by Lannah Smith
"I told you it's not your fault," Christopher's hand went to both sides of April's neck. "It's not your fault that he died, honey."
April stared up at him, crying.
Then she put her hands to his chest and shoved him away, saying, "But it's my fault. Dan got killed because of me. Me."
Her voice sounded funny to Hannah, rough, tortured, and Hannah's stomach clenched.
"I have to leave," April whispered in the same voice.
"No fucking way," Christopher growled dangerously. "I won't ever let you go so don’t go there again, April. Please."
"You heard her. How can I live such life knowing I have so much blood on my hands?"
"Your father's hands, not yours. You didn't kill him."
Hannah watch April's face wash over with pain and devastation "But it was me he was trying to protect!" she screamed. "Me! Worthless me! fucking me!"
"April—."
She got close to him and kept screaming, "Think about it, God, think about it, Christopher! All your problems right now are because of me! This situation escalated because of me! And if... if something happens to Emilia, to Terry, to everyone close to you because of me, I can't handle that. I might as well just kill myself!"
His face got harder and he pulled her close to him by the shoulders, gently shaking her. "We've been through this. I won't let that woman turn your thoughts back into the dark again."
To Hannah's dismay, disappointment, anger and sadness, April shook her head at Christopher.
"It has always been in the dark," she mumbled. "I've never really come out. I should have pushed you away. I should have kept pushing everyone away. Bad things happen to people close to me. You'll all die. You know you'll all get hurt because of me."
Christopher glared down at her.
Then he tore his hand through his air, something Hannah knew was his way of losing patience, something that was horrible to see because Christopher rarely lost his patience.
And it was horrible, seeing the panic in his expression. The misery, the pain, the devastation.
But it was worse to see on April.
Christopher had been trying to tell Hannah that she had the wrong idea about April Locke. She had tried to ignore that, not wanting to admit that she was wrong but now, she could admit that she was indeed wrong.
She had thought of April as someone who lived like a princess and who acted like a queen. So she stubbornly tried to clung on to her beliefs, trying not to feel anything for the queen but she failed.
Because at that moment, she understood.
April wasn't the villainess of this story anymore.
She was the tortured heroine.
And it was time Hannah forgive her for the past.
"Give her to me," she said, stepping out into the hall and reaching for April.
Christopher stared at her in shock. April looked terrified to see her and it was also horrible to see that.
"Come, April." Hannah took her cold, shaking hand. "Let's fix your make-up and return or a newly-wedded bride might take it to the streets looking for you."
"I can't..." April tried to shake her hold but Hannah squeezed it tight.
"You can stay in Terry's old rooms while Christopher fix this mess. Let's go."
"I..."
"Don't let her get into your head," she whispered.
April shook her head. "You don't understand."
It took everything, everything, but Hannah fought back the sting of tears in her eyes and the fire burning in her throat.
April loved Christopher. Hannah had seen how much April loved Christopher and the determination to keep him happy. Hannah had seen how much she cared for Emilia and how she depended on Terry and Sophia now. Hannah had seen how unsure April was around Leon, John and Rohan and how she was trying not to piss them off.
She was doing her best to be a good person. To build a nice life. To show the genuine her, not the queen bitch she pretended to be.
Now April was trying to let all that go because of her father's sins.
"I don't need to understand," Hannah murmured to her. "Just don't let that woman get into your head and destroy everything you've been trying to build."
April's eyes roamed her face before coming back to hers.
"But you hate my guts," she murmured back.
Hannah smiled. "I'd rather keep you here than have you leave Christopher. You’ll destroy him." Her eyes went to Christopher. “And I don’t ever want him to see get his heart sliced open and his soul crushed all over again because I just know that he won’t ever be fixed.”
April stared at her and Hannah could see her mind working.
Hannah didn't let it finish working.
Nodding at Christopher, she wrapped an arm around April's back and led her away. Alec immediately stepped out of the shadows and went to Christopher and Hannah knew Christopher was going to need some time to calm himself down.
Upstairs, in Terry’s old bedroom, April cried on Hannah’s shoulder, blubbering about her completely messed-up and tragic life. Terry, Emilia and Sophia had the palest faces while they listened. Hannah felt her heart sank with each word and felt immense fury burning through her with every tear that rolled down April’s beautiful face.
Because now, she understood why April was the way she was.
