by Alex Grayson
My throat goes tight and my eyes burn. I was inches away from losing half of my heart, and that knowledge terrifies me more than I ever thought possible.
“He saved her,” Ellie croaks, her eyes swimming with tears. She looks down at Emo, immense sadness dimming her eyes. “He jumped in front of her just as the gun went off.” She looks at Maisy, caressing her cheek, and looks back at me. “He took a bullet for our girl, Judge.”
I nod, pulling her forward for a kiss. I bring my eyes to Emo, who now has his eyes closed. For a moment, fear makes itself known, but then his eyes slide open slowly. They move to Maisy, but as if sensing my gaze on him, they drift to me.
There will never be anything I could do to repay Emo for what he gave me. There will be no words meaningful enough to express my gratitude. My brothers and I have always had each other’s backs, no matter the situation or the consequences, and damn if he didn’t have mine tonight.
I lift my chin, and his tilts down, accepting what I’ll never be able to put into words.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
ELLIE
“I’M DONE. CAN WE GO SEE EMO NOW?”
Grabbing the dish towel from my shoulder, I dry my hands before tossing it on the counter. “Throw away your trash and go ask your dad.”
I watch as she takes the paper plate and napkin to the trash can and dumps it. After she hands me her empty cup, she runs out of the kitchen, yelling, “Daddy!”
I smile as she goes. Rinsing the glass, I put it in the dishwasher and close the door. As I do, my eyes land on the faded rope burns around my wrists. I turn and lean back against the counter, closing my eyes and letting out a deep breath. Memories from a few days ago worm their way into my subconscious and the same fear, helplessness, and internal pain I felt that day strangles my lungs.
My knuckles scream in protest from gripping the counter so tight, and my breaths come out in choppy pants. Prickles skitter across my scalp and it feels like a huge weight is pressing down on my chest. Sweat breaks out on my forehead, but I’m so damn cold, all the way to my bones. Light-headedness has me swaying, and I swear I’m heading toward the floor, but at the last minute, my momentum stops and warmth envelops me.
I cradle myself against it and suck in several gulps of air. An achingly familiar woodsy scent fills my lungs, and I almost cry in relief.
I open my eyes and lock on a pair of worried green ones. I’m in his lap on the couch in the living room, with no idea how I got there.
He brushes away the damp hair from my forehead, a wrinkle creasing his forehead.
“You need to talk to Trouble about your panic attacks,” his voice rumbles, a hint of anxiety mixed in with the deep timbre.
This is the fourth time I’ve had one in the three days since Sierra threatened our lives. They’re not stemmed from my own terrible experience, but from the terror of almost losing Maisy and Judge. That bullet was so close to hitting Maisy. Had Emo not jumped in front of her, it would have.
“I’ll talk to him,” I promise.
I’m hoping that over time my anxiety will dwindle, but until then, I hate knowing I’m worrying Judge. Thankfully, I’ve been able to hide it from Maisy.
I try to get up from Judge’s lap, but he holds me in place with an arm across my lap. “In a minute,” he murmurs.
I’m not the only one suffering from the effects of Sierra’s actions. Judge has his own demons he faces every day. He’s just better at hiding it. Except for the first day, Maisy seems to not have had any lasting effects. Our daughter is resilient and can bounce back from anything—something we’re both grateful for.
Judge rests his forehead on my temple, his eyes closing, arms tightening around me, and takes several deep breaths. It breaks my heart to see his grief.
Grabbing one of his hands, I place it over my heart, letting him feel that I’m okay by the beat of my heart. His eyes flip open and settle on mine. So many unspoken words can be seen in his tortured gaze. Leaning forward, I place my lips over his. Air whooshes over my face with his ragged exhale.
“I love you,” I whisper softly against his lips.
“I love you too.” His declaration is just as quiet.
