by Carina Adams
The more he spoke, painting the vivid and disturbing image, as if he’d seen it actually happen, the more my heart ached. I couldn’t imagine my life without Grady. The pain of not knowing my son, of not hugging him and holding him whenever I wanted, would have been too much to handle.
I shook my head at the man in front of me, realizing he’d left out the game changer. “You overlooked one major detail of your own,” I forced out, surprised at how sad I sounded. “You, Dec. You would never have let anything like that happen to me. You would have done whatever it took to make sure none of that ever happened. You would have protected me.”
Dec rushed toward me, slamming his hands onto the small wooden table between us. “What do you think I did? Why do you think I spent the last twelve years of my life behind bars, Gabby? The thought of you in that place—” He glanced away, swallowing hard. The frustration disappeared, and in its place was sadness. “I told you once that I would do whatever it took to protect you. And I did. Fuck, Gabs!” He swallowed roughly. When he looked at me again, his features were set in a determined line. “I will continue to do whatever it takes to protect you. Always.”
The blood drained from my face, and my stomach muscles tensed as the realization hit me. He was right. I’d never looked at it that way. I’d never even tried to see it from his point of view.
“Dec.” The word was no more than a whisper, but I knew he heard me.
He’d sacrificed so much for me. What could I say to that? I ran my tongue across my lips, unsure where to begin. I would spend the rest of my life thanking him. I would have spent the last twelve showing my gratitude, if he had let me in.
Then I realized he hadn’t answered the damn question. I wasn’t sure I even wanted to hear what he was going to say, but I needed to know. “If that’s what happened, why force me away? Why wouldn’t you let me come visit?”
Dec pushed himself off the table and stepped back, crossing his arms again. “They were holding me for arraignment and watching everything I did like hawks. I was the man who had killed your boyfriend, the father of your unborn baby. Why would you visit him? You don’t think you coming to see me every week would raise serious red flags? I couldn’t have them look closer at you. They had their murderer. They had their conviction. But why tempt fate?”
I could only stare at him. He was right, of course. It made complete sense. Then something else he had said hit me. “You said there were two reasons. A simple one and a not-so-simple one. If that was the complicated reason, what’s the simple one?”
He shook his head. “That was the simple one.”
My eyebrows rose before I could stop them. “Okay, then what was the complicated one?”
He took a deep breath. “I hoarded every single letter you sent. I wouldn’t read them when they were delivered. Instead, I tucked them between the pages of a book and hid them under my mattress. When I had a rough day, one where it was almost unbearable to be stuck inside, I’d pull them out and read through them. In chronological order. Toward the end, it took almost all day to read them all.
“I never didn’t want to see you. I craved your visits like a junkie craves meth—I needed them to survive. Every time I watched you leave without me, it would have destroyed me. I would have gotten physically sick as I counted down the minutes until I would see you again.
“I didn’t know how many years I was going to get, but I did know it would be longer than either of us wanted. I would be one of the men who got to visit with his family once a week, seeing only the parts they wanted me to see. Then it hit me. You were out here, living your life. One day, you would get sick of making the drive, or you would meet some douche and realize you didn’t need to come visit my loser ass anymore.
“Every week I watched these sad old men sitting at the table, staring at the door, waiting for a visitor who never came. Not one visitor in all the time I was there. It’s fucking devastating. I knew one day that would be me.
“I couldn’t handle the thought of it. Not knowing if each time I saw you was going to be the last time. The day you decided not to come would have been the end for me. It would have destroyed me. Ending it on my terms was bad enough. I could pretend though, make up reasons why you weren’t there. I wouldn’t have made it if we’d ended it on your terms.”
I could feel his pain and worry radiating from him in waves. My heart ripped in two, finally understanding what I’d never been able to see. When I had all the pieces, it made one hell of a heartbreaking portrait. Declan didn’t blame me. He didn’t hate me. I pushed my chair back and hurried toward him, never breaking eye contact, needing to touch him.