And Hannah resolved that no more misfortune would befall on April Locke anymore. Not when she was around.
From then on, Hannah became April's fiercest protector and ally.
Chapter 69
"Are those scars from a fight?"
No sooner than those words left my lips, Alec, startled by my sudden appearance at his bedroom door, made a frantic grab for his shirt.
I was lucky. He would have grabbed his gun beside the shirt if he hadn't realized quickly that it was just me.
"Jesus Christ, Miss Locke," he growled, pulling the shirt over his chiseled body marred by scars. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
I shrugged. “Christopher sent me.”
“He what?”
“I didn’t know you lived a floor below us,” I looked around his bedroom that was painted a sterile white and was sparsely decorated with only a bed, closet and nightstand, like he was about to leave anytime he wished. “You need to hire a decorator, Alec. Or if you want, I could do it for you for free—.”
“Where the hell is Mr. Lawrence?” he interrupted, shoving past me without putting on his shoes.
I turned and followed him. He stood in the middle of his living room, hands on his hips, looking like he was about to blow.
“I told you Christopher sent me down here,” I explained, looking for a place to sit and finding none. “I wanted to make tea and he said you borrowed the kettle. So here I am.”
He gave me a look of deep incredulity. “You have four kettles in your home, Miss Locke.”
Deciding to sit at the windowsill, I looked at him and said, “I may have been a tiny bit curious where you lived.”
Christopher would have to lock our doors and watch his back extra carefully tonight if he didn’t want Alec to come after him. Because from the look on Alec’s face, Christopher was going to deeply regret sending me here.
The thought amused me.
Then the image of Alec’s back sobered me up.
“About your scars…”
Alec whipped his head to me. “What of it?”
I pressed my lips together before unpressing them to say, "If you're Christopher’s right-hand why are you acting like a shield? That would make him uneasy, won't it?"
He stared at me for a while.
Then he said, "I started as a bullet."
My head jerked back. "A bullet?"
"Yeah. Since I was in middle school."
Dear, God.
My stomach lurched. I could not believe I was hearing this.
A bullet was a low-ranking gang member who wasn't expected to make it out of their assignment alive.
And he had been a gang-member since middle school
. I knew of this because I kept tabs on all the groups, big or small, in the city.
I felt protectiveness swell up inside of me at that thought. His life before Christopher had been shitty. I was going to dedicate my remaining life to make it happy.
And those scars. Those were a variety of nasty knife scars. But I'd put my money down that the other guys got worse when they fought him.
I glared at Alec, otherwise, I'd cry. "Your family are assholes."
Alec lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "No use dredging up the past."
“Are they still alive?”
The question made his face go completely blank. He turned away from me and made his way to the kitchen. Worried I offended him too much, I stayed where I was. And started making plans to decorate his entire apartment.
I scanned the space around me. There were no chairs, no shelves, no books, no stereos, no carpeting on the floor. Not even a damn calendar on the wall or a TV. This place had a serious need of some TLC and I was going to be make sure it gets it.
Alec returned while I was picking out the wallpaper in my mind. He was holding a kettle.
“Go home,” he said, giving it to me.
“Won’t you have tea with us?” I asked, getting up the windowsill.
“I’m a busy person, Miss Locke.”
“Won’t you please have tea with us?” I repeated firmly.
He didn’t answer.
I took a step closer to him, looking straight into his shuttered eyes.
Then I said in a low voice, “I know you still blame yourself.”
It was written all over him.
His face turned to stone and his eyes flashed but he didn't speak.
“I wish you’d stop blaming yourself, Alec,” I pleaded.
I couldn't allow him to think that it was his fault how Dan's widow disparaged me in front of many people at Terry's wedding reception. I knew he'd been beating himself over it despite me getting over it fairly quick with help from the most unlikely people who I thought wouldn't give it to me.
“You gave me that task and I couldn’t keep her away from you,” he murmured just as low. But I heard it. I heard the regret in his tone and saw it in his face, even felt it in the room. “I let her get to you. I failed you.”
“I wished you wouldn’t see it that way. You never failed me in any way. You were there for me, Alec.” I got closer and whispered, “You always were there for me. Unbearable attitude and all. And I’d like to think it’s because you like me, not because Christopher ordered you to take care of me.”
Something profoundly sad moved over his features as he put his hands on his hips and looked down at his bare feet.
