Beyond Hereafter (The Movie Trilogy Book 3)

by Kimberly Adams

  I held down my insufferable tears, adamantly refusing to let them fall.

  He reached for me suddenly, sliding his hands into my hair as he held my face in his hands.

  I gasped, tasting his breath on my lips as he lowered his voice to barely a whisper.

  “I’m not going to say the words,” he murmured, closing his eyes and dropping his forehead to mine. “I won’t do that to you, or to Keaton. But you know. You have to know.”

  I dug my nails into his wrists, pinching my eyes closed and trying to remember a time when my life was simple. Before Matthew, before Keaton, and before the uncertainty of loving someone who was in pain.

  Dependent.

  “Go find Keaton after you eat,” he said finally, letting go of me and pushing to his feet. “I will never talk about this again, I promise.”

  He left me alone on the patio, and I gave up on my dinner, leaning back in the chair and burying my face in my hands.

  The Hurt Locker

  K

  “Luke!”

  I tried to call to him from over the music, but he stormed past, heading for the driveway.

  “He just texted me and said he was leaving,” Robin explained. “I at least wanted a hug goodbye.”

  The pain pills that I’d taken were finally starting to kick in. I glanced at Robin, nodding to the bar. “I’m going to get a drink, and I don’t want to hear one fucking word about it.”

  She widened her eyes and shrugged, gesturing toward the line. “You’re a grown-ass man, Keat. Do whatever the fuck you please.”

  I was already halfway there, and downed the shot of whiskey before Frank could make his way over to me. When I ordered another, I held my hand in his face, indicating that he shut the fuck up.

  “We’re leaving,” Frank shouted into my hand as the music blared from the ballroom.

  I nodded, giving him and his wife a half-wave. I knew Frank was disgusted with me, but at that point it felt like I couldn’t do one fucking thing right so it didn’t matter anyway.

  I downed the second shot, and then a third before turning for the dance floor. Vivian was near the stairs talking to someone, and I interrupted politely, tucking my arm around her waist.

  “I can tell you’re tired,” I told her.

  She stiffened at my words, turning her face my way. “You’re drinking.”

  “Yes,” I announced, throwing my arm aside and feeling the delicious numbness settle into my shoulder. “Yes, Miss Hale, I’m drinking. I’m drinking, and I’ve taken two pain killers, and I want to take you upstairs and fuck you now. Shall we?”

  I guessed that I was slurring by the appalled glances that I got from several people around us.

  She turned from me and stormed up the stairs, and I laughed as Max broke through the crowd around me.

  “Keaton, you should go ahead upstairs. I’d be glad to finish up the party,” he suggested.

  “I guess she was eager to get started,” I drawled, nodding toward the staircase. “That girl may not be able to act, but she sure can fuck.”

  “Go upstairs,” Robin clipped, and I heard her apologies to the people around us. “Max, can you help him?”

  “I’m fine,” I snapped, gripping the railing and taking one stair at a time. The distance from the ground to the second floor seemed to grow with every step, and I struggled to keep my balance.

  By the time I made it to our bedroom, I tried the handle, infuriated to find she’d locked the door.

  “Vivian!” Shouting, I slammed my hand on the door twice. “Unlock this fucking door!”

  The lock turned and she threw the door open, her worried eyes darting down the hallway. “You’re going to wake Charlie-”

  I slammed the door behind me, wrenching at my tie. “You were going to lock me out of my own room? Whose fucking house do you think this is?”

  She stood there staring at me all doe-eyed and dismayed, and all I could see over and over again in my mind was her with my brother.

  Luke and Vivian.

  His hands on her, her body beneath his, our baby between them-

  “There are so many people downstairs, and our family is here, how could you do this-”

  “Why is our family here? How? Because I flew them in here for your birthday. I threw this fucking party for you, and you’ve spent the entire goddamn night policing me, watching my every move like I’m your fucking child. I don’t need a warden, I need a wife. A wife who does whatever the fuck I tell her to do the moment I tell her to do it. Do you understand me?”

