Of course the coffee table had to stay, it hadn’t been moved since he put it there when he bought the place. It was hand carved by his boss, Dax. Yep, the big guy carved wood when he wasn’t inking and piercing people. Dax had shaped it by hand, from one single piece of oak. Basically a solid rectangle, elevated only two inches off the floor by claw feet he’d painstakingly cut in. It was truly a sight to behold, all delicate scrolls and details, but heavy as a motherfucker.
Heading out the front door for her first load of therapy equipment, Gus added over her shoulder, “Oh, and make up the guest room. I have no other clients scheduled, and I kenneled my cat. I’m all yours for as long as you need me.”
Augusta was making multiple trips, bringing in her usual tools—punching bags, gloves, canvases, paints, clay. Then some that were unexpected— handcuffs, restraints, blindfolds. If he didn’t know better, he’d think her a dominatrix, but those were simply the tools of forcing him to express himself without his fists, accept being out of control as a safe state, not one dictated by anger and fear.
Some may scoff at her methods, but he was still a free man thanks to her unique approach. He had some fantastic works of art and martial arts skills to show for it, too. She taught him to be physical without being angry or violent, and to express himself through other mediums and outlets.
She was also somewhat of a sex therapist, but it wasn’t, nor would it ever be, part of their relationship. He’d never asked her about that area of her life or business, but last time he needed her, she brought it up.
Gus was a pro at reading him and could tell it was somewhat of a barrier between them. That elephant in the room so to speak. She assured him that she never had sex or sexual contact with any client, that wasn’t what she was about. If that’s what a client thought, she sent them packing.
She’d never given him even an inkling she was like that, but rumors would always circulate around a pretty woman with what appears to be sex dungeon equipment.
Walker didn’t want to think of Gus like that, but it’s hard when you hear stuff not to let it tint your view no matter how open minded you think you are.
“Whew, finally, the last load,” Augusta mumbled to herself, turning to Walker, “How long since your last drink?” Gus began dumping out the alcohol he’d gathered while waiting patiently for his answer.
“Right before I called you.”
Shaking loose the last amber drops clinging to the final bottle, she tossed it in the recyclables. Turning to Walker with her hands on her hips, she asked, “Okay, so, what are your three items?”
Lowering his head, he indicated the lone object left on the coffee table—a torn pair of pink underwear. Following Walker’s nod, Gus looked from him to the bubble gum colored satin, and back to him with her confusion evident.
“But there’s only one thing, what does it symbolize and what represents the other two?”
“That,” he replied, indicating the panties, “is all three.”
“Oh boy,” Augusta breathed.
CHAPTER NINE
EARLY OCTOBER
ERIKA
“Are you sure you want to do this love?” Andy posed the question once again.
Not that he hadn’t already asked her more than a hundred times since Erika informed him of her plans—repeating it as they boarded his private plane, as they landed, as the car service took them to their hotel. Even now, as the car returned to whisk her away on what he was sure was an ill-fated mission, he felt compelled to ask again.
As much as he tried to resist, and to Marco’s adamant opposition, Andy read the file his investigator compiled on Walker. Along with the new info he provided him weekly since, he surmised it would be a bad idea for Erika to show her hand at this point in time.
Andy was confident he could stall a DNA test of a baby born within the confines of his marriage, almost indefinitely, and most assuredly until the other side ran out of money. However, he couldn’t stall Erika’s conscience.
She would never deny who the father of her unborn child was, would never even entertain listing unknown. A DNA test wouldn’t be required if both parties agreed to paternity. However, he wasn’t above insinuating it could be his if he could save her from more pain.
He and Erika had signed divorce papers, at her insistence, but Andy managed to convince her to wait until they returned home to file them with the clerk. She bowed to his wishes, but only because she didn’t want to fight him and possibly delay her mission. With the difficulties she was having with the pregnancy, the doctor just cleared her for this short trip, with her solemn vow she’d take it easy for the duration.
If Chuck, his investigator, was worth the hefty fee Andy paid to keep him on retainer, then Walker was in no place to accept responsibility for that ill-fated night five months ago. He had spiraled into a booze fueled rage, had even been picked up once by local police. But Chuck, acting on Andy’s instructions, quietly greased the right palms to make it go away.
There was no way in hell Andy would let Walker re-visit a place that would destroy him, and by virtue Erika, beyond repair. If Walker ended up back in prison, back in his old life, the vibrant and fierce Erika he’d known since eighth grade, would cease to exist. He’d be damned if he’d mourn his best friend while she yet drew breath simply because Walker was too stubborn to listen to reason.
Erika gathered her packet of papers and her courage, answering Andy in the affirmative, and entered the backseat of the car. Andy’s heart fractured as the car disappeared from his sight. He was already mourning the piece of Erika he knew would die when she got to Walker’s house and realized the shape he was in, and that there was a woman in residence.
