by Harper Sloan
Then I remember the picture.
The carving over my empty womb.
And then all that strength and drive to overcome flies right out the window.
Fuck strong, I just want to curl up and die.
Knock, knock . . .
“Uhh, Dee . . . come back later. I don’t want to talk right now,” I whine, turning my head into the pillow.
Maybe if I’m lucky I can just go to sleep and she’ll go away.
“Not Dee, baby girl. Turn over so we can talk, yeah?” Greg’s deep voice hits me, leaving no room for argument. Why ask the question? I know he won’t leave until we talk.
But then I remember. Fuck that.
“Go away, G. Not interested in hashing out life lessons right now.” My voice is muffled by the pillow. He’ll get the point, and if he doesn’t . . . fuck him.
“Iz, get the fuck up—now. Love you, baby girl, but I won’t sit here while you self-destruct.”
He’s pissed, but not as pissed as me. Why can’t they just let me stay in bed? Maybe bring me some more Jack, the asshole?
“Go away, Greg.”
“So fucking help me God, Izzy, get the hell up now. Shower. Talk. Breakfast. That’s all I am asking, which isn’t fucking much.”
“Not interested in helping you play Dr. Phil, Greg. I just want to go back to sleep.” More of my muffled complaints fill the air, making it thick with bullshit.
“Goddammit, Iz,” he grumbles, standing up off my bed, giving me a second to release the breath I didn’t know I was holding. Thank God he’s leaving, is the only thought I have before the sheets are whipped off and I’m flying through the air. “Not dealing with this shit, Iz. We have shit to discuss, and I do not have time to deal with you being depressed. I get it, baby girl. I understand where you are right now, but you need to wake up and do it now. You have people worried about you. Dee and I are not going to let you sit here and turn into yourself again. No fucking way.” He is spitting each word out as he throws me over his shoulder and walks into the bathroom.
“GREG!” I scream. “Let me down now!”
“Not going to happen,” is the only reply I get before he dumps me into the shower, twisting the water on and slamming the curtain shut in my stunned, cold, and wet face.
“I’m going to kick your ass, Greg Cage. Kick it fucking hard!” I scream out at him.
I swear I hear his laughter as he walks out of the bathroom.
I stay in the shower until the water runs cold, dreading leaving the solitude of my bathroom. Getting out, I dry off, brush my hair and teeth, and throw on my robe. I take a deep breath in and open the door.
There he is, the giant asshole, sitting on my bed with his elbows resting on his knees. He is looking right at me, trying to look serious while suppressing his laughter.
Asshole.
“All right, you wanted me out.” I throw my arms wide. “Here I am. What is so important, huh?”
He smiles at me, letting a few gruff chuckles free. “Try and be a badass another day, Izzy. I’m fucking tired. Went to chat with Reid when I left last night. Told him a little about the situation, not everything. He knows there is a husband not wanting to become an ex and not being quiet about it. He doesn’t know the significance behind the picture, but it’s disturbing enough that he didn’t question me too deep last night. I want you to be honest with him. It’s important for him to do his job, Iz. He doesn’t know a thing about shit other than this mess currently going on and the little he needed to know about your marriage to understand the threat. He’s booked solid with shit for the next two weeks, but I told him I would keep my eyes open until we could put a plan of action into play. You meet with Reid, explain the whole situation, everything—and I mean everything—and then we deal. Understand?”
I take a second to process what Greg just said. It’s a lot, and I know he means well, but I do not want someone else in my business.
“Greg,” I start, “I really would feel better if it were just you dealing with this. I don’t really know this guy, and—”
“Not negotiable, Iz. I’m good, but I am not as good as Reid.”
Sighing, I look at Greg. Defeated, I reply, “Fine, G. You know best.”
“That’s right, baby girl. Don’t worry. Reid’s who you need. Him and the boys, between all of us, there is no fucking way that shit fuck is getting his hands on you, got me?”
“Yeah, G. I got you.”