I palmed his whiskered cheek. “Declan?” The quiver in my voice was evident as a tear fought its way out and slid down my cheek. “I would have come every goddamn visiting day. I would have been there, with Grady, every chance I had to see you.” I swallowed roughly, trying to get rid of the lump in my throat. “I love you, Declan Michael Callaghan. I have for as long as I can remember. I would never have forgotten you. I will never forget everything you’ve done for me.”
He watched me, confusion clear in his eyes. It wasn’t how I’d planned to tell him, and it was probably the dumbest move I could have made, but he needed to know. His soul felt as tortured and as damaged as mine had been, and I needed him to know he wasn’t alone. He’d never been alone.
It was time we told his brother’s ghost to fuck off once and for all.
Chapter Twelve
Declan
My heart pounded an erratic beat, letting me know that I was alive, but my hands were so cold that I wasn’t sure that my blood was actually flowing. I couldn’t catch my breath. Each inhale burned my lungs as if I were on an uphill rough-terrain run and not standing in Gabby’s kitchen, baring my soul.
When I’d let myself in and made myself at home a few hours ago, I had no intention of spewing all this shit and slicing open these old wounds. Not yet, at least. It was all shit we needed to talk about, but we could have eased into it.
But no. Apparently I still went full throttle from the starting line. Rip the Band-Aid off in one fell swoop.
And Gabby, being fucking Gabs, couldn’t just hear what I had to say and process it like a normal human being. No, she had to take what I said and drop her own bombs. Go big or go home.
She looked up at me with those captivating baby blues, the ones that had snared me in her trap years ago, and said the words I knew I’d never get sick of hearing. “I love you, Declan Michael Callaghan. I have for as long as I can remember.”
My hands flew to her tiny face, practically dwarfing it as I held her cheeks. My eyes bore into hers, looking for any sign of insincerity. Self-doubt flooded me. Of course Gabby loved me. There was a time when it had seemed as though the world had turned against her and I was all she had. She loved me like a friend, like the brother she’d never had. After everything I’d just told her, there was no doubt those feelings had come bubbling back to the surface.
I loved her back. My love was anything but brotherly though. Even after all this time, she was the one woman I desired. The things I longed to do to her, the way my body reacted to hers, was not how a good friend behaved.
I wanted her words to mean more than they did, but wishing for something didn’t make it happen. She’d said those words to me before, more times than I could count, but they’d always seemed like an afterthought, something friends say to each other. This time, it felt like so much more than that.
She’ll never love you.
Dusty’s words slammed into my mind before I could shut him out. Sometimes I welcomed his memories. At least the masochistic part of me did, because I needed to remember what a douche he’d been. But right now, he had no place here. The coffee I’d had earlier soured in my stomach as the flashback started.
Gabby’s laugh floated down the stairs, yanking my attention away from the AP Government textbook I was supposed to be reading.
The class was bullshit. Our teacher was under the pathetic delusion t
hat his students not only didn’t have a social life, but that we also weren’t taking any other classes. It wasn’t so bad for me, considering I was only a sophomore, but the seniors in the class were more than stressed. This final would determine if they were going to graduate in a few weeks or not.
I’d pass without a problem. My paper was a solid B. With a few more examples and a little more fluff, it would be an A.
I didn’t want to study right now though. I wanted to go upstairs and find out why Gabby and Fi were giggling like eight-year-olds gushing over the Backstreet Boys. Wait, did parents let their second-graders listen to that junk? Jesus, I hoped not. No decent parent would traumatize their kid like that.
Another shriek of laughter, and I had to physically force myself to stay where I was. My fingers closed around my pen, fingernails digging into my palm. I’d missed that laugh. I missed being the one to make her laugh. Shit, I just fucking missed her.
