by V. F. Mason
“You need to let her go.” If she was happy without him, he should. What was the point of bringing her pain? He wanted to hold on to his love, but maybe she wanted different things. Wouldn’t it be better to let her?
“Yes, I know.’’
“Hawk—”
“I still love her, and I still want her. But her happiness is more important than mine. If only she took me back. If only.”
I stared at this man and tried to recognize him, because I had never seen him so defeated or lost. He truly didn’t know how to live without his woman. But there wasn’t much I could say in this situation. He had to live with the mess he had created. I got out of the car and he followed, taking my bag. He hugged me, and I hugged him back, finally having the closure I’d wanted. I was looking for answers, and in a way, I got them. I had the dad who’d raised me until I was five. I didn’t remember him, but I heard he was great with me, which was always a good thing to know. Hawk, however, was something else, a connection I was seeking and feeling. I think all kids felt that way. That's why they tried to find their biological parents no matter how good their adopted parents were. You need to know everything about yourself to feel complete.
“I love you, kid, even if you don’t know that. Life here isn’t for you, but remember, if you ever need a home, you can come here and have it.”
It meant a lot, what he said. I nodded and let go. “I hope she’ll come back.” I took up my bag and headed in the direction of the doors, when he called out my name. I turned around.
“There are several kinds of women in this world. The ones who provide fun, with whom you can spend a good time and have some off-the-charts moments. The ones who will rock your world in bed and teach you a thing or two about pleasure. The ones who can be in your life for a short while, because it’s comfortable. The ones who listen to you and you can unload your problems on them and they will take you back no matter what. But the best one of all of them is the one who has a combination of all those things. Once you find her, you can never let her go, because, son, you don’t get that generous gift from life often. Once, maybe twice, if you’re lucky enough or for some reason God took the one away from you too soon. Don’t spend your time in regrets and what-ifs. You can have her right now and spend your entire life seeing different sides of her and never get tired of being with her.” With those words, he left me standing there dumbstruck.
What if….
Oh my fucking hell! I had already spent enough of my time on what-ifs.
Quickly running inside, I prayed to God it wasn’t too late, and she would listen to me and give me another chance.
Because, somehow, I didn’t think life would be that fucking generous to me again.
First, I had to see my aunt and take care of things I’d left behind. Then I would fly to New York and claim my girl once and for all.
She was mine. I hoped to God she still thought the same.
Staring at the big house in front of me, memories of my childhood washed over me. After the accident, we’d stayed at my parents’ house. The money left from Dad was enough to keep it, and Aunt Tara thought it was good for me to stay in the same place. I remembered playing in the yard, riding bikes, and other shit I learned. She used to read her books on the porch while I ran around like crazy. She never left me alone. She made sure I had everything, but she had no social life. She allowed me to have all my friends over, and she was always kind and gentle. I couldn’t believe I’d hurt her so much.
I was exhausted after the flight and wanted to take a shower. I took the key from my pocket and entered the house. It was quiet, but smelled the same, like her rose perfume, which for me was her trademark. I smiled; there was nothing like coming home. My eyes landed on the wall in the hallway, filled with pictures. The majority of them were of me, during different stages of life. I was a kid with a ball, me during graduation, me at the university and at various games she attended. Pictures of me with my parents, with Aunt Tara, and finally a single picture of my mom. She was so beautiful and smiled happily while she was holding me in her arms just hours after I was born, my dad hugging her protectively. They seemed happy. I put my fingers on the picture.
“Thanks, Mom,” I said quietly, and finally peace settled over me. I was forever grateful to her for giving me a beautiful life, for giving me a dad, having an amazing sister who raised me as her own, and finally, even though I was the result of a one-night stand, it was with one hell of a man. I could finally let go. Flashing them a smile, I ran upstairs. Maybe she was napping. I knew she was home; her car was there. Plus, she never went out much. She was young, only thirty-nine, but I had never seen her doing anything for herself.
I finally reached her door, knocked, and called out her name. There was silence and I was about to enter, because that shit was starting to worry me, when the door opened and my aunt was there, flushed and breathing hard, with only a sheet covering her body.
“Shane?” She looked mortified, and I just blinked. If I didn’t know better, I would think she was—
“Tara? Who are you talking to?” Well fuck. She had a man in there. My aunt had a man? I blinked again. I didn’t really know how to react.
“Shane, please give me a minute and go downstairs. Please.” She was begging me? What the hell? She was the woman who was able to rip me a new one if I ever disrespected her. I remembered I put her through hell for the last year and shame came back.
“Sure, Aunt Tara.”
She looked surprised but smiled back, and I remembered how much I missed it. I decided to take a shower and change my clothes. I already had a ticket to New York, thanks to Becky, who agreed to help me out. I got her number from Maggie. She told me the location I needed to be in and what time to arrive, not to mention the clothes I needed to wear.
After I was done, I went downstairs and smelled the coffee and apple pie. She probably quickly put it together, and it was in the oven. As we watched each other for a second, I decided not to wait anymore. I hugged her, and it felt like coming home. She’d raised me. I loved my mom, I really did, but Tara was my mom in a way too. She was my family.
