But knowing, in the end, it would be worth it.
“God.” I clutched the kitchen sink and lowered my head. “Forgive me… Forgive me…”
“Everything okay?” Luc came up behind me, sliding her arms around my middle, holding me tight, resting her head against my back.
All roads had led to her.
The excruciating pain had been worth it.
The moments of darkness.
When I thought I knew what was best for me, for family, for everyone around me.
But the universe knew.
Hell, maybe God took pity.
But they led me to her.
“Something’s happened,” I whispered, my voice shook. Because my son.
My son would suffer.
And I couldn’t see past his pain—to hers.
“Claire’s been in an accident.”
Luc gasped then hugged me tighter. “What hospital? We need to go. Now!”
“Yeah.” I lowered my head, in prayer, in reverence, in forgiveness. “One more minute, Luc. Give me one more minute to be the father I need to be, for the son I never deserved.”
“Chase, what—”
“The sun…” I held her tight. “It’s beautiful today… like a new beginning.”
“A new beginning,” she agreed. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
No. “I have you. How could I not be?” I turned and crushed her against me. “Our son needs us now. I need you.”
She looked up at me with wonder in her eyes and said, “Where else would I be? Than by your side?”
She confirmed it.
My wife.
Her words.
Her confidence.
A half-hour later, I walked into that room, and I sat while machines hummed and beeped all around us.
I reached for her hand, and I squeezed.
She squeezed back.
The door closed as Nikolai cleared his throat. “I’m ready.”
I sighed.
But she squeezed.
So I nodded my head.
I left that room.
Ten minutes later, Nikolai was back out, and my son was running down the halls, tears streaming down his face.
And all I could think was.
What in God’s name.
Had. I. Done.
Chapter Thirty-Five
“That it will never come again is what makes life so sweet.” —Emily Dickinson
Annie
It felt right.
Being with them.
In that room.
Drinking, celebrating, letting my guard down. About a dozen times, Ash glanced over, his eyes full of heat.
He was wearing a tight black T-shirt and skinny jeans, barefoot with his tats showing and his hair all mussed—and he’d never looked so wrecked and sexy.
I’d had my hands on that body.
My fingers combing through that unruly hair.
Mean? Yeah, but he was my mean.
He crooked his finger.
I rolled my eyes even as my feet took me over to him as I wrapped my arms around his neck from behind. He lifted his chin for a kiss, and I gave, fully, willingly, because he was mine.
Because finally, we were moving on. Both of us, together.
With the memory of her, a dangling necklace of hope between our bodies.
One that told us both that we could grieve.
Love.
Move on.
And still, have a part of her.
His lips moved against mine; he tasted like whiskey and coke and all things Ash. How did a person have a taste? He somehow did, like bad decisions you’ll never regret even if you end up in prison.
Damn Abandonatos.
I swear they were an addiction in and of themselves.
“Pool,” he whispered against my neck. “Five minutes?”
My breath hitched. “But everyone’s here…”
“Like that stopped me the first time.” He nipped my neck. “Run.”
With a giddy laugh, I took off toward the door earning groans and cursing from everyone as if they knew exactly what sort of game we were playing.
“Hey, Serena,” I heard Junior call. “Run!”
“Hey, Junior,” she called back. “Run, Bitch.”
I heard scrambling.
Something like a knife clattering against the floor.
Laughter.
And a body getting tackled against the stairway.
Ash was mine, but maybe they were mine too.
I smiled, jogged back to the house, opened the sliding glass door, and paused as all the bosses were playing ping pong.
Like they literally had three tables set up.
Sweat was pouring like wine.
The wives were in a corner playing cards.
Everyone looked up.
I bit down on my lower lip. “Scary mafia, party of one.”
Chase pointed his paddle at me. “Tell no one.”
I held up my hands. “Yeah, your secret’s safe with me.”
He nodded and then turned to his opponent, Dante, the Alfero boss. “You let me beat you, and I’ll give you the new Lambo.”
“Nope, old man.” He winked. “I’m young and impressionable.”
“You’re in your thirties!”
“Careful, don’t wanna break a hip,” he teased.
Chase yelled.
Tex yelled on Chase’s behalf, and I laughed as I ran up the stairs really quick to grab a swimsuit and some sweats—even though I wouldn’t need them—to cover my body, after all, it was January and freezing.
I pulled my hair into a short ponytail and vowed to let my hair grow out, for him and me, because I’d loved my hair.
My cheeks were red, my lips nearly bruised from all the kissing, and I wore it with pride.
The mark of Ash.
The one I’d always wanted.
He’d seen me.
Treated me with respect when it counted.
Killed, actually killed my adoptive dad when he saw the bruises.
And he kept Claire’s promise.
He watched over me, even while it hurt.
As he bled all over the floor, he still watched over me.
As he tried to get his revenge, he still hugged me.
“You’re not his anymore,” I whispered into the universe. “Maybe you never were… maybe, Claire.” I sniffed. “Maybe you were just the path that led to him, to my forever.”