Sophomore year had dragged by. Only because I’d spent more time avoiding Gabby than I’d spent with her. It had been hard at first, especially since she was in most of my classes and at my house every time I turned around. I tried my hardest not to make it obvious, but I could tell by the way she’d frown at me that she knew something between us had shifted. I hated seeing her disappointment when I found somewhere else to be or something else to do.
To hell with it. I pushed off the couch and took the stairs two at a time then found Fi’s door wide open. I leaned my shoulder against the frame, watching them lie on my sister’s bed, heads together, staring at a magazine. Probably another wedding-themed one. Fi’s boyfriend had proposed a few weeks before, and she’d immediately transformed from a professional and brilliant woman into an obsessed crazy person who talked about nothing but wedding dresses and china patterns.
Gabs glanced up and caught me staring. “Hey!” She beamed at me as she hopped off the bed and flitted toward me in a way only Gabby could. She wrapped her arms around my waist before I could object, pulling me close. The sweet scent of strawberries surrounded me as she hugged tighter. “God, would you stop growing?” She laughed. “Yesterday we were practically the same size.”
Giving in, I circled her in my arms, chuckling at how absurd she was. I’d grown almost seven inches over the last few months, and thanks to my need to be away from her, I had been going to the gym as much as I could, so I’d bulked up. But she and I had never even been close to being the same size.
“Yeah, you keep thinking that, Little G,” I whispered so only she could hear.
Fiona rolled off the bed, smiling at me. “Hey, brat! I didn’t know you were home.”
“I’m only here for a few,” I explained as I loosened my hold on the pixie in my arms and let her step back. “I’m working on a final.”
“Ah.” My sister smiled. “I thought you were out with Brenda.”
“Bree,” I corrected, annoyed. I’d been dating Bree for two months, and Fi knew her damn name. Especially since whenever I introduced Bree to anyone, she added the words “like the cheese.” Hard to forget that.
“That’s right.” Fi rolled her eyes. “Bree.”
“I thought you two broke up,” Gabby interjected before I could call my sister out for the way she’d mocked Bree’s name.
“We did.” I shrugged. “We’re back together.” It had been a stupid fight. Whatever.
“Oh. That’s… awesome.”
If I didn’t know better, I would have sworn Gabby looked disappointed. She and Bree didn’t hang in the same circles, and they would probably never be friends, but I didn’t think they disliked each other. So I wasn’t sure why she’d be upset about the fact that we were back together.
“I guess I should probably get home. I have a ton of studying to do.” Gabs offered me a small smile before turning to Fi and giving her a hug. “Tell Dusty I stopped by, okay?”
My sister nodded, looking perplexed. “I thought he’d be home by now. He was only supposed to be running an errand for Dad.”
“How you getting home?” I asked before she could leave.
Gabs glanced shyly from me to Fiona and back to me. “Walking.”
“I’m driving you,” I insisted. She knew I fucking hated it when she walked all the way home. It wasn’t safe, and it infuriated me that Dustin let her.
“I can walk, really.”
“Good. Not happening.”
“Fine.” She laughed a little as she rolled her eyes and waved at my sister.
We made small talk as we headed down the stairs, talking about our finals, but I was only half listening. I was trying hard not to be excited about the idea of being alone with her for twenty minutes.
Without thinking, I put my hand on her lower back to guide her as I pulled open the front door. And came face to face with my brother.
Fucking Dustin.
Every time I even thought of him, my lips puckered. Nine fucking months and I could still taste the copper. Last fall, the dick had broken two of my ribs, busted my lip, and blackened my right eye so badly that it was swollen shut for three days. And I could still feel it as though it were yesterday.
My mother had taken one look at me and rushed me to the hospital. I told the officer who interviewed me there that I didn’t know who had done it, that I’d been jumped.
My dad hadn’t believed a word of it. He’d come home after my mother—his business trip lasting longer than her mini-vacation to God knew where—but not before the bruises faded. He called me into his office, had me shut the door, and made me stand still so he could look me over.