“Missed you,” she whispered. “I’m so glad you’re home.” She gently patted my head then leaned back, and her eyes watered. She smiled though, and I wiped tears from her cheeks with my fingers.
“I missed you too. I’m sorry, Aunt Tara, for being an asshole.”
“Language,” she said firmly. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re home.” We sat at the table, and she took my hand in hers. “Did you find what you were looking for?” I knew she was asking me about Hawk and the stuff I’d wanted to know before I left.
“Yes, I did.”
“Are you at peace?”
“Yeah.”
She squeezed my hand. “I’m glad, honey. I’m really glad.”
Before I had the chance to say anything else, a tall man entered the room, and to say I was fucking surprised was an understatement. He was good-looking, had brown hair and eyes, and looked generally okay. He was fucking young. I looked at Aunt Tara and smirked, and she scowled.
I never thought my aunt was a cougar, but at the same time, who cared about the age difference? The guy must be in his late twenties. He came closer to me and extended his hand and I shook it.
He had a firm handshake and looked me straight in the eyes. “Eric.”
“Shane.”
“Yeah, heard a lot about you, Shane.” His eyes were cold though as he went to my aunt and stood behind her in a protective stance. Yeah, the guy was angry with me for making her suffer.
“Are you here for good?” she asked with hope, and I shook my head and her face fell.
“I need to go to New York.”
She frowned. “Why?”
“Because of Serena.”
“And she is?”
Taking a deep breath, I replied, “She’s the girl I love, who I hurt. I need to get her back.”
She didn’t say anything for a minute, but then her face bright
ened with happiness as her eyes filled with relief. “Well, what are you waiting for? Go get the girl. But first, let’s have some pie.”
And just like that, I got my family back.
Serena
“It’s beautiful!” Becky said, squeezing the life out of me.
We were standing at the Atmosphere Gallery of Rachel Montgomery, who’d agreed to showcase my paintings in one of her events. I even signed a contract with her. It wasn’t bringing me much money, but it brought small recognition, which was one of the best things for an unknown artist.
The minute I decided to do it professionally and said as much to Alice, she took me to my dad and I told him the news. He wasn’t surprised at all and just nodded, but I saw happiness in his eyes, as though he finally had his daughter back. I went back to Columbia and asked them if I could go back to studying a Bachelor of Arts degree. They transferred some of my credits, but I would have to study for another year and a half. I didn’t mind.
I finally felt like I was on the right track with my life. I’d found confidence with belief in myself that wasn’t there before. Hopefully, I would get something from selling the paintings soon, and then I would be able to afford my studies myself. I’d already moved out of Dad’s house and was renting an apartment downtown, which was very different from what I was used to. I could practice my craft there, and thankfully, due to my experience from the ranch, I knew how to take care of myself and discovered I could do a lot by using the metro or walking. I loved it, and I wouldn’t change a minute of it.
I had my city that never sleeps and the things I loved to do. I cut out most of my friends. They thought I was crazy, and to be honest, it wasn’t like we were close. Becky had other plans for her future. Even though I asked her to move in with me, she refused. She was acting strange, but I didn’t ask why.
I submitted my work to several galleries, but sent it anonymously since I didn’t want them to do it because of my name. I needed to know I could do it on my own. Finally, after ten rejection letters, Rachel agreed to meet me and loved my drawings and paintings. And here I was during my first show. People loved it, and I was happy.
Part of me was, anyway. All those things kept me from thinking about Shane and what we had. I didn’t call or write him, and he didn’t do it either. I didn’t understand why I kept hoping he would change his mind.
“He looks like a warrior gazing at nature, you know?” Becky’s voice brought me back to reality, and my eyes studied the painting of Shane, which captured him on the grass looking at the ranch. His stance was fierce, wearing only jeans, and his black hair was blown back by the wind. Some ladies even blushed, whispering he was hot, and who could blame them? He sure was.
“Serena, honey, this is amazing work!” Alice said and hugged me. The softness of her embrace calmed my nerves a bit.
After the talk we’d had, we started mending our relationship, and slowly it turned into friendship. She helped me move out and assisted with art. She was, in fact, an amazing woman, and part of me felt sad that Dad would never love her. I tried to ignore the glimpses of pain she had in her eyes when she looked at Dad, even though she tried to hide it.
“Baby girl, I always knew you had talent.” Dad was next to embrace me, allowing me to exhale a heavy breath. It seemed surreal that everyone loved my work. I didn’t understand my need to cry.
They strolled down to greet someone else, and I was again left alone with Becky.
“Babe, you need to try harder with this whole ‘I’m happy’ act.”
“I’m not acting,” I said defensively, hating the truth in her words.
“Sure, and all those paintings of the hot cowboy? I mean, I love to look, but you are clearly not over the guy, so stop acting as though you are.”
