Jo Jo and I both look at each other in shock and then turn to Pike. “You quoted her book!” Jo Jo cheers with a smile. She scrunches her nose. “Wait, Dad, I thought you hated reading?”
Pike frowns. “It’s not that I hate reading. I have a reading disorder that makes me very frustrated when I read.” He muses her hair. “But, I did listen to the audio version.”
“That’s genius!” Jo Jo exclaims, and I beam at the triumphant look in Pike’s eyes as he picks Jo Jo up and spins her around the room. It takes a smart man to know and admit his limitations, and I managed to get myself the smartest of them all. If only more people could be like Pike. Selfless, understanding, and loyal without limits.
The world would be a much better place.
Preppy closes the book, then opens it again, flipping through the first few pages. “Have you seen this yet?” he asks Pike.
Pike puts Jo Jo down and peers over Preppy’s shoulder. I know exactly what he’s showing him, and I haven’t yet told him about it myself. I watch his expression as he takes his time to read it to make sure he doesn’t get the words jumbled.
He looks at me. “That’s…” He nods, his expression a mixture of emotions. He clears his throat. “That’s…we’ll talk about it later. I think I just heard Thorne calling me. Come on, Jo Jo,” he drags her out by the hand.
“Dad, I didn’t hear anything? You high or something?” Jo Jo asks.
“What’s got him in a rush?” Thorne asks, coming back in from the storage area with a box in her hand, obviously not having called Pike.
Preppy holds up the page so Thorne can read the words I wrote to thank the man who gave me my life back. A true purpose. The man I trust and will fight for with every day I have left on this earth.
For Pike, I chose love because you showed me how.
Epilogue
Mickey
Love is biology. Neurochemicals, hormones, neuropeptides. They all have to align with testosterone, estrogen, dopamine, vasopressin, and oxytocin in order to produce the feeling of love. It’s not an easy task which is why love––true love––is rare.
They are why I feel this bigger-than-myself love for Pike, Jo Jo, and Thorne. And this love is a feeling I trust more than anything. A reliable constant.
My truth.
Pike and I are walking down the beach. We are hand in hand with Jo Jo between us who switches between cursing at the seagulls and loudly pointing out the men wearing tiny speedos.
Our pace slows as we come upon the timeshare that I spent so many summers in with my family. The one that I fled to the night they were killed. The night I met Pike.
I glance up at the once boarded-up duplex where I spent so many happy summers. “I hope that whoever bought this place loves it as much as I do,” I lament. “I spent a lot of happy times here.”
Jo Jo runs ahead of us, chasing a crab in the sand. Mickey, the dog, chases her and then barks at the crab, punching her paws into the sand.
Pike takes my hand. “Your neighbor, the older lady, moved away to be with her kids. The other side was sold at auction. The same buyer picked up both halves and recently renovated it, combining the sides and making a decent three-bedroom two-bathroom house.”
“That probably cost a fortune,” I say. The once pink siding is now a more modern bright white. The shutters are black instead of the previous shade of faded purple. The wooden stairs and deck that was chipped and faded has been reinforced with strong beams crisscrossing underneath and freshly stained. The open spaces underneath that used to be for parking now houses a paver flooring and a huge outdoor kitchen with comfortable modern outdoor couches and tables. “It’s beautiful. I’m jealous of whoever gets to live there.”
“Because of your family?”
I squint against the sun and shade my eyes with my hand to get a better look at the house. “No, not just for the memories it holds, but because it’s a gorgeous beach house.”
Pike squeezes my hand. “And you’re right, it did cost a fortune.”
I twist my lips. “How do you know that?
He reaches into his pocket and holds up a key. “Because, I oversaw everything and because––” He hands me the key. “We own it now.”
I turn the key over in my hand and look back to the house and then to Pike. “Are you serious?”
“I think you’ve figured out that my sense of humor doesn’t extend to tricking you into believing I bought a house for us only to say, yeah, totally joking,” he chuckles. “Besides, a one-bedroom apartment over the pawn shop isn’t exactly enough room for a family of three. But it’s perfect for Thorne. She’s going to be moving in at the end of the week.”