  I could barely speak. I knew the alcohol and pills were clouding my bloodstream, and my tongue was too thick in my mouth.

  “That’s called a slave, not a wife,” she whispered, tugging at the magnetic earrings from her ears. “And at this moment, I don’t want to be either to you.”

  Charlie burst into tears, her wailing causing the red lights on the video monitor to climb to the highest level. I turned for the door, and she ran for me, wrapping her hand around the handle.

  “I’ll get her-”

  “Keaton, please don’t. Please let me get her. Don’t pick her up-”

  I rushed at her, my blood boiling as I backed her against the door. “First you try to lock me out, you tell me you don’t want to be my wife, and now you try to keep my daughter away from me? You’re out of your fucking mind if you think you’ll ever take her away from me.”

  She turned her face away from mine as I growled, whimpering and flattening her entire body against the door.

  “Please stop... please Keaton, you can’t pick her up-”

  Nothing made sense. Nothing. The room closed in on me and suffocated me, and I panicked, the rage taking over me.

  I hadn’t felt that surge of feral anger since I’d found Kelsey fucking another man.

  I locked my hand around her neck, slamming her against the door. “You won’t take her away from me.”

  She gripped my wrists, her eyes darkening with anger.

  “Get your hands off of me!” she hissed. “You can’t pick her up, you’re too drunk to stand on your own two fucking feet! And you’re exactly like your father!”

  I released her and reared back, slapping her across the face.

  Time seemed to lag.

  When I blinked, she was sobbing, pleading with me, crouched against the door.

  Pleading.

  I stumbled backwards, realizing what I’d done.

  She gasped for air, crying out as she fumbled for the door handle. I staggered to the bed, falling forward as I watched her run into Charlie’s room through the monitor and gather our daughter into her arms.

  That was the last thing that I remembered.

  . . .

  As the universe would have it, the next morning, I woke up after lying on my shoulder all night long.

  I groaned, seething through the pain as I pulled myself to the bathroom. The bed was still made, and I was still fully clothed in the suit I’d worn to Vivian’s party.

  Vivian.

  “Christ...” I exhaled, barely able to stand. I somehow managed to finish pissing before dropping to my knees, vomiting into the toilet.

  My phone rang in the distance, but I couldn’t move.

  I had no idea what time it was, only that it was the Fourth of July and the sun was up.

  I tried to piece together the events of the night before, slowly remembering getting dressed for the party, rocking Charlie to sleep, dancing with Vivian...

  I hit her.

  The realization bent me in half, and I heaved, emptying everything in my stomach.

  I fucking hit her.

  How? I gripped the toilet paper holder and pulled myself to my feet, somehow dragging myself to the shower stall.

  One minute she’d been screaming at me, telling me that I couldn’t hold Charlie, and that I was exactly like my father.

  And the next minute...

  “Fuck,” I whispered, flattening my palms against the wet tile and bowing my head beneath the hot wa
ter stream.

  I was. I was exactly like my father.

  My phone rang again, and I slammed my hand against the faucet, reaching blindly for my towel.

  By the time I made it across the bathroom and back into the bedroom, the call had gone to voicemail.

  Seven missed calls, all from Frank.

  I glanced at the bedside table, realizing that the baby monitor was gone. Tucking the towel around my waist, I hurried to her closet, throwing open the doors.

  Her clothes were there.

  One of her dresser drawers was ajar, and I glanced inside, holding my breath.

  Empty.

  Nearly breaking into a run, I slammed the door open, nearly colliding with Frank.

  “Keaton, get some clothes on,” he began, gesturing to my bedroom. “I’ve been calling you all morning.”

  “Where are they? Did she take Charlie?” I fired, pushing past Frank and into the nursery.

  Charlie’s diaper bag was gone, as were many of her favorite toys.

  “She’s fine. She went somewhere safe,” he added.

