Inseparable

by Siobhan Davis

  “We only just found out. He never told us,” I admit.

  “What was the nature of your relationship with Ayden?” Ange asks getting straight to the point.

  “He was the first man I loved.”

  “Did he love you back?” Ange asks, and she’s not pulling any punches tonight.

  “I believe so, although he never said the words. Ayden was still in denial when I met him. He only joined the marines because he thought it would reinforce his masculinity, but he didn’t seem to understand they’re not mutually exclusive. He was so confused. I tried to help, but I only made things worse.”

  “How?” I jump in.

  He kneads his taut jaw, the overhead light glinting off the silver wedding band on his finger. “I’ve always been comfortable in my skin, and I’ve never doubted who I am. I came out when I was thirteen, and while it wasn’t all plain sailing, it wasn’t overly difficult either. My family was very supportive, and most of my friends stood by me. I tried to relate to Ayden’s situation, but I didn’t fully understand. I was young and in love and a bit naïve back then, because I can see now how it wasn’t black or white for Ayden. I didn’t quite grasp that at the time, and I thought he needed a little push to help him along.”

  A pained expression flits over his face. “I broke our relationship off just before he came home on leave. I loved him, I really loved him, but I couldn’t be with someone who was hiding their true self. I knew he had feelings for me, and I thought it’d be enough. I thought he’d come back ready to face who he was. I thought our love would be enough to convince him it was worth revealing who he was.” Tears cloud his eyes. “I never thought he’d kill himself, and I almost gave up on life myself when I heard the news. I spent the first couple years drowning in guilt, convinced I drove him to suicide.”

  Ange reaches across the table, taking his hand. “I did the same, because he returned home and discovered me in bed with Devin, and I thought I broke his heart.”

  Tom shakes his head, holding onto her hand. “He knew you two were in love, but he was jealous.” He looks me directly in the eye. “He never told me outright, but I knew he was in love with you too.”

  I can only nod over the painful swelling in my throat.

  “He wouldn’t have wanted any of us to suffer in the aftermath of his death. I may not have known him as long as you did, but I knew enough to see the man he was. The man he was becoming. He would not have wanted that.”

  “He wouldn’t,” Ange whispers. “And that’s why I know what he did that day was something he couldn’t control, because, if he’d been of sound mind, he would’ve realized that, and I don’t think he would’ve gone through with it, even if he had been thinking of it before. He was just in so much pain, he couldn’t see another way out. And I hate that he felt he had no choice, and I miss him every single day, but blaming ourselves won’t bring him back.”

  “No, it won’t, and it took me some time to come to the same conclusion. But I’m in a good place in my life. I recently got married to a great man, and we have a good life. Every year, I come back here to visit Ayden and to let him know I’ve never forgotten him. He left an indelible mark on my heart, and I only wish I’d had the chance to get to know him better.”

  “I’m glad he met you,” Ange says. “I’m glad he got to experience love. To know he wasn’t alone in Afghanistan comforts me.”

  “Thank you for telling us,” I say. “We’ll never know exactly why he did it, when he did it, but this helps bring some closure.”

  And as I make love to my fiancée later that night, my heart is freer, my conscience is clear, and the future is looking brighter.

  EPILOGUE

  Angelina - 5 Years Later

  “Ayden,” Mom hollers, “get down from that tree!” My stepdad joins my husband and me in laughing as we watch her race across the backyard to drag our precocious three-year-old down from the tree.

  “I keep telling her it’s pointless,” I say, pushing myself up off the chair, groaning as the familiar ache spreads across my lower back. “He’s got mine and Devin’s genes—he’s a born mischief-maker.”

  “This one better be quieter,” Devin says, sliding his arms around me from behind, and caressing my protruding belly. “Or she’ll blow a gasket.”

  “She will not blow a gasket,” Mom says, stepping back up onto the deck. Ayden is clinging to her back like a little spider monkey. She swats my husband across the back of his head. “I’ve had plenty of practice with hell-raisers. And you two turned out all right,” she teases.