Sneakers squeaking on the floor have both of us looking to the right just as Maisy emerges from the hallway. She’s headed toward the kitchen, but changes directions when she spots us on the couch. She stops with her knees touching the cushion, anticipation lighting her face, her backpack slamming against her back.
“Can we go now?”
I can’t help the smile from forming on my face. Every day since he was shot, Maisy has begged to go visit Emo. Despite his aloof exterior and uncaring vibes, Emo has stolen her heart. She says he needs someone to love and she’s determined to be that person. He’s still quiet and reserved, never letting on that she’s getting to him, but I’ve seen the affection in his eyes as he looks at her when he thinks no one is watching. Maisy has stolen his heart as well. I think being near Emo has helped keep her own demons from that day away.
With a quick kiss to Judge’s lips, I get up from his lap.
“You got everything you need?” I ask.
“Yep!” she chirps. “It’s in my backpack.”
Judge grabs the ends of Maisy’s pigtails, and she giggles as he gently tugs her forward, kissing her forehead before getting to his feet.
“Let’s go.”
We meet Declan outside as he’s getting out of his car. Maisy skips over to him for a hug. His arms are tight around her and he closes his eyes. He just saw her an hour ago, but every second is precious with the ones you love.
Declan was devastated when he was called with the news of what happened. When he rushed home and saw for himself that Maisy and I were okay, that devastation turned to rage. What surprised me was Judge’s decision to let Declan know what he and his brothers planned for Sierra. Even more surprising was that he told him everything. He explained the history of Malus, what it used to be, the quest to kill the adults who escaped Sweet Haven, their vigilante acts against other like-minded criminals, and Malus’s justice system. But what surprised me the most was Declan’s easy acceptance of everything. The news was shocking, sure, but he was on board from the beginning.
“Where are y’all headed off to?” Declan asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
Maisy answers before Judge and I can.
“We’re going to see Uncle Emo. I’ve got a surprise for him.”
He smiles down at his niece, his eyes full of love. “I’m sure he’ll really enjoy that.”
I almost snort out a laugh. Emo doesn’t enjoy anything. Or rather, he doesn’t show his enjoyment. Declan doesn’t know that yet. He still hasn’t met him.
“I’ve got dinner covered for tonight,” he informs us, grabbing a grocery bag from the back of his car. “I hope you don’t mind, but I invited Susan over.”
Judge tips his chin down. “Sure.”
I still get excited thinking about Declan with Susan. Things seem to be working out well for them.
We talk for a few more minutes before piling into Judge’s car. The drive is short and Maisy chatters nonstop. Her excitement is palpable and an utter joy to witness.
When we pull up to Emo’s house a few minutes later, she’s nearly bouncing in her seat, a big smile stretching across her face. As soon as the car is off, she’s unbuckling her seat belt and grabbing for the door handle. Judge and I meet her in front of the car.
Grace, who was out of town and came home a couple of days ago when she heard Emo was shot, opens the door as we’re walking up the steps. She’s gorgeous, with shoulder-length blonde hair and eyes so light blue they almost look clear. Judge informed me that she’ll be Maisy’s teacher when school starts.
It’s quite apparent the woman cares deeply for Emo—I could see it in the distraught look in her eyes the day she arrived at his house while we were visiting.
“Hey,” she greets, her smile genuine.
&n
bsp; “How is he today?” Judge asks.
One side of her mouth quirks up. “Still stubborn, refusing to stay still for long. Grumpy because I won’t let him do anything.”
“Figures,” he grumbles, shaking his head.
Grace’s eyes drop to an impatient Maisy. “I bet he’ll be happy to see you though.”
Maisy grins, her face radiant at the prospect of Emo being happy to see her.
She turns and leads us into the house. Maisy immediately spots Emo’s stiff form on the couch, legs outstretched, with his hands on his thighs. One hand is fisted, and he stuffs it into his pocket, pulling it out a moment later and relaxing it back on his thigh.
Maisy rushes over to him, stopping before she bumps into his knees. His expression is blank, but I see the twitch of his eyebrow, belying a hidden emotion.