  I lifted my eyes from the empty crib, trying to breathe evenly. “You know what I did?”

  He ran his hand through his hair, shaking his head sadly. “Kid, she’d got a black eye. It’s taking every last ounce of love that I have for you not to call the fucking cops and haul your ungrateful ass to jail. You hear me?”

  The vein in Frank’s forehead throbbed, and he rubbed his fingers against his temples. “Frank, I was fucked up. I was so fucked up last night, and-”

  “And you need help. Professional help. You’ve gotten this far with me holding your hand through every screw up. Through all the drugs and the booze. But not that girl,” he shouted, pointing into the hallway. “Not Vivian. You’re not going to destroy her. But you’re well on your way.”

  I dropped my elbows to the crib rail, covering my face with my hands. “I hurt her?” I begged, wanting to puke and cry and put a gun in my mouth, all at the same time.

  Frank nodded, his tentative hand moving to my shoulder. “You hurt her. Now, you gotta live with that. Get your clothes on, we’ll take this one step at a time, okay?”

  I couldn’t hear him.

  The blood rushed in my ears as guilt drowned me, held me under, refusing to let me up for air. I thought of that night in the kitchen, the night my father attacked my mother before breaking my nose.

  I was exactly like him.

  “Where is she?” I demanded, trying to even my breaths.

  Frank shook his head. “She’s back at the apartment with Luke. She’s safe.”

  I pushed past Frank, moving to our bedroom and slamming the door.

  I lost her.

  I lost her in the worst way possible.

  Survival, for me, often kicked in during the throes of a hangover, and I felt the adrenaline rushing through my body.

  Get dressed.

  Go to her.

  Make this right.

  “Who else knows?” I called through the door.

  Frank answered me immediately. “No one. Your mom, Robin, and her parents all left early this morning for the airport. She texted them goodbye.”

  “Will you take me to her?” I asked, buttoning my cargo shorts and pulling a white t-shirt over my head.

  “No, I won’t. She doesn’t want to see you,” he replied as I opened the door again. “She asked that you communicate with her through me.”

  I nodded, grabbing my keys, wallet, and phone. “Will you ask her again? Please?”

  Frank glanced at his watch, shaking his head. “Not today, kid. We’re going to the studio and working. We have a ton of shit to do, and Luke won’t be in to help, so we’re on our own.”

  “I can’t work. I can’t think,” I snapped, slipping my sunglasses on as we reached the bottom of the stairs. My head and shoulder throbbed in unison, and I moved straight to my office, rummaging in the first drawer for my pills.

  They were gone.

  “Where are my pain pills?” I demanded.

  Frank reached into his pocket, pulling out the pill bottle. “Two and a bottle of water,” he read, twisting the lid.

  “What, you think you’re going to monitor my fucking pills, like I’m some kind of an addict?”

  “I think you’re going to do whatever it takes to salvage your relationship with Vivian, and this is the first step.”

  I stared at him angrily. “I’m in pain, Frank-”

  “She’ll stop loving you, Keaton. Think, just for a horribly sober moment, what that will feel like. For the mother of your child to no longer love you, or trust you.”

  I dropped to my desk chair, resting my elbows on my knees and pressing my fingers to my forehead. It’d been a really long time since I’d cried, but I was losing it, between the pain in my body and the pain of knowing what I’d done to Vivian.

  “Where can I go?” I edged finally, lifting my face to Frank’s. I was glad for my glasses, knowing that they masked the moisture in my eyes. “Rehab? What? I need to see my daughter. I need to see Vivian,” I pleaded, feeling very much like the lost teenage kid that’d been sleeping in an old pick-up in Frank’s parking lot.

  Frank squatted next to me, flattening his palm over my back. “I love you, Keaton. You know you’re the closest thing I ever had to a son. You’ve made me so fucking proud, and you’ve disappointed the hell out of me. I’ve been through it all with you. I’m not leaving you now.”

  . . .

  She may stop loving you.