  “That we did.” Devin lifts Ayden off Mom’s shoulders, holding him up horizontally and flying him through the air.

  Ayden giggles. “I’m flying, Gramma!” he shrieks, wiggling his hands in the air. “Again, Daddy! I wanna fly again!”

  Devin indulges him, running up and down the deck with Ayden elevated above him like a mini Superman in the making. Watching Devin with our son is an absolute joy to behold. There is no more attentive, more devoted dad in the world. He’s strict with him on manners and routine, but he knows how to ensure he has fun, how not to clip his wings. Ayden has a lively personality, and there’s no doubt he’s a handful, but he’s the sweetest, smartest, happiest child going.

  We’ve brought Ayden to Devin Junior’s grave a couple times since we moved him closer. He doesn’t quite understand it yet, but he will in time. All he knows is his older brother is an angel, watching over him from heaven.

  I was a hot mess during my pregnancy and delivery with Ayden. Old fears returned to haunt me, and, at every turn, I was convinced something was wrong. I was more closely monitored because of my previous pregnancy, and they conducted a fetal echocardiography during my second trimester—which came back clear—but I still couldn’t relax. I was petrified the same thing would happen again. I’m sure the doctor was sick of the sight of me by the time I delivered.

  This pregnancy has been different. Because Ayden’s delivery was uncomplicated, and he came out all pink and healthy, I’ve managed to chill out, so this experience has been more enjoyable. I’m not going to lie and say I don’t have fears, because I’m still plagued with them, but it’s within more normal confines. Every parent worries their baby will be fine, and we’re no exception.

  But Devin has been amazing—never chastising me for my irrational fears and always listening, always supporting, always reassuring me.

  “How’s business?” Jon asks Devin from his position in front of the grill.

  “Booming,” Devin replies, and I smile proudly at him. While it was all totally Devin’s idea, I was delighted when he quit his job to set up his own security consultancy company. It’s less dangerous, and the hours are better. Besides, we need the flexibility now we have another baby on the way and I’m entering the second year of my PhD. Life is hectic, but I couldn’t be any happier.

  The doorbell chimes, and Mom scurries off to answer it.

  “Lissa!” Ayden squeals. “Lemme down, Daddy!”

  Devin places our son’s feet on the ground just as the triplets come racing out onto the deck.

  “Melissa, Melody, and Mason!” Mariah screams after them. “Stop running!”

  Her face is flushed and red as she joins us on the deck. Cody is behind her, weighed down with bags. Devin pulls out two chairs for us. “Ladies, rest your feet.”

  Mariah waddles to the table, flopping into the chair with a relieved sigh. “Thank you, Devin. I’m like a demon today. The three amigos were awake at the crack of dawn,” she says, gesturing toward her triplets who are now playing on the swing and slide set with Ayden. “And the twin minxes in my belly were having an energetic game of football in the middle of the night.” She yawns, as if to prove her point.

  “I can’t believe you’re going to have five kids under the age of five,” I admit, shuddering at the thought. “And you’re not even thirty yet!”

&
nbsp; “Oh, God,” Cody says. “Please don’t remind us. You’ll be lucky to see us this time next year. We’ll be run ragged.”

  “You better not be too busy to finish the treehouse, slacker,” Devin teases. He concocted the plan with Cody a couple of months back, and I think it’s sweet he wants to replicate our childhood treehouse in our own backyard, so the next generation can have as much fun as we had. They’ve started building it, but it’s nowhere near finished.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll pull my weight. The kids wouldn’t have it otherwise.” He rolls his eyes, before leaning down to kiss his wife’s cheek. “Besides, we’ll need it with our expanding family; otherwise, we’ll take over when we come to visit. Not that I’m complaining,” he hurries to add, kissing Mariah briefly on the lips. “I’ve always wanted a big family, and we’re blessed.”

  “Me too,” Devin says, standing behind me and angling his body into mine. “I was disappointed we weren’t having twins.”