Greg left a little while ago, leaving me with a worried Dee. A worried Dee planning another ‘forget the world’ mission. I’m not sure I can handle another one of these. Her newest plan? Continue with birthday weekend. Since yesterday’s plans went wonky, she calls up Greg to let him know the plan—drinks and dancing at Club Carnal.
Fabulous.
Just what I want.
My defeated mood continues throughout the day, and I just don’t have the strength to fight Dee on this. I can handle one night out with Dee, Greg, drinks aplenty, and loud music to drown out the pain.
I spend my day vegging out on the couch and just hating life in general. Why can’t he just leave me alone? The divorce has been sitting in limbo for six long months. I didn’t want a thing—not the house, cars, or the money. Nothing that would tie me to Brandon. I’m beginning to think he won’t ever just go away.
Dee joins me for lunch. She doesn’t say anything about the previous day, but I can tell she wanted to. She is just working it out in her head, trying to figure out the best way to approach. No doubt she heard everything Greg said too. She knew I would crawl into myself and start going back to that dark place; no way in hell she was letting that happen.
I’m sitting on my bed, folding laundry, and avoiding the world when she walks in.
“Hey, have a second?” she asks, lacking the joy she normally greets me with.
“If you want to hash shit out, I just don’t think I have it in me today, Dee. I love you, but I just don’t know what you want to hear.” I reply, setting the laundry aside and clearing her off a spot to sit.
“I just want to see where your head’s at, make sure you’re okay.”
“I don’t know. I really don’t, Dee. I feel like there isn’t anything I can do at this point. He knows where we are, even though I hoped we could stay invisible to him. It was stupid of me to even nurture that thought. I knew he had reach, I just honestly thought he wouldn’t care. Why? I keep asking myself why he even wants to play this game?” I swallow the tears back down. I can’t go there. Not again.
“Babe, we won’t ever know what goes through that sick bastard’s head. I think it’s all about letting you know he could if he wanted to. He knows you are here, knows you want the divorce. Surely he knows you aren’t that girl he controlled so easily. Iz, I don’t know what his plan is, but I really think you need to speak to Greg’s friend. I would be lying to you if I said I didn’t have any fear that he might try something.”
I know she’s right. Hell, I lived with his evil for six years. I know more than anyone just what Brandon Hunter is capable of.
“I know, and I will. It’s just hard. You understand that, right?”
She nods her head, compassion lighting her eyes. “I get that, I really do, but when it comes to your safety, your life . . . well, I won’t take any chances, Iz. We have come so far. YOU have come so far. It just doesn’t seem right that fate would be throwing him back up in your life.”
Ha! Again with that bitch, fate. I should explain how much she hates me to Dee, but she wouldn’t understand. Not with her hopeful optimism.
“I’ll talk to him . . . Reid. I think that’s what Greg said his name was. Two weeks. I have two weeks to prepare myself to open those wounds back up. God, Dee. I don’t want to go there again, remembering it all, and Greg says I need to tell him everything. You don’t think he means everything, do you? Surely anything from before Brandon isn’t important?” I think that’s panic in my voice. Surely not, but I can tell by Dee’s watery eyes that it most certainly
is.
“Izzy, babe, that picture. I think all the before Brandon stuff is kind of important. He knows what yesterday was for you, which means he won’t stop pulling more of your pain into the open. It really is best you tell this guy everything. Greg and I will be there. We won’t let you do this alone. Never again.”
I look into Dee’s big brown eyes and know that she is prepared to fight by my side, and I love her for it. Maybe it isn’t right for me to depend on her so much for strength, but try as I might, I just can’t find another way.
“All right, Dee. Together, when Greg sets something up, we can go talk to this guy, figure out what to do next.”
With a small smile, watery eyes, and relief hidden in their depths, she gives me a hug and stands up. With a small clap, she has officially brushed herself off and decided that the heavy is done with for today.
