by McLean, Jay
Nothing.
Great. She’s ignoring me.
I wait a few seconds before knocking again. This time her door opens, just enough so she can peek through it.
“Hi.” I smile, hoping to God it’s enough.
She doesn’t return my smile. Instead, she looks down at her feet, her tone flat when she says, “What’s up?”
“Can I come in?”
She shakes her head and opens the door wider—just slightly—before stepping out. “What’s up?” she asks again.
My eyes narrow at her now-closed door. “You got someone in there?”
“What do you want, Ky?” she asks, her chin in the air like she’s attempting to rein in whatever confidence I’d stripped from her last night.
And now she’s avoiding my questions. Fucking perfect.
“I wanted to apologize.”
“Is that it?”
I shrug. It’s all I can do. “I guess.”
She opens the door just enough to squeeze through, and without another word, I’m faced with yet another closed door.
There has to be someone in there. Someone she doesn’t want me to see. Probably a guy she has on speed dial to physically take away the pain I’d caused.
I want to puke.
I don’t.
Instead I go back in my apartment, shower, and make my way to stupid fucking therapy.
“How’re things going with the girl?” is the first thing Dr. Aroma asks when I get in her office.
“They’re not.”
“Why not? Did something happen?”
“I think I’d like today to be one of those silent sessions where you just judge me and make me feel shittier than I already do.”
She picks up her pen and notepad and starts scribbling.
I stare out the window.
This lasts an hour.
I tell her time’s up.
She nods and waves goodbye.
And I go back to my self-pity and self-loathing.
Chapter 13
I feel around my nightstand for my ringing phone, my eyes still closed and my body unwilling to wake up. When I finally find it, I hit answer and groan into it.
“Parker.”
“DeLuca? What fucking time is it?”
Seconds of silence pass. “I need you to meet me. Now.”
“Where?” I ask, throwing the covers off of me and rubbing my eyes.
“I’ll text you,” he says, his tone clipped. He doesn’t give me a chance to respond before hanging up, and when he does, I check the time. It’s six in the goddamn morning. And now I’m officially pissed—I no longer have control of anything in my life, and now DeLuca feels he has the right to bark orders at me.
And I have no fucking choice but to obey.
“Are you a cop?” DeLuca asks, taking a sip of his drink. We’re sitting in a deli around the corner from my apartment. It’s completely empty, apart from the seedy-looking guy fucking around on his phone behind the counter.
I hadn’t told Jackson I was meeting with DeLuca, and now I’m starting to regret it. “Do I look like a cop?”
DeLuca leans forward and narrows his eyes. “What’s your story, Parker?”
“I’m between jobs,” I say, attempting to sound bored.
“No. I mean, who are you? Have you got a wife? Kids? Pets? What makes you tick? What makes you wake up in the morning?”
Nothing. Absolutely nothing but a girl I can’t get out of my goddamn head. With a sigh, I lean back in my chair, wanting him to get out of my space. “What’s your point?”
“I don’t trust you.”
“I don’t trust you, either, so I guess we’re even.”
He lifts a finger in the air, like he’s about to gift me with his shitty words of wisdom. But what he says is: “You don’t need to trust me. That’s the thing, Ky. You’re completely replaceable to me. That built-up rage you have—the one that’s worked its way so deep inside you that you can’t breathe—that’s there forever. And you have no other outlet.” He laughs mockingly. “I’m your ticket; I’m your outlet.” He pauses a moment, tilting his head, letting his eyes bore into mine. “I’d love to know what happened to you. And I know it’s not the war. No… that’s not it. Not all of it, anyway. So what happened?” He smirks. “Did you fuck the wrong girl?”
My fingers ache from their grip on the side of my chair. It’s the only thing holding me back from rushing across the table and treating his face like my personal punching bag.
His menacing chuckle fills my head with fury. “That’s it, isn’t it?” he continues, leaning forward again. “Or at least part of it. Is that why you enlisted—to get away from her? I bet you disappointed a lot of people when you left, huh? Your perfect parents. Your brothers and sisters?”
My jaw tightens.
He smiles. “Yeah, that’s it. And guilt. I bet that guilt eats away at you, burning every last piece of your soul to the point where you’ll never let yourself be happy. I bet—”
My chair scrapes across the floor as I stand and lunge for him.
But he’s fast.
Too fast.
The cold metal of his gun presses against my forehead before I’ve even stood to full height.
DeLuca’s eyes narrow, but they’re calm.
Too fucking calm.
Fuck, I want to kill him.
Right here and now.
Bare hands.
Fuck the consequences.
“I own you now,” he whispers before lowering the gun and shoving his hands in the front pocket of his sweatshirt. He lifts the hood over his head, straightens up, and casually walks out the door.
I eye the guy behind the counter, but he’s too preoccupied with his phone to notice what just happened.
I let DeLuca fucking get to me.
And worse—I let him see my fear.