“Hi, Uncle Emo.”
The insides of every person in the room melt at her softly spoken words and the adoring way she looks at him.
“Hello,” he answers gruffly.
Maisy sits down beside him, careful to not jostle the couch, bringing her backpack to her lap and unzipping it. She pulls out a box about the size of a shoe box and hands it to him.
He looks down at it for a moment, his brows dipping into a frown, before gazing back at her.
“What is it?”
She smiles. “Open it and you’ll see. I made it for you.”
His hesitation is only seconds long before he pulls the lid off. Confusion deepens his frown as he stares at the contents.
“It’s a first aid kit because I know you hurt yourself a lot. I wanted to make sure you had everything you needed to doctor your wounds so they don’t get infected or leave scars. Uncle Trouble gave me some of the stuff, and Mom and Dad took me to the store to get the rest.”
Tears prick the back of my eyes. When Maisy came to me yesterday and asked if she could make a first aid kit for Emo, a hopeful look in her eyes, I couldn’t deny her. I know about Emo’s key and the way he uses it against his body. I also know Emo rarely tends to the lesions and doesn’t care about the scars he leaves behind. Judge also told me about the day he came by Emo’s house, witnessed him gauging himself with the key, and proceeded to tend to it himself with peroxide and Neosporin.
As strange as it may sound, Emo caring for his wounds was one of the nicest things he could have done for Maisy. It means he listened and cared about her concern over him.
“Would either of you like something to drink?” Grace asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
I’m just about to decline when Judge grabs my hand. “Yes. We’d love something to drink.”
My eyes slide back to Maisy and Emo as we leave the room. She’s showing him each item in the kit.
After Grace hands us each a glass of ice water, Judge leans back against the counter, one foot crossed over the other. “How’s your dad?”
Grace blows out a breath, ruffling the hair lying over her forehead. “He’s better. Not out of the woods yet, but we’ve hired a nurse to come in each day for a few hours. He’s fighting it, but he may need to be put in a home.”
Putting his glass on the counter, he crosses his arms over his chest, a contemplative look on his face. After a moment, he surprises Grace and me both.
“You could bring him here.”
Grace’s glass stops halfway to her mouth, her brows hitching up. “You’d allow that?”
“It’s your father, Grace,” he says gently. “We’d have to be cautious of what’s said around him, but I won’t stop you from bringing him here if it’ll make things easier for you. Malus is about family; caring for and protecting the ones you love.” His eyes slide to the doorway before bringing them back to her. “Besides, Emo needs you right now. In more ways than one. He came a bit unhinged while you were gone.”
She glances down at the glass, her eyes pensive as she stares down at the clear liquid.
“I’m surprised he didn’t call Janet or Madison.”
He grabs me by the pocket of my jeans and pulls me to his side, wrapping his arm around my waist. “We both know he prefers you over the other two. I don’t think he’s been with either of them for months now.”
Her head jerks up. “Really?”
“Yes.” He pauses a moment. “But don’t let that get to you, Grace. You know he’s not capable of anything more than he’s given already.”
She nods, her lips tipping up to resemble a smile, but it looks forced. “I know.”
While they spend the next few minutes talking, I walk over to the fridge where a homemade card has been taped to the surface. It’s the one Maisy made and gave to him the first day we visited. It’s simply made, with the words Get Well Soon on the front in colorful curly letters. With a smile teasing my lips, I flip it open and read the inside.
Uncle Emo,
I hope you get better soon. Thank you for saving my life.
Love forever,
Maisy
She drew a bouquet of flowers, each one a different color.
“He put that up as soon as you left the other day.” I look to Grace, who has moved beside me. Her eyes are on the card, her expression warm. “In the three years I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him smile, but I could see it in his eyes when he taped that to the fridge. It made him happy.”
That’s Maisy. She has the ability to make anyone happy.