Chuck had informed Andy of the female, Augusta Thorne, just yesterday. Licensed as a martial arts instructor, but the info on her didn’t add up to the local gym bunny she appears to be on paper. Further digging revealed she spent years studying human behavior and her “clients” leaned more toward troubled individuals instead of muscle heads. Near as he could tell, she was a therapist of sorts. Not licensed by any state in any of the traditional fields, but if the people Chuck interviewed could be believed, she was a miracle worker. More than one previous client sang her praises loud and proud. Crediting her with everything from their sexual recovery to their very lives.
Andy prayed she was as talented as was rumored because Walker sure as hell needed a miracle. But he also hoped the arena and treatment Walker was engaged in, if any, leaned more toward his anger and drinking, than any sexual therapy, as that would crush Erika. Chuck had assured him she was on the up and up, had never had an inappropriate relationship with a client, and paid her taxes on time.
Chuck could get no information on what, if anything, she was retained to do for Walker. She could just be his new girlfriend for all they knew. That would make her the sixth woman to enter his life, and possibly his bed, since Andy’s investigator had been dispatched to gather intel on Walker.
Erika had refused the read the reports or even acknowledge their existence. That was the only time in their lives together Erika had expressed sincere and profound disappointment in Andy, and it was a bitter pill for him to choke down. Which is one of the reasons he had to allow her to follow her own course of action in this. The unknown factor of the role this Augusta was playing in Walker’s life was eating Andy up inside, thus the reason he was staring down the road where the brake lights of the Lincoln has already disappeared.
Andy may have agreed not to mention the investigator to Erika again, but he didn’t agree not to investigate. He would still gather as much information as he could, so he would be ready for any worst case scenario that was thrown their way, even if he ended up with egg on his face. Better that than not being prepared. He had tried to reign himself in, Marco tried too, but he was a protector by nature and a lawyer by choice. He would not be caught unaware, it wasn’t in his DNA or his personality.
***
WALKER
“Shit, I’m sorry, I reall
y am.”
No apologies necessary, it happens. Hazard of the job. I call dibs on your shower, though, you’ll have to wait.”
Walker definitely had prouder moments in his life, but, if he were honest, he had way worse too.
A few weeks into therapy and he hadn’t had a drop to drink, but his stomach was still on rebellion. Most likely the “m” word brought on this revolt. He was handcuffed to a chair while Gus forced him to acknowledge that Erika was married, among other things. There was a lot of yelling. He was yelling, she was yelling, and when at last he uttered the word that was like death upon his taste buds, he lost his lunch all over Gus and himself.
She’d had him cuffed onto one of her chairs that looked more like it belonged in a medieval dungeon or some S&M play room. It was her way of taking his control away and keeping him from storming off and avoiding the truth, like he was likely to do when shit got real. Luckily, she unlocked one hand and tossed him the keys before making a run for the only functional shower.
Just in case he didn't have enough shit going on in his life already, the pipes burst on the other side of the house, effectively shutting down the guest bathroom, the den/office and laundry room. With the guest room flooded, that left Gus in his room, and him on the couch, which had been relocated to the hall to make room for therapy equipment. He had to fight like hell to get her to take his room, but he couldn’t let her sleep on the couch, not after all she’s done for him.
As Walker unlocked his other hand, he had a new sense of hope, microscopic as it may be. Even covered in his own vomit, he felt…good about things for the first time since that fateful night. Well, good was an overstatement, but he felt better than all hope lost. With the clarity to objectively assess the situation, Walker admitted he overreacted, not letting Erika get a word in edgewise. He was mean and violent, a total dick bag.
Taking a guided tour with Gus through the entirety of the time he's known Erika, made him realize something wasn’t right. There’s no way she’s the type of person to cheat, nor would she trick him into it. Even with the evidence, from her own mouth, no less, to the contrary, there was something he had to be missing. He loved her, madly, deeply, and he would have known if she were that type of person.
He would've known damn it.
The most impactful thing that heralded his breakthrough was a pair of underwear. One item instead of three, because he finally admitted, that not only was Erika his current trigger, but she is also his calm place and the thing he couldn’t live without. No matter what else she may or may not be, she was his. In his heart anyway, always has been, and she always would be.
Now, he just had to get his shit together and be a man she could count on, one worthy of the love she professed for him that night.
That night, oh that night.
Not a day, not a minute, not a second, goes by that it isn’t on his mind, both the oh-so-good, and the oh-so-bad. The thought of not being able to be inside her again gave him fucking heart palpitations. Now that he experienced her, all of her, there was no way he could live his life any other way.
The tattoo would never again be enough.
He needed to wake up next to her every morning, and make love to her each night. Kiss away every tear and savor each laugh. Panic ripped through him at the thought of that not being a possibility because of his own actions. Walker couldn't accept that, not yet, maybe never. He had to win her back, but first he needed to get healthy, both physically and mentally. He had to be someone worthy of her love before he could ever begin to earn it.