  Over and over Franks’ words played in my mind. I’d called her again and again, texted her, left long voicemails asking her to please just listen to my plan, I was going to get help, I was going to be the man that I promised her that I’d be.

  I was struggling with a rage that came out of nowhere.

  I’d already missed so much in the coma, and now she’d fled and taken my daughter with her. I knew the gravity of what I’d done, I knew she had every right to leave, but with every ignored call and text, I grew angrier and angrier.

  “You’ve got nothing to stand on, kid,” Frank said, turning the car into the rehab parking lot. “You got to do the hard work now and show her you mean what you say.”

  “I’d never put my hands on her like that again,” I burst, frustration eating at my very core.

  “She doesn’t know that.”

  “She should. If she really thinks I’d do that again, maybe she doesn’t love me as much as I fucking love her.”

  “You narcissistic little shit,” Frank grumbled, swinging into an empty spot to turn and glare at me. “Do you hear yourself? You’re blaming her for putting your hands around her neck and hitting her. You can’t rush this, and like I told you- you may end up alone when it’s all said and done. You have to get better for you, not for Vivian, not for anyone else. You have to want to be a healthier person.”

  My shoulder was on fire. I wanted a drink and a handful of pain pills.

  Instead, I reached for the door handle, nodding. “I know. I’m going to make this right.”

  “She’s staying with Luke.”

  I froze, turning to Frank as fresh rage washed over me in waves. “What do you mean, staying with Luke?”

  “She’s moving in with him. Until further notice. And he started the paperwork to buy the apartment from you, kid. Oh, you’re selling it to him, by the way. For a hell of a deal.”

  I wasn’t sure if Frank was testing me or goading me.

  “Frank,” I managed, lowering my eyes to focus on the lit-up seatbelt light, “is she sleeping with him?”

  “She wasn’t. I don’t know now. I know Luke is in love with her.”

  I cringed. I didn’t realize that I’d physically gripped my chest until my fingernails dug into the fist that I’d formed. “I can’t believe he’d do that to me.”

  “Fall in love? He didn’t do that to you, Keat. He knew going in that he loved something he could never have. Your family.”

  “Sounds like you’ve know
n a lot more than you’ve fucking told me,” I managed, trying to breathe through my aching heart.

  Frank pushed his sunglasses to his forehead, nodding. “I told you she wasn’t sleeping with him. She was devoted to you Keaton, until you fucked that up with booze and pills and being just plain mean. Now, here’s your chance. Knowing she may have moved on, knowing she may never want you again, knowing she has every right to walk away from all of this and limit- if not take away- your time with Charlie. Do you want to get out and get help? Or do you want to go back to your castle and drink yourself into oblivion? Your choice.”

  I yanked on the door handle without thinking, turning to glare at Frank. “Charlie deserves the kind of father I should be. I’ll always be her father. Whether or not Vivian and I end up together, I’ll be a better man for my baby.”

  I slammed the door, slipping my aviators over my eyes and heading for the rehab center.

  Broken

  V

  It had been nearly two in the morning by the time the cab dropped me off at our old apartment building. Charlie cried during the entire drive, and I tipped the driver twice as much as he deserved for doing everything that he could to make her more comfortable.

  It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

  I needed to get her inside and into the playpen that I knew Luke still had. I shouldered both her diaper bag and my own bag, carrying the heavy car seat to the door.

  When Greg, the night security guard saw me, he hurried to me right away. I was barely holding myself together, and his familiar face nearly made me burst into relieved tears.

  “Little late for a visit,” he said in a gentle tone, eyeing me closely. I could feel my face swelling, and hoped that it wasn’t too noticeable in the lobby. “Mr. Thorne is expecting you?”

  I was so distraught that, for a moment, I thought that he meant Keaton.

  Finally, I nodded, thanking him for taking my bags as we walked toward the elevator. “Luke will understand.”

  He rode with me to the penthouse, and I tried again to text Luke.

  Me: Are you awake? I’m at your door.