“Well, now that we have had that talk, let’s get ready. Greg is coming back after he grabs some stuff for the night from his apartment, stops by his office, and lets everyone know what’s going on, all that stuff. That should give us plenty of time to start all our prep work for tonight.” Huge smile. Yup, my Dee, the queen of joy and happiness, is back.
With a groan, I let her pull me out of bed and set off for the shower.
I have been thoroughly waxed, buffed, shaved, tweaked, and generally molested by beautifying products by the time we hear Greg’s knock on the door. Just in time for him to sit back and enjoy the freak show.
I’m sitting on the living room floor painting my toes and Dee is sitting back on the couch finishing her fingers when I yell at him to come in. I hear the door click open and his heavy steps down the hallway. Looking up, I meet the fierce scowl he is famous for.
“The fuck? What the hell have I told you two about letting just anyone walk into the fucking house?” he growls—yes, growls—at us. If this were anyone other than Greg, I would be sitting in my own piss right now.
“Oh, come on, G. We knew it was you.”
“Oh really? So you can see through fucking wood and steel now? I didn’t realize you picked up fucking super powers. Remind me next fucking time to just have you beam me the hell over. Sure as hell will save on the gas.”
Oops. Guess I didn’t realize big bad protector Greg would be coming out to play.
“Iz, baby girl, I did not put this fancy-ass alarm system in for you to not only never set it when you are home but to leave the door unlocked and basically invite Tom, Dick, and Harry to come over. Do I really need to remind you of the dangers out there?”
If he was trying for the soft and tender route, he missed by a mile there. I instantly shut down, my gaze falling to the floor.
“Sorry,” I mumble.
“Don’t do that shit, Izzy. Brush it the fuck out of your pretty little head. Just promise me to start locking the door, use the alarm, and for shit’s sake, check the damn door before letting someone in, yeah?”
“Got it. Alarm, lock, and check.” I pick up all my nail products and head off to my room. I have some time to get ready. We aren’t leaving until later tonight. I’ll let Dee deal with keeping the bear happy. “I’m going to take a nap before we leave. Wake me up in a few, Dee,” I call down the hall as I step in my room. I lock the door and shed my clothes before curling into my bed.
It takes me a while to finally fall asleep, but once I do, it is anything but restful. Nightmares of Brandon and dreams of a future lost invade my sleep. When Dee comes to knock on my door around eight o’clock asking me if I want to grab something to eat, it takes me a second to remember where I am and what we’re doing.
“Yeah, let me get some clothes on and I’ll be right down,” I yell through the door, still shaking the dreams from my mind. I get out of bed and grab my robe, setting off to find Dee and Greg.
“Pizza. Sit . . . eat,” Greg says around a mouthful of said pizza.
“Classy, Greg. I wonder why you’re still single.” I laugh over at him.
He levels me with a mocking hard glare that has me laughing harder.
We eat in comfortable silence, just enjoying each other’s company. When it comes time to get dressed and do makeup and hair, we leave Greg in front of the TV with some sports shit to keep him happy.
Dee and I spend about two hours perfecting our hair and faces. Her shoulder-length brown locks are curled and perfectly in place, bouncing as normal. She curled my long hair and pinned it back to keep it off to one side, leaving it to fall down the front of my body, effectively keeping my back fully exposed. I have to admit, she may have missed her calling. Her makeup is done similar to mine, heavy and club worthy. She lined my big light green eyes with heavy liner and shaded my lids with a stunning combination of silver, black, gray, and white. My blush is perfect, but my lips are the focal point—lush and a bold fire-engine red.
Grabbing my new dress, I step into my room to put this piece of torture on. I may have realized she was right, and I do look good, but that doesn’t mean I have to enjoy showing off basically every inch of skin. Baby steps would be nice, not taking off running.
I stand in front of my closet for the longest time, just taking it all in. Tight red dress, perfect hair, and flawless makeup.