  “I wasn’t!” I blurt. “One at a time is all I can manage.” I touch my friend’s arm, smiling, so she knows it’s a compliment. “I’m no Mariah.”

  “Aw, you’re too sweet.” My friend leans in to hug me. “And feel free to borrow ours anytime your house seems too quiet. Our lot will rectify that in seconds.”

  Melissa emits a loud shriek right that second, as if perfectly timed. “See what I mean?” Mariah deadpans. We all look out into the yard. Ayden has his arms wrapped around Melissa, and he’s trying to kiss her.

  “Oh boy,” Devin says, smirking. “I think we’re in trouble.”

  “It’s Ange and Devin part two,” Mom says, her tone nostalgic. “They’re so sweet together, just like you two were at that age.”

  Devin drapes himself around me, sweeping my hair aside to plant a delicate kiss on my neck. I shiver all over. My insane addiction to Devin hasn’t lessened in the slightest. Add in pregnancy hormones and I’m relentlessly horny. His touch ignites fireworks inside me, and I can’t get enough. The minute Ayden is asleep at night, I pounce on my husband, although the bigger I’m getting, the more creative I have to be.

  “I hope Ayden’s as lucky,” Devin says, “because there’s no greater feeling than getting to spend the rest of your life with the girl you’ve grown up loving.”

  Mariah slaps Cody’s arm. “Why don’t you say stuff like that to me?”

  “Thanks, man,” Cody faux glares at Devin. “You’ve gone from bad ass to pansy ass in the flick of an eye.”

  “If loving my woman makes me a pansy ass, then I’ll wear that crown with pride,” my husband retorts. I yank his head down, smashing my lips against his. He doesn’t shy away, kissing me deeply, and if we didn’t have guests, I’d straddle his lap and have my wicked way with him. But we do, so I reluctantly break the kiss, pulling away.

  “Your mom’s right,” Mariah says, smiling. “You two are still so sweet together.”

  I’m not sure the thoughts filling my mind could in any way be considered sweet right now, but I’ll accept the compliment.

  After Mariah, Cody, and the kids left, Mom took Ayden upstairs for his bath and bedtime story while Devin and I left to meet Tom at the cemetery. We’ve kept in touch since that first meeting, mainly through phone contact, but we make time to catch up with him every year when he comes back to visit Ayden’s grave. I love that Tom still does that, even though he lives out of state and he’s moved on with his life. It only further highlights what a wonderful man he is. Every time I ponder what the future might have held for them as a couple, it makes me so incredibly sad that Ayden missed out on that.

  Ayden has missed out on so much, and it was all so needless. He also left a video recording for his parents, and we’ve talked with them at length about his revelation. They were shocked, like we were, but accepting of it. It’s heartbreaking that Ayden didn’t feel like he could tell any of us he was gay. If he had only opened up, if one of us had had the chance to talk it through with him, things could’ve worked out so differently.

  The frustration I feel at the futile waste of a beautiful life will never leave me, but I’ve learned to move on. We’ve had to.

  Tom is already at the cemetery by the time we arrive. His husband Sean is with him, and we exchange hugs. “I can’t believe it’s ten years,” Tom says, shaking his head sadly. “Where has the time gone?”

  “I know. It’s flown by.”

  “How’s little Ayden?” he asks.

  “Wonderful,” Devin replies. “He’s an amazing kid.” He nods toward the tombstone. “His namesake would be proud.”

  I hook my arm in Devin’s as we survey the new gravestone. We sought Ayden’s parents’ permission to upgrade the marble marker. Now it proudly displays Devin’s infinity design and this line: “The bond of true friendship never dies. Always in our hearts.”

  I’ll always acutely feel Ayden’s loss. No day will pass where he isn’t present in my thoughts and in my heart, but I’ve learned to live in the moment. To appreciate how fantastic my life is.