"And it wasn't all that unpleasant," I told him. "Hannah has stop disliking me and has become my friend. People who have sworn to hate me for eternity are now swearing they would harm anyone who'd try to make me cry." I shook my head, smiling softly in remembrance. "Even Haru Evans who had once confronted and threatened me with violence back in high school to lay off his sister has given me his word that I'd have his protection."
"You're under the protection of Christopher Lawrence," Alec said in a highly-insulted tone. "You don't need his when you have us."
"Of course," I immediately agreed. "I have you after all."
He looked pacified by this. "Well, you already have your kettle. You may now leave."
"Only if you promise you'll go up for tea in an hour."
"Miss Locke—."
"It was hard, living in that world," I cut him off.
He went silent.
"It would be harder, living in this world knowing a good person is blaming himself for something that he shouldn't be blaming himself for."
"You don't understand." He shook his head. "It doesn't change the fact that I—."
“You’ve already had to deal with a variety of dramas, most of them coming from me,” I cut him off again. “And I want an end to all those dramas. I’m tired of crying. I’m tired of blaming myself. I’m tired of letting people blame themselves for everything that has happened to me.”
He shook his head again. "It's not that easy—."
"If I have to order you to stop blaming yourself, I will," I warned him. "I am your boss's..." I paused and he noticed my hesitancy.
"You’re my boss's what?" he asked in a mock-innocent tone, tilting his head to the side.
Taking a deep breath, I whispered, "Your boss's girlfriend."
I had never said that out loud. I had never put a label on my relationship with Christopher nor did he exactly call me his girlfriend in front of people. He was always telling them that I was the woman he loved. And I liked hearing him say that so much.
"I'd like to get to know you more someday, Alec," I continued quickly before he could tease me. "When the situation with my father is over, can you give me the chance?"
Something flickered in Alec's eyes, something that made me brace. They looked over my shoulder for an instant, like he was trying to control his expression, then went back to me.
"If that's what you wish," he said but his voice this time had become a bit softer.
Something about this hit me somewhere deep.
I stared into his gray eyes, thinking how fortunate I was that I had Alec Jackman in my life because he had filled the hole Dan’s death had left me.
Until it overflowed.
Because he did more. So much more for me.
He was a good man. He helped fixed the broken me, helped me endure, saved my life as he did with Christopher. His care, his kindness, his understanding, his protection, I depended on them. On him. And I wished he’d depend on me more.
I wished to be his friend.
"What about you?" I asked Alec. "What's your wish?"
“I wish you away, Miss Locke,” he this time said in a warmer and amused voice.
“No more of that Miss Locke, Alec,” I scolded him. “Call me April. And promise me you'll come up within the hour.”
I saw humor light in his eyes. I saw the soft smile on his lips.
And I felt the squeeze in my chest.
Then Alec patted my head and used the same hand to gently push me to the door.
“I wish you away then, April. And I promise to come up within the hour.”
Chapter 70
Leon could never breathe properly when April Locke was around.
He lifted the glass to his lips and took a sip of his coke, staring at her over the rim. She was laughing at something Hannah was showing her on the bride’s magazine they were poring over together on the white sofa of Terry and John’s home. And that laugh had made her beauty radiant.
It always drew his gaze. Her laugh. Her customary expression back in high school was dark and hostile and Leon noticed now that her gray eyes were no longer hard and distrustful but luminous with a depthless warmth and tenderness.
“Do you regret it?”
Leon’s gaze went to John by his side.
John was staring at April when he said, “Do you regret not making things serious with her?”
“The only thing I regret is not giving her the help she needed,” he muttered, putting his drink down from his lips. “If I knew—.”
“You’d be dead.”
He clenched his jaw.
John slid his gaze to him.
“You’d be dead, Leon,” he repeated in a hard voice. “And you only lived now because she protected you from the truth.”
“I know.” Leon sucked in a breath and exhaled. “That’s why I regret not giving a shit about her.”
“What about me?” John shook his head in disgust. “I was an absolute shithole to her.”
This caused Leon to smile. “You were.”
“I mean, she provoked me, you know but still, I wished I was kinder to her.”
“She’d spit in your face if you tried to be kind,” Leon said, laughing, drawing Sophia’s eyes to him. He gave her a wink and saw red covering her cheeks before she returned her gaze to the magazine Terry and Emili
a was arguing over.