I swiped the tears on my cheeks and turned off the lights since I’d be spending the night with Ash. I ran down the stairs and laughed as Chase yelled at Dante for cheating, and the wives all started pouring wine.
Luc winked in my direction.
How had I gotten so lucky?
I went from lonely—to ginormous, insane, Italian family.
I was still smiling when I left the warmth of the house for the frigid chill outdoors.
I was about to call out Ash’s name since he was just standing there when I heard him say.
“Claire.”
I almost corrected him… maybe he was having a moment of—
“Hi Annie,” the voice said.
I turned.
And there her ghost stood.
I stumbled backward onto the cement, scraping my hands in an effort to catch myself.
And yet Ash just stood there like a statue.
“I, um…” Claire had lighter hair; she looked thinner, but otherwise, the same gorgeous friend.
My only friend.
“I, um, have a lot to say, but…” Her eyes went to Ash.
His jaw was clenched.
As were his fists.
“Claire?” Tears streamed down my face.
And then, selfishly, it hit me.
I let myself hope.
I let myself love him.
I let myself fall.
And the love of his life was standing right in front of him, as if resurrected, looking gorgeous, healthy.
Whole.
Her smile was sad but bright, beautifu
l, and I’d never felt more like an interloper, an impostor in my life.
“Ash?” I asked, maybe pleaded. I just needed him to tell me it was okay, that I just needed to calm down, to breathe, that this was all just a horrible mistake, that he knew she’d been alive and still fell for me, still loved me.
But he said nothing.
Too stunned?
Too happy?
I scrambled to my feet. “Ash?”
Slowly, he shook his head.
I reached for him and then stopped myself as my heart sank to my stomach, then down to my feet only to crash against the concrete.
He’d built her a chapel.
I’d left her my pearls.
I started walking backward until my tears made it impossible to move without swiping them away, then running.
I gripped the sliding glass door, stumbled inside, unable to breathe and unable to focus as I collapsed onto the ground.
Luc was there in seconds.
Then Chase.
I clawed at the kitchen floor, and then I screamed. Was that scream mine? Was this person me? Sobbing so hard she couldn’t breathe.
“Hey, hey.” Sergio slapped me lightly on the face. “Take deep breaths, calm…”
Tex and Phoenix shared a look, then Andrei was moving toward the door cursing up a storm.
But my focus went to Chase.
His eyes fell to mine.
In apology.
In knowledge.
So I closed mine.
So he couldn’t see my pain.
Or notice how the last remnants of my heart that were truly Ash’s just collapsed within themselves, leaving me nothing but darkness and despair.
Alone.
My fault.
My mom said to trust the Abandonatos.
And I gave them everything.
And now.
I had nothing.
Nothing but a heartbeat inside a shell of a body.
And still, Ash wasn’t here.
And why would he be?
I swayed to my feet, shoving past everyone as I numbly walked up the stairs and into my room—possibly the last night I’d be there.
I went to the bathroom and turned on the faucets—both of them.
Then the shower.
And once the sound of water falling was almost too much—I screamed.
Until I wanted to die.
And in the furthest recess of my mind, I heard a voice whisper—you just did.
“Is this yours?” Chase held up a pregnancy test. “I wanted to ask before I went to my daughter’s…”
I burst into tears. “I can’t, Chase. I can’t. I tried. I wanted to help. I love him. I’m so sorry.”
He pulled me into his arms.
The missing piece of the puzzle.
“Sadly, so ironic, isn’t it?” Chase said mysteriously. “This is Ash’s?”
I couldn’t trust myself to speak, but I could nod. “I was trying… he thought I was… someone else.”
Chase’s jaw flexed. “Fucking ruined him.”
Ruined me, I wanted to say. Instead, I said in a small voice, “Please, please just… send me away.”
“You’re under our protection… but okay.”
I still remembered that night, six weeks later, when I sent Chase the text that was still so painful that I wanted to die again.
It was the first time I contemplated it as I typed.
“Miscarriage.”
He’d made sure I had family around me.
I had the best doctors.
He called every day.
But all I kept thinking was this happened because my mom, the only person I trusted in my life, said to go to the Abandonatos.
And all Ash had ever done was hurt and live up to his name, Abandon.
Chapter Thirty-Six
“Sometimes the heart sees what is invisible to the eye.” —H. Jackson Brown Jr.
Ash
“What. The. Hell.” Junior roared from behind me, and within minutes all the bosses were filing out of the house, surrounding us.
And there she fucking stood.
My angel.
My demon.
My dream.
My nightmare.
It was impossible to hear anything past the roar of my own pain and anger as Claire stared me down like she fucking belonged in my yard after all the carnage she’d left in her wake.
“Why?” It was all I could say.
Her eyes darted around to the audience we now had.
She lowered her head. “I saw the news, the tweets, about you and Annie.” Her smile was sad. “Not really what I had in mind when I said protect her.”