Mindy barks, chasing after Jo Jo.
“Family of four,” he corrects. “Five, if you count the fucking cat.”
“This is…I can’t believe it.” Pike is right about the apartment.
Jo Jo came to us from a situation where she didn’t feel safe, and we wanted to do everything we could to make her feel that way, including giving her the bedroom with a door that locks. Which means that Pike and I have been sleeping on the pull-out couch. Lousy for both our backs and our privacy, but worth making Jo Jo feel comfortable.
“Why didn’t you tell me!” I exclaim, slapping him in the chest. He holds my wrist to his chest.
“Because I didn’t know how you’d feel about it, and I wanted to be sure,” Pike says. “I wanted to know if this could be home for you. If you want. And I needed to know if…”
“If it was going to trigger me into losing my mind again?”
“I was going to say upset you, but sure, that works, too.”
I’ve been working with therapists and counselors twice a week as well as attending a grief counseling group session once a week. Next month, I will begin leading my own group, and they won’t be subjects. I won’t be studying what makes them tick. My only goals will be to listen and to help. In addition, I’ll be starting my own class in the prison system like the one Pike told me about. The kind that helps inmates leave gangs and groups like The Reich, but more importantly, I’ll help teach them how to forgive themselves. How to love again.
Tears well up in my eyes. “You’ve already given me so much,” I say, as Pike wipes a tear from my cheek with the pad of his thumb.
“Not nearly as much as you’ve given me,” he replies.
I think he’s about to kiss me when he bends over and scoops me up into his arms. I shriek in surprise and kick out my legs. “What are you doing?” I laugh.
“Mom! Dad!” Jo Jo calls from the porch. She sees Pike carrying me toward the house. “Does this mean we can show her now?”
“Yes!” I call up to her.
A sudden pricking at the back of my neck grabs my attention. “Can you put me down?” I ask Pike.
He frowns and sets me down.
“I’m okay,” I assure him. “I just need a minute.”
“I’ll be by the steps when you’re ready,” he says, kissing my knuckles before dropping my hand.
I take a deep breath of salty air and then turn around to face the water. There on the shoreline is my family. My mother and father. Mallory, Mindy and Maya.
“It’s okay to think about us, you know,” Mallory says. “We are so happy for you!”
“We’re okay where we are. We want you to be okay, too,” Maya says.
My mother smiles. “It’s okay to remember us. We’re okay. None of this was ever your fault. We love you, and it’s okay now that you remember we aren’t here.”
“I’m so sorry,” my father says. “I did everything wrong, but not for one moment during all of those horrible mistakes, did I ever not love you or your sisters.”
“Yeah,” Mindy butts back in. “And if you don’t live up to your full potential, I will haunt your ass for all of fucking eternity.”
“Language,” my mother scolds, just as I’d scolded Jo Jo earlier. I guess I know where I get it from.
“Think of us, “my mother says. We will thin
k of you. It’s time for us to go now. Be happy, darling and know when you are that we are happy for you. Live your life and love with all of your heart the way I love you with all of mine.
My father stares at me with sad eyes.
“I forgive you,” I whisper. I will never know my father’s true heart or the reasons behind what he did, but people are complicated and my father was no exception. In order to let it go, I have to forgive.
And so I do.
Over the past two years, I’ve learned that carrying the weight of hate can crush a person, turn them into something they aren’t. Moving on means being able to forgive and that’s exactly what I want to do. Move on with Pike and Jo Jo.
“I love you all.” I take a deep shaky breath. “Goodbye.”
Pike comes up beside me and grabs my hand. “Everything okay?” he asks, his forehead lined with familiar concern.
I look up at him and then to the beach house where Jo Jo is waiting impatiently on the porch with her arms crossed and her foot tapping on the wood deck. Mindy, the dog, pokes her furry head through the posts of the railing, her pink tongue hanging out as she gives us a look that says she’s just as impatient as Jo Jo.