I’ve walked halfway back to my apartment before realizing that I have no fucking idea why DeLuca even wanted to meet. Was that his plan? To fuck with my head?
If so, it worked.
And I’m done playing his games.
I stand just outside the apartment doors and call Jackson, who answers first ring. “I saw that he called this morning. Are you meeting him?”
“I just did.”
“You’re supposed to tell me before you do anything. Have I not made it clear enough how dangerous this guy can be?”
“Probably not, but him holding a gun to my head just now may have done the trick.”
“Fuck! Tell me you’re joking.”
“Jax, it’s fine. I handled it.” Lie. I’m still not handling it. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“Are you doing this for you or me?”
“What’s the right answer here?”
“The truth, Jax.”
“Both.” He clears his throat. “Thank you, Ky.”
“No need.”
“Call Mom!” He hangs up.
I rub my eyes, hoping to hell this day will just end. When I open them, my heart drops to my stomach. Watching Madison walk from the elevator to the mailbox is like a sweet form of torture. Her hand shifts around the box and comes back empty. I find myself smiling, though I know I shouldn’t, and when she turns around, catching me mid-stare, she does something completely unexpected. She smiles. And that smile remains as she walks to the door, her hips swaying from side to side.
I don’t blink.
I don’t move.
I’m in a trance, completely tangled in a web of nothing but Madison. For a moment, it feels right. And in that moment, I forget about the shit DeLuca just pulled.
She opens the door and sticks her head out, her eyes squinting from the little bit of sun peeking through the clouds. “Morning,” she says, her voice smooth.
“Morning,” I reply, trying to look her in the eyes. But I can’t, because when I do, all I see is her pain—her pain and my regret.
She steps out of the doorway and stands a foot in front of me. �
��It’s nice out,” she says. “And I’m pretty sure you owe me a walk.”
Relief washes through me. “I have somewhere to be,” I tell her, and when her face falls, I quickly add, “But I’d love for you to join me.”
She grins from ear-to-ear and settles her hand in the crook of my elbow. “Where are you taking me?”
She bounces on her toes as I lead us away, and instead of answering her question, I pull us to the side until her back is pressed against a building. “You okay?”
She looks up, confused. “What do you mean?”
“Not that I’m complaining, but after what happened I swore you’d never speak to me again, yet here we are…”
“I’m sorry,” she says, but it comes out a question.
“You’re sorry? I’m the one—”
She shakes her head quickly, cutting me off. “No, Ky. I was…” There’s a hint of hesitation before she reaches out and links our hands. “I’m new… to whatever it is that’s happening with you and me. You did the right thing. Honestly. It’s just that, I guess I have a lot of self-doubts and very little self-confidence. So maybe I took it out of context—that’s not your problem; it’s mine. And I’m here because I want to try to work on it. And I’m hoping that maybe you can help me with that.”
With a smile, I lean in close to her ear. “So if I tell you that I think you’re beautiful, will that help?”
She nods slowly, a slight smile on her face, and it’s all the answer I need. She says, “I like you, Ky, I really do…”
“As much as you like that mailbox?” I ask, hoping to steer her away from whatever rejection she’s about to hand me.
It works, because she tosses her head back with her laugh.
“I have to admit, I do have a strong case of jealousy. If one day you wake up and there’s a giant Hulk-smash fist through it, just know that it started it first.”
She smiles. “So, friends?” she asks.
“Friends,” I agree, and as the word leaves my mouth, I hadn’t expected it to feel so right.
I need a friend, a distraction from everything else. She could totally be my distraction. I hold her hand and continue our walk.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”
“We’re here.” I stop to open the door of Debbie’s Flowers and wait until she steps inside, and when she does, she freezes immediately, her hands at her sides. Then she inhales deeply, her eyes closed and her smile getting wider with each passing second.
All I can do is stare, fascinated by her reaction. It’s as if she’s just gained the sense of smell and is appreciating it for the first time. She inhales twice more before finally opening her eyes. “It’s beautiful,” she whispers, and somehow I find myself smiling with her.
“What can I help you with?” the older woman behind the counter asks.
I take Madison’s hand and lead her there, pulling out my credit card at the same time. “I need to get a dozen white lilies delivered, please.”
The woman smiles at Madison first and then at me. “This is the third time you’ve been in here. I remember your order.” Not in the mood for small talk, I hand over my card and give the old lady the delivery details. “This isn’t for her?” the woman asks, nodding her head at Madison. I look down at her nametag: Debbie, of course.
“No, ma’am.”
Madison releases my hand and starts to walk around the store while Debbie gets the order ready. I use the time that Madison’s distracted to purchase something extra. Something small. Something hers.
“Give me your keys,” Ky says as we enter our building.
I stop and face him. “What?”
With his hand out, palm up, he motions toward it.
I hesitate for a second before reaching into my bag and finding the keys. His eyes light up, matching the goofy grin on his handsome face. “Turn around,” he orders.
“What?”
“Turn around,” he repeats, louder and firmer.
I do as he asks.