I was half afraid he was going to give me a beating of his own, the way his jaw clenched and his teeth ground. When he asked me what had happened, I regurgitated the same BS I’d given everyone else.
He’d only braced his chin on steepled fingers and stared me down. “Gabby?”
I’d shaken my head, not understanding, a smirk lingering on my lips as I tried not to laugh at the absurdity of Gabby hurting anyone, let alone me.
Then Colin Callaghan’s face turned murderous, and the smile fell from my lips. “Don’t you lie to me, boy. If Dustin did this to you, can you imagine what he’d do to her?”
I looked up, bewildered, and realized at that moment that my father knew more than I’d ever imagined. I cleared my throat, squared my shoulders, and looked him straight in the eyes. “I don’t have to imagine. I know what he’ll do. He was crystal clear.”
“Did he threaten her?” He sounded appalled, as if he couldn’t begin to imagine Dustin doing something so horrible.
“I’m going to handle it.”
Dad’s nostrils flared, his hand gripping the edge of the desk. “You need to tell me what happened.”
“I made a stupid mistake. One I don’t plan on repeating.”
Fire lit his eyes. “I’ll take care of it.”
In a rare bout of courage, I crossed my arms, ignoring the burn from the broken ribs, and sent the man I feared a look that I hoped told him to back the fuck off. “No, you won’t.”
“If you think I’m going to let someone hurt my son and get away with it—”
“What I think,” I interrupted, “is that it was a misunderstanding between your sons and you’re going to stay out of it.”
The old man sat in his chair, watching me in a way that made me want to squirm. He nodded once then reached into his drawer, pulled out a gun, and set it on his desk. “That”—he nodded toward the piece—“is a Berretta M9.”
My eyes darted between him and the black metal, unease pushing into my mind. I didn’t like guns. They made me nervous.
When I didn’t say anything, he raised an eyebrow. “It’s yours.”
“I don’t want that.”
“I know you don’t.” He sighed. “But it’s yours anyway. Figure out what afternoon you have free, and from now until I say, you’re going to learn how to use it.”
“I don’t need to know how to use that,” I practically spit out.
His eyes traveled
over the evidence my brother had left. “Yes, you do.”
He wouldn’t change his mind. He’d made me go to the shooting range week after week, forcing me to target practice for hours, until the 9mm felt like an extension of my hand and I could hit my bull’s-eye at twenty yards without actually trying.
Coming face to face with my brother always caused an internal reaction in me. But the look on his face as he saw me with his girlfriend made me want to shove her behind me and put the bastard in his place once and for all. I wasn’t carrying the M9 right then, but a part of me wished I was.
Dustin’s eyes narrowed at me briefly before he turned the death glare onto Gabs. “What’s goin’ on?” If smoke could have billowed out of his ears, it would have been.
Gabby tensed beneath my fingers, and I wanted to crush his skull. I dropped my hand and stepped in front of her. My growth spurt had changed a lot in my life, but the best thing was that now I was just as tall as Dusty, and because of the workouts, I was bigger. He didn’t scare me anymore, and if he was smart, he’d be the one terrified.
Dusty was never the smart one though.
He took my action as an attack and stepped in closer to me. He could try to intimidate me all he wanted, but no way in fuck I was going to let Gabs leave with him when he was practically frothing at the mouth.
“I’m taking her home,” I snapped, leaving no room for arguments.
The corner of his mouth turned up as he chuckled, but the anger was constant in his eyes. “You think so, huh?”
“Hey! Glad I caught you!” Fi chose that moment to join us, her wallet in one hand, keys in the other, and she was out of breath as if she’d just run down the stairs as fast as she could. “Oh, Dusty, you’re home.” The surprise was missing from her tone, and it sounded as though she’d already known he was there. She looked at the two of us, as if completely unsure of what to do and not understanding what was happening. She finally shook her head. “Yeah, okay. Gabby, I just realized I needed to run into town. I was going to see if you wanted to ride with me.”