If I weren’t me, I would think this chick was stunning. But I’m me, and I’m currently picking out every single flaw. Breasts look too big, even with my height disadvantage I have way too much leg, way too fucking much back, heels too tall . . . I could keep this up for hours. Fortunately for Dee, she picks that moment to come walking in.
She looks stunning. Everything my dress lacks and doesn’t cover, hers does. She has a simple black dress on. The hemline hits her about the same place my dress does—vagina level. Or at least it would be vagina level if she ever were to bend over, sit, or generally take a deep breath. It’s form fitting, hugging her curves, and making her ass look fantastic. I have always been jealous of that girl’s curves. She is slender with everything right where it should be. A great ass and a great rack. Where my dress lacks a complete back, hers is dangerously close to playing with nip-slip central. The front is cut right down the center, ending with a point at her breastbone.
“Holy shit, Dee . . . If you move wrong, your tits are going to come flying out.” Gaping over at her, I’m sure I look ridiculous.
“Very funny, Izzy. Tape, honey. I have these girls so taped up there isn’t anything falling out of here.” She lifts her arms up and does some weird gyrating, hip-swirling move. I can’t tell if she is dancing or trying to fly, but true to her words, her tits stay put.
Whatever. More important issues here. Like, how the hell am I supposed to walk in five-inch heels? I am a ballet-slipper, flip-flop-loving girl. I haven’t worn heels like this ever. When I was married to Brandon, he wanted me to stay small. Heels weren’t allowed because they would make me dangerously close to his height.
“Is there any way I can wear my flat sandals, Dee? I swear I will end up breaking my neck tonight in these things. How are you walking in yours?”
“All in the mind, girlfriend. And no. You will not ruin that dress with flats.” She practically spits the words out.
Mumbling under my breath about the benefits of having health insurance for when I fall and break something important, I pick up my skyscraper heels from the bed and follow Dee out my door, down the hall, and into the living room.
Greg walks over with a smile on his face, looking pretty damn handsome himself. He is dressed in dark slacks and a light blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his strong arms.
“Looking nice, ladies,” he says, throwing a beefy arm over my shoulder and pausing mid-step into the kitchen.
It takes me a second to register that he stopped walking, so I end up a few steps ahead of him. I hear his sharp intake of breath and turn around. His face has lost the smile and a thunderous look has taken up residency.
“Iz, where the fuck is your dress?”
“You’re looking at it, G, or lack of it. Dee’s handy work. Y
ou know how she is. Last time I give her free range over my outfit, that’s for damn sure,” I reply with the exasperation clear in my tone.
He’s looking at me like I have grown two heads and started speaking in tongues. Quickly, I look down to make sure all my girly bits are still tucked in their rightful places. Looking back up, I meet the still pissed glare of Greg.
Confused, I ask, “What?”
“What? Fucking hell. How am I supposed to protect you when you are walking around naked?” he booms.
“Seriously, this isn’t that bad, I think. Plus, Dee was so happy. It’s just a few hours of wearing this thing. It really is okay, as long as I don’t bend over,” I try to joke, but I can tell he still is not thrilled with my lack of dress.
What can I say? When he decided to adopt me as his little sister, he went all out. I don’t have time for this big brother act at this point. As much as I appreciate it, he is keeping me from my alcohol and my ticket to Forgetville. I’ve managed to keep the claws of my past from taking root all day; I’m not going to let them take over now.
Turning around, I continue my walk to the kitchen, where Dee is giving me a knowing eye. Picking up the shot she just poured, I down it and then hold my arm out for a refill. Chuckling she pours me another before turning to address Greg.
“Well, big boy, you ready to have fun?”
“Yeah,” grumbles Greg. Grumbles and rumbles . . . It sounds like someone isn’t too happy with my lack of concern for his big brother worries.
“Are your friends still meeting us here?” she asks, peeking a look over at me to see if I caught this new development.
“What friends?” I ask both of them.
“My boys. Don’t worry about it. They’re meeting us at Carnal later. They got held up,” he replies, his tone still sour and his eyes still glaring right at me.