His footsteps move farther away, right before I hear the lock turning in a mailbox. He comes back a moment later and drops the keys in my bag, then grabs my hand. “Let’s go!”
I look longingly at my mailbox while he drags me to the elevator. “But—”
He cuts me off. “It’s the element of surprise, remember?”
I dig my heels in the floor and grasp his hand tighter. Looking into his eyes, I suppress my smile when I tell him, “I can’t wait.” Slowly, I back away from him and move closer to the mailboxes.
He sighs and shakes his head, but he’s smiling as his eyes fixate on mine. I wonder if he can see my excitement, because I’m sure having a hard time containing it. My fingers shake when I place the key in the lock, the anticipation bursting out of me. I stop to take a breath, then another, as I try to calm myself down, try to savor this moment.
Ky comes up behind me and places his hands on my waist, the warmth of it causing my heart to race. He dips his mouth to my ear. “Go ahead.”
I don’t hesitate this time. I open the box, reach in, and pull out the single short-stemmed yellow rose. My breath catches on a gasp, too many emotions hitting me at once. I push them all back and take a moment to gather my thoughts. Then I lift the rose to my nose and inhale deeply. Tears fill my eyes, but I don’t care. I turn to him, a million voices in my head wanting to tell him everything. Instead, I lower the rose and let him see me. “Thank you, Ky.”
He nods in response. “Yellow roses—the flower of friendship.”
Chapter 14
Tapping her pen on her notepad, Dr. Aroma eyes me curiously. “I’d love to play this little guessing game, but I have a feeling it’ll be easier if you just tell me what it is that has you a little more relaxed and smiling today.”
“I’m not smiling,” I say defensively.
“Well,” she says, “you’re not exactly pissed at the world like you were last time.”
I roll my eyes. “Do all girls like flowers?”
She sets her pen and notepad on the seat next to her. “What’s her name?”
“Madison.”
“And you want to give her flowers?”
I shrug.
She laughs a little. “Most girls do. Tell me about her?”
“She’s… different, I guess.”
“How?”
“I don’t know,” I tell her, the uncertainty in my voice evident. “She’s kind of hot as fuck, but she doesn’t know it. Makes her hotter, you know?”
Smiling, she asks, “Has Jax met her?”
“Who?” I tease.
Her face falls and she clears her throat, squirming in her seat as she attempts to rein in a level of professionalism. “I mean Detective Davis.”
I raise an eyebrow at her slip-up. “How well do you know Jax?”
“Time’s up.”
There’s a knock on my door. It’s quiet. Timid, almost. Which only means one thing, and that one thing has me grinning like an idiot. Madison stands on the other side with a pizza in her hands. “Your place or mine?”
I open the door wider for her. We’d only been apart for a couple of hours, and I was already looking forward to seeing her again. Taking the pizza box from her, I set it on the coffee table and link both her hands in mine.
We stare at each other, trying to contain our matching smiles.
“You missed me, huh?” I ask.
“I was hungry.”
Laughing, I lead her to the couch, pulling her down with me and scooting her ass as close as possible.
She faces me. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“The flowers—”
My instant smirk cuts her off.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You want to know who they were for?” I can’t wipe the smug smile off my face. “Are you jealous?”
“No!” she all but shouts.
“My mom. Well, my foster mom. Kind of. They’re for her,” I admit. “I’ve
been sending her flowers once a month since her husband passed away five years ago.”
“You call her your mom?”
I shrug. “She’s the closest thing I have to the real thing.”
“That’s sweet.”
I take one of her hands and trace lazy circles on her palm. “So Jeff… he used to come home with them once a month on the date of their anniversary. White lilies were their wedding flower. Today’s their monthly wedding anniversary.” I smile to myself, lost in my thoughts, in my memories of them. “It was kind of beautiful… the way they were. I’d never really witnessed what love was until they took me in.”
“That is beautiful,” she whispers. “And I’m sorry about Jeff but…” she trails off.
“But what?”
“Nothing. I’m just nosy.”
“No. What were you going to say?”
She straightens up, as if preparing for battle. “It’s just that I saw a sign at the shop and it said local delivery only…so she’s local, right? Why not just give them to her?”
I release an anxious breath, trying to find the right words. “I haven’t spoken to her since I was eighteen. I doubt she even knows they’re from me.”
“So who would she think they’re from?”
A single laugh escapes me. “Probably Jackson.”
“Jackson?”
I lift my gaze to hers. She’s concentrating on my finger tracing her palm. “Her son.”
“Do you keep in touch with him?”
“We just started talking again....”
She looks up from her hand—her eyes now focused on mine. “Did you miss him?”
“Yeah. I really did.”
Ky: Age Seventeen
I locked myself in my room for three days. Three days I didn’t see Jackson or Christine. And in those three days, Jackson became our rock, our strength. I don’t know how he did it—but he must’ve known we needed saving, or at least knew Christine did. Me though? He had no fucking clue how badly I needed someone—something—to take my pain away.