There was still a rough road ahead, a long way to go before he could be deserving of the forgiveness he must solicit, from himself first, then from Erika. The priority was to have his anger under control before he entered her orbit. He would never again lay his hands on her in anger, causing that fear in her eyes, fear of him. Sure, he hadn’t struck her, but tomato, tomahto. He still handled her roughly, and touched her when anger was in the driver’s seat. Same fucking thing in his book, and in her eyes.
He vowed right then and there, vomit and all, that he would not allow his issues to steal any more of his years—years he could spend happy, years he could spend with Erika. Until he was to a place where he was confident he was there, he couldn’t run to her like he craved. He couldn’t beg her to tell him what she once pled with him to listen to, forgive the unforgivable and to divorce…that person, and marry him.
A sliver of doubt crept into his now clearer mind as he was cleaning up his sick and wishing his clothes weren’t soaked in it.
What would he do if she said no? If she couldn’t forgive him? Wouldn’t let him bask in her light ‘til the end of his days?
Then it hit him, that’s what he needed to prepare for, even though the thought made him wretch, that’s where he would find healing. If he could get to a place where no matter what her answer, no matter the pain, he could manage his anger, he would be deserving of her. Even if she wouldn’t have him.
Gus emerged from the shower wrapped in a towel with her clothes in hand. Walker barely took note of her exposed body. “You go shower, I grabbed my clothes. I’ll dress out here. I figured you didn’t want to wait, so go ahead.”
Walker didn't think twice and headed to the shower, he was grateful that Gus didn’t make him wait another minute. One of the selling points of this house was the master bathroom. It was completely open to the master bedroom, practically a part of the room rather than separate. He could recline on his bed and see the shower and the tub. He’d always pictured lying there and watching Erika bathe.
However, at the moment, it was inconveniencing both Gus, and himself. In order for her to dress in private, he’d either have to wait to get the puke off, which was starting to dry, or they’d have to see each other full monty. While she’d seen him at his worst, and even naked a time or two, being naked at the same time, and sober, would cross an imaginary line and would make things awkward. Gus being as intuitive as she was knew that would be the case for him. She wasn’t ashamed of her body, but she always did what’s best for him, and he loved her for it.
***
ERIKA
Erika bid the driver to stay in the front seat and let herself out of the car. Her legs almost gave out when she looked up at the front of Walker’s house. It was time for him to know everything. About Andy, about their marriage, their arrangement, the pending divorce, and the baby—his baby. Placing her hand on her stomach, she figured that would most likely be the first thing he noticed. Of course, the inclement weather had her wrapped in a raincoat which concealed her condition fairly well to most casual observers, however, those who knew her well couldn’t miss it.
Would he let her explain? She wondered. Would she get to say the words she failed to utter that night? Words that he had refused to allow her in the months since? Shaking her head, she cleared those negative thoughts. She would not give in to doubt. Even if he denied her voice, she reached back into the car and grasped the manila folder, clutching it to her chest, he wouldn’t deny this.
In that folder was basically her entire existence, the parts that mattered anyhow. Copies of her marriage certificate, the letter Andy wrote when he presented her with the divorce papers, the legal agreement of their terms, the divorce petition, the letter she wrote to Walker the very same night they made love, and, she reached into her coat pocket and retrieved the most precious part of her life—the ultrasound picture. Tucking it into the back of the folder, in case he wouldn’t let her explain or failed to notice her widened waistline, she took an unsteady step onto the cobbled walk.
Before she lost her courage, she rang the bell. Loosening her coat belt, as her nerves made her feel constricted and tears threatened, she waited for the door to open. Erika prayed she didn’t lunge at him when he appeared and she got a long overdue look at his face. A face she loved. When she heard the deadbolt disengage, her breathe hitched in anticipation and fear. She thought to turn and run back to the shelter of the car. No matter how much she told h
erself she could handle whatever waited for her on the other side, it didn’t mean it wouldn’t still hurt like a bitch. But she was wrong, what met her was far worse than anything her mind had conjured up.
Beautiful, wet, and half-naked. That’s what opened the door. Instead of a happy Walker, or devastated Walker, she was greeted by a half-naked and very gorgeous woman. While she stood there trying to force oxygen into her starved lungs, the woman, wrapped only in a towel spoke, “Can I help you?”
Shattered.
So shattered she was sure it was audible as the pieces of her heart rained down on the porch.
She was absolutely, utterly, and irreparably broken. Even so, she must do what needs be done. Gathering herself as quickly as possible, she spoke as soon as the tears clogging her throat allowed her access to her voice. Trying not to jump to conclusions, Erika finally inquired, “I’m here to see Walker, is he home?”
And just when she thought things could get no worse, that she couldn’t possibly shatter again, words penetrated her brain that proved her assumption wrong. Words that took a sledgehammer to the tiny pieces of her splintered heart that lay at her feet and pulverized them to dust, right there on Walker's from porch.
“Yep, he’s in the shower. Come on in and wait. He should be done any second now.” The beautiful dripping wet female turned and yelled toward Walker’s room as Erika entered what used to be his living room. “Walker, you almost done in there? You have a visitor.”
Indelible You (Imagine Ink) Page 7