my head. It wasn’t good enough. Not for Bailey. Tiny asked, “Why do you just bring home one? And who’s to say that your version of the perfect leaf is the same as her version?”

  I shook my head. “This might just be the dumbest conversation we’ve ever had.”

  “Seriously, though,” Tiny said, taking a handful of leaves and pocketing them. He did this a few more times before adding, “If what I say is right, and the fuckin’ leaves are her version of diamonds, then what bitch doesn’t want more fuckin’ diamonds?”

  “Don’t call her a bitch,” I snapped, earning me an eye roll.

  “Sorry, Master,” he mocked, voice low as he struggled to get to his feet. “Doth me lady prefereth thy plethora of foliage?”

  “You’re a fuckin’ idiot, Tiny,” I told him, trying to contain my laughter. “Get the leaves and meet me in the car.”

  “Yes, Your Honor!”

  *

  “So what exactly do you plan on doing with them all?” Tiny asked Bailey, a small pile of leaves on the floor between them.

  Bailey lifted her gaze, her eyes meeting mine and the disappointment I saw in them had my heart dropping to my stomach. Her throat bobbed with her swallow, and she got to her knees, her movements slow as she reached out for a leaf. “I didn’t really have plans,” she mumbled.

  I kneeled down next to her, leaves crunching beneath my weight as I brushed my fingers along hers. “Is something wrong?”

  Her sad eyes lifted and locked on mine as she faked a smile. “I’m fine, baby.” She kissed
me quickly, then went back to looking at the leaves. “I wonder if there’s a way we can preserve the color.”

  *

  Five YouTube tutorials later, Bailey had a plan, and Tiny had a shopping list he promised to take care of the next day.

  The leaves sat in a much neater pile, in the corner of the room. As Bailey and I got into bed, Tiny’s words and her reaction still weighed heavily on my mind.

  I lay on my stomach, one hand under the pillow, the other on her waist.

  She rolled her head to the side, her smile still fake and her eyes still lost. I tried to find the right words to tell her what I was thinking and after minutes of silence, I gave up on the words and moved closer to her, my hand on her hip, pulling her toward me. I nuzzled into her neck as her hands landed softly on the back of my head. I’d never felt as appreciated as I did when her fingers laced through my hair and she whispered my name.

  I moved my hand down her stomach, to the lace of her panties as she tilted her neck, making room for me. Her legs spread when my hand dipped into the waistband, her fingers gripping my hair tighter. My movements were slow, fingers gentle as they skimmed the lips of her pussy.

  I wasn’t touching her to get her off.

  I was doing it to appreciate her.

  From the sounds she was making, and the motions of her hips, I knew she wanted more, I could smell the need pouring out of her. But I didn’t give it to her, not yet. Instead, I kissed her neck, up to her ear. And then, stupidly, I asked, “Do you want me to give you diamonds?”

  Her body tensed beneath mine and mine did the same, my finger poised at her entrance. “What?” she asked.

  I slid a finger inside her, relaxing the moment I felt her body do the same. “Or perfume. Or something?”

  Her legs clamped around my hand, her fingers circling my wrists. “Nate,” she said, her voice firm. I looked up at her and wiggled my finger inside her, causing her to moan, but not to forget. “What are you talking about?”

  “Or clothes. I could buy you clothes. I have money, you know. I mean, I’m not Fuck You rich, but I can afford to—”