I heard myself growl like an out of body experience.
She held up her hands. “I wasn’t supposed to come back, not like this, never like this, but then I, just, I realized that maybe.” Tears filled her eyes. “Maybe I was too scared. Wrong.” Her eyes fell to someone behind me. A hand touched my shoulder.
I imagined my dad.
Junior.
Maybe even Valerian.
But it was Tank.
Tank of all people that looked ready to rage a war on one small female. He gripped my shoulder and stood there.
And then, Junior followed.
Maksim.
Serena.
Valerian.
Until all of my cousins stood by my side, adding their strength.
Claire let out a shudder. “I thought so. But it was worth it. Because I realized…” Tears spilled over her cheeks. “That you were always worth it, and I didn’t deserve you, I didn’t understand. I let myself… create this perfect life in my head, and then it didn’t happen, and I resented you—all of you, so I went to your dad.” She hiccupped out another sob, covering her mouth. “I messed up so bad that I couldn’t come out of it.”
“What?” My voice was hoarse. “Did you do?”
Her eyes were clear as she whispered. “I lied about being pregnant, I thought it would force your hand, get us out, make things normal, and then I realized my mistake, but it was too late. I was too late.”
My entire body went rigid and then deflated like she’d just stabbed me in the heart a million times over. “You lied about our baby?”
“Yes.”
“I PROPOSED!” I roared, slamming my hand against my chest as Tank held me back. “I FUCKING LOVED YOU!”
She burst into heavy sobs. “I loved you too… but not, not enough to give up actual life away from this, not enough…” She sobbed. “Not enough.”
“I’m sorry then.” I found my voice. “I’m sorry I proposed with a two million dollar ring. I’m sorry I built you a fucking chapel to get married in. I’m sorry I did everything, everything in order to be enough for you. I’m sorry you had to fake a baby.” My voice cracked. “My baby!” I lunged again. Tank held me firm, Junior gripped my other arm. “My money. My house. My love.” I shook my head as a tear spilled onto my cheek. “I’m sorry I mourned someone who thought nothing of walking away. I’m sorry. Not you. You’re weak. Not sorry.”
She fell to the ground. “I snuck in on Nikolai’s plane, I just…” She cried. “I wanted to see you, and then you were so happy.”
Tank growled. “Because that’s what people fucking do when they’re family, Claire! They weep, mourn, fight, hate, move on, and love, only to repeat it! How fucking dare you do that to my family! To my friend!”
Stunned, I looked over at him, his chest was heaving, his eyes full of tears. “How dare you!” He repeated.
And then it was me holding him back.
Tank.
Our FBI agent.
Adopted brother.
Friend.
He defended me.
Like he’d done Annie.
I almost laughed like an insane person because what the ever-loving hell was I even doing?
Mourning someone who never really existed in the first place? Who lied? Who chose herself and her vision of her future over me?
“It’
s okay.” I patted Tank on the back and then turned to my dad. “You knew?”
“Me.” He nodded. “Nikolai. Her request. As you know, per our rules. If you want out. You have to die. The accident was real, her injuries… were not.”
“And Annie?” I roared. “What about her?”
“Innocent.” She gulped. “I just… She was abused, I wanted to help her, and I knew that since I had to die—you would.”
“I did.” I nodded. “I am.”
“I know.” Her lower lip trembled. “I’m not sorry for loving you.”
I almost sneered, “you should be.”
But I wasn’t that man anymore.
Because of Annie, I was different.
So I gave her a sad smile and said. “I’m not sorry either—because your selfish love—brought me her.”
Claire sucked in a sob, her eyes filling with tears. “I know that now.”
“Junior,” I barked. “Take her to the airstrip.” I pointed at my dad. “And you. You fix what needs to be fixed.” My eyes searched for Phoenix. “Make sure her identity is intact.” I snapped my fingers. “Sergio, I need all cameras blocked from the airstrip to our house; if she needs a new identity, do that too. Keep her safe.” I looked back. “To hurt her would hurt Annie.”
“Right away… boss.” Junior smiled.
And the old bosses, the ones I had no business even talking to, let alone ordering around, moved.
They moved into action.
And as I rushed toward the house.
Toward her.
I heard Phoenix and Nixon both mutter. “King. The true Abandonato heir.”
“Mine,” Dad said with love, authority, affection.
“Yours,” I whispered, hoping Annie, in all her confusion and anger, somehow heard me. Felt me.
Knew me.
My soul.
My heart.
It was hers now.
Hers.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“They did not leave your life, I moved them.” —God
Annie
Rain suddenly started to pour outside.
Reminding me that maybe it was a bad omen.
Loving him, in her place, in mine.
Selfishly wanting him but needing him to stop drinking his life away or taking pills.
She’d done that.
So I hated her in that moment.
I hated that he’d love her.
He’d marry her in that perfect chapel with the fireflies and my mom’s pearls; she’d get everything for hurting him.
For breaking Ash—she’d earn him.
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