by Voss, Deja
“Please,” he says. “I promise you’ll never see me again. You won’t hear from me again. I have lots of money. I’ll give you anything you want. My fiancée, she’s a pretty good fuck, you guys can have her. I’ll never say a word!”
His desperation almost makes me laugh. This guy is a certified scumbag, willing to sell out his family for his own life. He might have been trying to avenge his father, or his uncle, but when it comes time to face the music and do the dirty work, he’s sad and pathetic.
“You need to learn how to read a room, dude,” I say, shaking my head. “He’s married, he’s getting married tomorrow, you met my woman and obviously she’s more than a ‘pretty good fuck,’ and these two sick fuckers would rather watch a man bleed to death than get on top of your haggard-ass fiancée.”
“He’s right.” Austin shrugs.
“Hey now,” Goob chuckles. “Don’t insult the poor woman. You’d be haggard too if you had to wake up every day next to this motherfucker.”
“Well lucky for her, that’s never going to happen again.”
I see the fear in his eyes, and it only fuels me.
“You want your wrench, buddy?” Gavin asks. “How about my pistol?”
“Nah,” I laugh, cracking my knuckles. “I’m gonna do this with my bare hands. Red would’ve wanted it that way.”
39
“Thanks, guys,” I say to Trixie and Heat, who are sitting around Olive’s kitchen table, a half drank bottle of bourbon sitting in the center. “I bet you’re exhausted.”
“Long night for everyone,” Trixie says. “Long, sad night. You look like hell, son.”
I feel like hell. I might have solved one problem back there in shed, but it still doesn’t bring my best friend back. It still doesn’t give my old lady any peace of mind. I think I’m still in shock, adrenaline pumping through my veins after a fresh kill. I grab the bottle of bourbon from the table. I know the comedown is going to be worse than any hangover I could give myself. I don’t know how I’m going to sift through the wreckage.
“Don’t go back there looking like that,” Heat says. “She’s seen enough today.” He’s right. I hang my cut on the back of the chair and strip down to my boxer briefs. I throw my bloodied clothes in the trash bag and pull it tight.
“Will you grab this on your way out?”
“I’d hug you, boy, but even in circumstances like these, I have a policy against coming anywhere near your nearly naked body,” he laughs. His smile is sad. I’m getting used to that look. We’re all trying to smile through this, all trying to keep our spirits up, if only for Ollie, but shit’s going to hit the fan soon.
Gavin, Brooks, Austin, and Goob filter into the kitchen, and Evie pokes her head up from the back of the couch.
“Daddy!” she squeals when she spots Gavin.
“What are you doing awake?” he asks, scooping her up in his arms. “You ready to go home, princess?”
I don’t know what it is about that tender moment that pushes me over the edge. Maybe it’s the fact that she’s so innocent to all the darkness, all the madness, that goes on around here. Maybe it’s because that’s going to be me soon.
“I’ll be in the shower,” I say. I lock myself in the tiny spare bathroom and start the water running. I sit down on the floor of the shower and just let it all out, watching the red water swirl all over me and run down the drain.
40
Olive:
“I’m gonna go, love,” Sloan whispers, kissing me on the cheek. Her and Esther are curled up in my bed with me. I can see the sun shining through the cracks in the window blinds, but I have no idea how long I’ve been asleep. Maybe it’s been a day. Maybe it’s been a month. I run my hands over my belly. Likely, it’s only been a few minutes. I have a feeling sleep isn’t going to come easy anytime soon.
“Your wedding,” I say, realizing what this weekend was supposed to be. “Oh my God, your wedding.”
“It’s going to be ok, Ollie. What’s another day or two?”
“It’s not going to be ok,” Esther says. “The longer you wait, the more likely it is you’re going to come to your senses and realize that my brother is a jack off and you don’t want to marry him.”
“We can still be friends, Esther,” she laughs.
Evie jumps up on the bed with us. Gavin and Brooks stand in the doorway, just watching.
“Aunt Ollie is sick,” Evie says.
“No, peanut,” I smile, pulling her into my lap for a hug. “Aunt Ollie has a baby in her belly. Just like you were before your mommy had you.”
Her eyes grow wide and she pokes me in the belly button.
“Did you eat it?” she asks.
“That sounds about right,” Gavin says. “I don’t think we need to get into logistics today.”
“Is Tank alright?” I ask. I don’t know where he’s been. All I know is that his house is a pile of smoldering ashes, and nobody will even let me go to the bathroom by myself.
“He just got out of the shower,” Brooks says. “What do you think, ladies? Let’s get out of here and let these two get some rest.”