Reaching over, I place my hand on hers. “Don’t listen to Judge,” I say, keeping my voice low. “Emo is capable of love. Probably more so than any of his brothers. Never give up hope.”
“I appreciate what you’ve said, and I agree that he’s capable of great love, but it’s bottled inside him so deep, I don’t think he’ll ever release it. Emo tries to hide it, but he really is a wonderful man, despite the cruelties of his childhood.”
Her smile is sad as she squeezes my hand and walks away. My heart hurts for her. To care about a man who’s caged by his past, not allowing himself to see the beauty of the present, must be excruciating for her. Losing Judge the way I did was unbearably hard, but he was gone. Having Maisy was a constant reminder of him, but I loved her with my whole heart. I, at least, had her to help lessen the pain that resided inside my heart. Grace saw Emo on a regular basis. Her unrequited feelings are constantly thrown in her face. I’m not sure I would have been able to handle it had I been in her situation.
I relax against the hard chest when I feel arms wrap around me from behind. His face nuzzles against the crook of my neck, tickling my flesh.
“Hmm… you smell so good,” he whispers, laying kisses along my shoulder.
I release a sigh and lay my arms over his. “I feel so bad for Grace.”
His cheeks rests against mine. “She’ll be okay. She knows nothing permanent will ever happen with Emo.”
“Because of what his father did to him?”
He nods. “And because of Rella. His guilt for what happened to her won’t let him form deep feelings for anyone else. He feels he doesn’t deserve any form of happiness. That’s part of the reason why he hurts himself with that key. It reminds him of where he came from and what he thinks he’s capable of.”
I frown. “Capable of?”
His arms tighten around me, his voice deepening. “He blames himself for not stopping his father from forcing him to do things to Rella. He was just a kid, and his father was a bulky and mean motherfucker, so there’s no way he could have stopped him, but Emo doesn’t see it that way. No matter what my brothers, Mae, or I tell him, he still puts all the pain Rella endured on his own shoulders.”
I turn in his arms and look up at him. “What is the key to? What does it unlock?”
His brows furrow and his gaze drifts over my head. He stares across the room for several seconds, lost in thought, before shaking his head and looking down at me. “It’s the key to hell,” he answers cryptically.
Before I get the chance to ask him what he means, he leans down and presses a kiss agai
nst my lips. “Let’s go check on our girl.”
Back out in the living room, Grace is nowhere to be seen, but we find Maisy and Emo on the couch. She’s sitting so close to him that the whole side of her body is pressed against the side of his. She has her tablet out on her lap, her feet barely touching the floor, tapping the screen every few seconds. Emo’s head is tilted down with his ever-present emotionless expression, but his attention seems to be focused solely on what she’s showing him.
I wrap my arm around Judge’s back, and we both just stand there and watch the pair.
Emo gave us a special gift when he put himself in front of the bullet that was meant for Maisy, and there’s not a day that will go by that I won’t silently thank him for it.
I just hope one day he’ll know the kind of happiness that he granted us.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
JUDGE
AS I LOOK DOWN AT THE bitch who almost took everything from me, not an ounce of remorse enters my subconscious at what is about to happen to her. Most people would sympathize with Sierra because of the abuse she was subjected to at Gary’s depraved hands. All of my pity left me when she swung the gun in the direction of my daughter and pulled the trigger.
Hatred isn’t a strong enough word for what I feel for the woman. Death is the only punishment for a person like her. Nothing else will suffice.
My brothers and I stand around her in our usual fashion. I’m in front of her with Emo across from me and Trouble and JW are to the sides, across from each other. Sierra is on her knees, her arms loose and hanging by her sides. The bruises she inflicted on herself are a nasty brown and yellow. The one on her temple where JW hit her with the butt of his gun to knock her out is a blackish purple.
She holds my stare with cold eyes. Not once has she struggled or begged for her life, because she knows it’s useless. Her time has come to an end, and there’s not a damn thing she can do about it.