“I’m great. I’m more than great. I’m happy.” I smile. “Let’s go home.”
Pike takes me by the hand, and we trudge through the soft sand. We reach the stairs, and I cast one last glance over my shoulder where the image of my family is fading as they smile until they’re gone, disappearing into the waves, but never from my life. Because they’re family.
And while people stop living, family never dies.
A note to my readers
Dear Readers,
I apologize with my entire heart for the delays in giving you this book. It was almost finished, and then…the apocalypse.
I’m not trying to give you excuses, just a few reasons.
Writing a book is hard.
Writing a book during the time of COVID-19 is super hard.
Writing a book in the wake of George Floyd’s murder is beyond fucking hard.
Writing a book about a young white woman who is heavily involved in a white supremacist organization in the wake of COVID-19 and the murder of George Floyd has been the hardest ever.
While my heart has been heavy and my anxiety has run rampant, I’ve also been inspired.
And while my stories are pure fiction, I’ve delved deeper into some of these characters than I ever thought I would. I found out what makes them tick. I explored the idea of redemption and discovered what the line is that separates the redeemable from the non-redeemable.
My books are not political. They never have been. However, love and kindness aren’t political ideals. They are instilled in us at birth, and it’s only the influence of others that can tear those ideals down.
I invite you to think.
To ask questions.
To delve deeper.
To take one minute and ask yourself what you would do if you were in someone else’s shoes.
Most of all, I invite you to love and be kind to one another.
We do not know what our fellow humans go through on a daily basis. What they suffer. What their real story contains within its pages. Why they act the way they do.
Our worlds are not everyone else’s world.
Our beliefs are not absolute truths.
I’ll leave you with this. It’s a conversation I have with my five-year-old daughter every morning.
Me: Baby girl, what makes a happy heart?
Her: Kindness makes a happy heart, Mommy.
Me: And why is that?
Her: Because kindness is happiness!
Me: Exactly, baby. Exactly.
All my love and more.
WYTM,
TM Fraizer
ALSO BY T.M. FRAZIER
THE PERVERSION TRILOGY
PERVERSION (Book 1)
POSSESSION (Book 2)
PERMISSION (Book 3)
THE OUTSKIRTS DUET
THE OUTSKIRTS (Book 1)
THE OUTLIERS (Book 2)
THE KING SERIES
LISTED IN RECOMMENDED READING ORDER
Jake & Abby’s Story (Standalone)
The Dark Light of Day (Prequel)
King & Doe’s Story (Duet)
KING (Book 1)
TYRANT (Book 2)
Bear & Thia’s Story (Duet)
LAWLESS (Book 3)
SOULLESS (Book 4)
Rage & Nolan’s Story (Standalone)
ALL THE RAGE (Spinoff)
Preppy & Dre’s Story (Triplet)
PREPPY PART ONE (Book 5)
PREPPY PART TWO (Book 6)
PREPPY PART THREE (Book 7)
Smoke & Frankie’s Story (Standalone)
UP IN SMOKE (Spinoff)
Nine & Lenny’s Story
NINE, THE TALE OF KEVIN CLEARWATER
King & Doe’s Novella
King of the Causeway
Pike’s Story (Duet)
Pike (Book 1)
Pawn (Book 2)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
T.M. Frazier
T.M. Frazier never imagined that a single person would ever read a word she wrote when she published her first book. Now, she’s a USA Today bestselling author. Her books have been translated into numerous languages and published all around the world.
T.M. enjoys writing what she calls ‘wrong side of the tracks’ romance with sexy, morally corrupt anti-heroes and ballsy heroines.
Her books have been described as raw, dark and gritty. Basically, what that means, is while some authors are great at describing a flower as it blooms, T.M. is better at describing it in the final stages of decay.
She loves meeting her readers, but if you see her at an event please don’t pinch her because she's not ready to wake up from this amazing dream.
For more information please visit her website www.tmfrazierbooks.com
Join her Facebook Group, Frazierland!
Pawn (The Pawn Duet, Book Two): A King Series Spinoff Page 18