“If you need anything at all,” Esther says.
“I know. Thank you.”
I don’t bother getting up to see them off. I don’t know if I could if I tried. I feel weak and sad. I feel like the last twenty-four hours have just been this slow-motion nightmare, half awake, half asleep, neither state one that I can find any comfort in.
Then he comes to me. He doesn’t say a word, but the way he’s looking at me feels like the first time we met all those years ago. Fear mixed with curiosity. Reluctance twisted with electricity. The bags under his eyes suggest that he’s older than he is, but to me he looks young, virile, almost beautiful in his dark and mysterious way. My heart nearly stops beating. I feel this lump in my throat.
He’s mine. And I am only his. The way it was always meant to be.
I pull his body on top of mine, running my hands over his sinewed back, arching my back as he presses his hardness inside me, wordless, soundless, the feeling of skin on skin, nails in flesh, lips on my shoulder, his breath in my mouth, rooting me back in the reality that, as long as I have him, my world is complete.
We collide together, bodies twitching, eyes wide open, no one, nothing in the universe but the two of us. His tears soak my cheek as he rests his forehead on mine, and I take my hand and press it to my stomach, reminding him that our lives mean so much more than our past, wanting him to feel the wonder of the greatness we created together.
“Everything I need is right here,” he whispers, and I don’t know if he’s talking to me, himself, God, or someone else. I don’t care who he’s talking to, because I feel it too. With every fiber of my being, I know that everything I need, until the day I die, is right here in this room with me.
Epilogue
Are you absolutely positive you’re ok with this?” I ask Sloan as we sit side by side in her living room, having our hair done by two girls who work at Esther’s ranch.
“Ok with it?” She reaches over and grabs my hand. “You’ve been my best friend since we were four. I’ve imagined this is the way it would be my entire life. It’s a dream come true!”
I highly doubt Sloan’s dream wedding entailed the two of us having our make-up done by strippers. I highly doubt Sloan’s dream wedding got postponed six months. I highly doubt her big day involved my enormous pregnant belly waddling down the aisle, taking up about as much space as the entire bridal party.
Still, the fact that we are both getting married to the men we love on the same day, in the same place, kind of is a dream come true, for me at least. We’ve always been family, Sloan and I, and now that we’re both marrying into the club, that family is going to grow.
“You better keep your legs crossed, girl,” Trixie says, smiling from the doorway.
“You should’ve told me that nine months ago, Aunt Trixie,” I laugh. “Don’t you worry, though; this little guy still needs a month to marinat
e.”
“I’ve got a mimosa for my future sister-in-law and hot chocolate for my future nephew,” Esther says, handing us drinks. “No offense, Ollie, but I put a lid on it just in case.” That girl knows me pretty well. I don’t need any help spilling stuff on this ivory dress. Between my clumsiness and the kind of crowd that comes to a Misfit wedding, if I can make it through the ceremony without destroying this thing, it’ll be a miracle.
It’s early April, and although it’s beginning to warm up, there was a dusting of frost on the ground this morning. The ceremony is still going to be outside in the field of poppies that just started poking up from the soil where Tank and Red’s house once stood, waking up for the year, thousands of new lives taking root where we lost one of the most important ones. I don’t know who planted them, but I’m glad they did. Nothing will take away the sadness of that empty lot, but at least when I look out at it from the house we are building, I will see something other than the scorched earth.
It took me a few months to get some solid answers from Tank. I craved closure as much as he craved getting married. Not because I am still in love with that man who died to save my life, but because I needed to know why we had to spend the rest of our lives pretending like he just disappeared into the night without a trace, never to be heard from again.
When he proposed to me on Christmas Eve, I said no.
As much as I love him, as much as I know he’s my true soulmate, and as much as I want to spend the rest of my life with him, I refused to let myself be married into a life of secrets. It’s all or nothing. I’m not an old lady that stands on the sidelines, never knowing where my husband is or if he’s going to come home again.
I’d rather suffer the fear of knowing than live my life in a state of ignorance just to have the rug ripped out from under me over and over again.
Sure, he was protecting me from the truth. They all were. I didn’t leave my room for two weeks straight when I found out what actually happened that night, overwhelmed with the guilt that I brought this suffering on all of us from something that I did when I was younger, dumber, and easily persuaded by anyone who paid me the attention I didn’t get from my mother. I fell into the deepest depression I’ve ever known, my will to live buried by the noise in my head. The only time I could hear it was when I felt that kick inside of me, telling me to get up and eat something, urging me to look out the window at the snow-covered ground.