  My eyes dart to the tattoo on both our wrists. When we got inked all those years ago, I believed the tattoo symbolized the permanency of our connection, that our friendship would outlast time. When Ayden died, and I left, I viewed the tattoo in a different light. Those tiny, looping fine lines Devin had drawn, the ones I had once felt were intricately interwoven into every facet of our lives, looked delicate and feeble and not strong enough to sustain pressure. Now, I look at the symbol as proof that the lines may bend and shake, may quiver and falter, may even rip and tear, but they grow back, stronger and firmer and more powerful than before. Because the bond of true friendship does outlast time.

  Leaning up on tiptoes, I kiss my gorgeous husband, confident that we’ll be together forever. And as I look up at the sky, sending my love heaven bound, I know the fearless awesome-threesome will be reunited again one day.

  The End

  Please keep reading! I’ve enclosed a sample of another one of my contemporary romances for your enjoyment.

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  If you need to talk to someone regarding suicide, please call the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention in the US at 1-888-333-AFSP (2377) or via email: info@afsp.org

  If you need to talk to someone regarding your sexuality, please call the LGBT National Hotline in the US at 1-888-843-4564.

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  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I give my absolute all to every book I write, but I truly poured my heart and soul into writing Inseparable, and I hope that came across as you read Ayden, Devin, and Angelina’s story. I’ve cried writing every book to date, but I was an emotional mess writing this book, especially part three, and I still well up every time I read over it. I really hope you had an emotional connection with it too, and if I’ve done my job correctly, you will have felt all the feels.

  I don’t usually draw too much on my own personal experiences when writing my stories, but with this book, I did in two ways. A few months after I got together with my husband (then my boyfriend) someone close to him committed suicide. As long as I live, I will never forget the moment he found out. I was with him, and we were in a very busy pub enjoying a night out. The events are very similar to what happened when Devin got the call from Ange’s mom in the diner, and I hope I managed to convey the emotion of that scene, because I still feel a pain in my heart when I think back to that day.

  Someone I care about came out as gay in his early twenties, after spending years trying to deny who he was. Over the years, we’ve spoken about his experiences and his feelings during hi
s teenage years, and I’ve drawn, somewhat, from that insight to help me create certain aspects of Ayden’s character.

  It saddens me enormously that suicide rates continue to accelerate and that some people still deal with prejudice because of their sexual preferences. To reach a place in your life where you feel like you have no other option but to remove yourself from this world is truly heartbreaking.

  I hope I have dealt with all the difficult topics in this book appropriately. Although I write fiction, and it’s often deliberately dramatic and angsty, it’s never my intention to gloss over serious subject matter, and I try to present things as authentically as I can within the confines of the story.

  I’m very proud of this book, and I genuinely hope you enjoyed reading it.

  As always, I have a wonderful group of people who support me that I need to thank. In no particular order: Kelly Hartigan, Lola Verroen, Robin Harper, Tamara Cribley, Jennifer Gibson, Deirdre Reidy, Sinead Davis, Angelina Smith, Dana Lardner, Danielle Smoot (keep those play by plays coming girl!), Karla Carroll, and my wonderful street and ARC teams. I’m very grateful to bloggers and book reviewers the world over who do so much to help spread the word about my books.

  Massive thanks to you, dear lovely reader, for reading this book and continuing to support my work. I couldn’t do this without you, and I really appreciate each and every reader who has taken a chance on one of my books.

  Thank you, Trev, Cian, and Callum. You put up with my mood swings, my unsocial working hours, my conversations with imaginary characters, a messy house, and crappy dinners, without complaining too much! Ha. Love you all.

  KEEP READING, PLEASE!!

  IMPORTANT NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  Are you aware that if you borrow a book from Kindle Unlimited and read in Page Flip mode the author doesn’t get paid? Amazon has recently confirmed this to authors, and there is no indication as to whether they intend to fix this or not. I hate mentioning this, but as my page reads continue to decline (despite the fact I have way more books enrolled in Kindle Unlimited), I may need to revisit my participation in the program going forward. I would never ask any reader to stop reading in Page Flip mode, as reading is highly personal, but I do want to ensure every reader is fully aware of all the facts, so they can make their own informed decision. Thanks for your attention.