I didn’t need to talk about it right then, because it was my moment to shine, and I was finally finding my way in life where I could be happy and comfortable with myself. I hated I couldn’t get enough satisfaction from this. Silly me wanted love, too.
Not any love. I craved my warrior back with me, not looking back at me from paintings.
I spoke with Maggie sometimes. She was back in Austin starting her last semester of college. She wanted to be at the ranch by Christmas and start doing something there, though I wondered what. There was something on her mind, but I couldn’t quite catch what. She never spoke of Shane, only that he was grumpy and didn’t talk much, not that I expected anything else, but I still wanted to hear something.
Like I said before, really pathetic.
“I’m not pretending, and could you just drop it?” It was easy for Becky to say, she continued to enjoy an active sex life as usual and was dating some jock from my university who had all the muscles but somehow lacked the brain. But as she pointed out, she loved to get freaky with his body and didn’t care much for what he had to say, so everything was fine by her. Sometimes I wondered what it would take for her to settle down with one guy. Even with all those problems she had, she managed to sleep around.
“Fine, jeez, you’ve become no fun at all.” She waved somewhere in the crowd. “Derek is here, so I’m gonna go. He spotted a dark closet where we can have some fun.” She winked and left, and I rolled my eyes. Leave it to my best friend to have sex in the closet at my first gallery show.
Being left alone allowed me to wander around and study people’s reactions to my work. Many of them had the sold sign, and it created butterflies in my stomach. Some of them I would give to charity. The one that my mom started, I thought it would make her happy that I had some personal input into it. The money was the first I’d earned by myself and that hadn’t been given by birthright.
It was such a funny concept, birthright.
“Serena.”
I turned around, saw Jason, and groaned inwardly. I mean, we did fool around a bit—well, a few kisses hardly even counted as fooling around, but still—and I never called him back and then disappeared. He tried to make contact with me after that, but I avoided him like the plague, and I thought he’d gotten the hint, but here he was.
“Amazing artwork!” He looked as handsome as ever, wearing a suit with his light blond hair neatly done. Typical GQ material, just my type before summer. And even though we couldn’t have been a permanent couple, we would have worked great with my dad, because he had some business with Jason’s family.
“Thank you,” I replied with a smile.
Suddenly, out of the blue, he leaned in and kissed me on the lips. I was so shocked at first I didn’t react at all, but then I took a step back. Before I could say anything, I noticed silence around us and that everyone’s attention was on something or someone behind me. Surely, it wasn’t because of the kiss. A kiss I had to set Jason straight about, because in no way did I want to start all over with him and whatever it was we had.
I was almost dreading looking back, because I got a tingling sensation in my body that only one person could awaken. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and turned around.
There he was, wearing jeans, a black T-shirt, and black loafers. His hair was down on his shoulders, and it was like black silk while his blue eyes held fury in them. He was every bit as fierce as he was in my paintings, and every bit as scary.
Like I said, a warrior.
My warrior.
“Oh my!” I heard one of the females gasp, and someone took a photo of him.
Oh my was right.
He didn’t look pleased with the situation he found himself in at all.
Part of me was furious he thought he could just show up here and be pissed off with me. What the hell was he pissed off about? Part of me was just happy to see him and thrilled by his behavior. I had a feeling the former was winning over the latter.
Shane
I couldn’t fucking believe the rage rushing through me.
My girl—mine!—was standing there, receiving a kiss from some uptight upper-class blond guy and did nothing to stop him. The rational part of me knew we’d broken up and she was free to do
whatever she wanted. I was the one who’d screwed up and had to ask for forgiveness and hope like fuck she would give it.
None of those thoughts calmed me down, and I still wanted to murder the guy and then spank my girl’s sexy ass for letting someone else, someone who was not me, touch what was mine.
I was happy she, at least, had a deer-caught-in-headlights expression, which meant she was a bit afraid of my reaction. Good. I liked that, because that would make her attentive to my every action, and I fucking loved that. Loved her attention on me.
“Serena,” I said quietly, but she knew my tone. She swallowed and her eyes were hooded slightly with arousal, but she stood straight and narrowed them.
Ah, she remembered she was angry with me. First things first though.
“Who is the guy?” I didn’t care everyone was watching us. It wasn’t like, if I kept my mouth shut, they would stop talking about me. Hell, my face was everywhere here, so I was already a celebrity for them.
“Excuse me?” GQ guy raised his brows.
I shifted my attention to him. “Okay, who the hell are you?”
“Oh, God, did you hear his voice?” someone called out, but I didn’t give a shit who. All those people seemed weird as if they had sticks up their asses. I had better things to do.
Like getting my girl back.
“Jason Branson.” The guy looked unsure for a second but then gave me his hand, and I took it. Not because I wanted to be polite, I just wanted to know the measure of his strength and show him mine.
“Shane Alexander. You kissed my girl here, and I didn’t like it.” I heard Serena gasp but still kept my eyes on the guy. I saw the minute he registered what I said and how his lips moved into a line. He didn’t like that bit of information.
Well, tough luck.
“I see.” He briefly glanced at Serena. “You forgot to mention that.”