I felt guilty, I felt mad, and most of all, I felt terrified to bring a child into this life that I had chosen for myself.
Tank only left my side when it was absolutely critical during those dark times. He didn’t talk unless I wanted to. He didn’t bother me. He didn’t tell me I was acting crazy or tell me to get over it. He was just there for me in a way that no one had ever been before.
Sloan and Esther dropped by constantly, never letting a day go by without at least calling me to make sure I had everything I needed. When Sloan started bringing Evie with her on her visits, it was the only thing that finally moved me to get this train back on track.
Maybe this baby in me had to know sorrow that no one should ever have to before they were born, but I will never let them feel that way in their life. If there’s anyone else in the world that’s on the same page about that, it’s the man I’ve been trying desperately to push away.
The day after New Year’s, I walked into the bike garage where he was working. At first he looked at me like he had just seen a ghost. I’m sure he wasn’t expecting me, especially not looking fresh and cheerful. I couldn’t tell you the last time I put on make-up or did my hair. Even showering was a chore. But that day was different. That day, I curled my blonde locks and put on the perfect amount of make-up, squeezed into a pair of maternity jeans and my leather jacket, feeling like myself again for the first time in forever. I headed out to find him, to show him that I was back.
“I want to get married,” I said, point-blank.
The look of confusion on his face stopped me in my tracks.
“To you, Tank,” I said. “I don’t want to raise this baby in a broken home. I don’t want to be the sad crazy mother that can’t provide for her child. And I especially don’t want to give some other woman the chance to steal you away from me while I wallow in self-pity.”
“Trust me, they’ve been beating down the door every day when I come to work. Single dads are a thing, I guess.”
“Oh I’m sure,” I laughed. “Where are you hiding them? I’m sure once they meet your crazy baby momma, they’ll disappear real quick.”
“Get over here,” he said, cupping my face in his hands and kissing me so passionately that I nearly melted into to the floor. I missed that. The way he knows how to make a woman feel sexy no matter what state they’re in. “You’re going to have to wait until we get home to get your ring.”
“I thought maybe since I finally dragged myself out of my hole, we could just like go out or something. Dinner? Movies? I’ll buy.” Normal. That’s what I’m offering him. Months of chaos, months of madness and sadness. I wanted to give Tank, Thurston, the strong dark mysterious man, the golden child, the normal life he deserved.
The next few months were much brighter in terms of allowing ourselves to be happy again. We had a really snowy winter, and I spent a lot of time hiking with Sloan and learning how to sew with Esther. I hope this baby likes rhinestones as much as Evie and I do. The little plastic bin of onesies and hats makes me smile every time I walk past it. I probably should’ve waited until we found out we were having a boy before I went ahead and started that project. That’s ok. We donated the really girly stuff to Tank’s mother’s church group so they could hand it out to mothers in need, and started all over again.
I tried to keep up with my job at the bar, but by the time I was six months pregnant, it became a struggle to bend over and get things out of the cooler. Between my boobs and the watermelon clunking around inside me, no glass was safe from being knocked to the floor if it came into my gravitational pull. Gavin started bringing me home office work that I could do, just so that I could keep feeling productive, and Stacy happily stepped in and took over my manager position so I could have a nice long extended maternity leave.
We’re going to start construction on our house in May so that the ground has plenty of time to thaw and the rainiest days are behind us. It’s not that this trailer hasn’t been perfect for me in the time that I’ve lived here, and it’s definitely good enough for the two of us, but a real house is definitely something that I want for our kid. I want him to have a backyard to play in, and a room of his own where he feels safe.
We already have his name picked out, Ethan David Ellis. Perfectly fresh names that none of us have any affiliations with.
“You sure you don’t want to name him Thurston Junior?” I had asked him when we were going through some books of names.
“I don’t want to be named Thurston Senior,” he laughed. We’ll let this kid figure out who he wants to be for himself. As long as he’s as kind and loving as the people who raise him, I’m sure he’s going to turn out just fine.
Sloan was the one who suggested the double wedding. She and Gavin postponed theirs on account of the incident, and by the time the dust settled, there was a foot of snow on the ground. She didn’t want to have people worry about traveling up and down the mountain in that weather, and the club didn’t think it was appropriate to have a formal event if they couldn’t bring their bikes, so April seemed like the way to go.
I personally wouldn’t have minded slipping off somewhere, just the two of us, but the more I thought about my family, the more I wanted them to be a part of this day. Not just my Misfit family, my brothers and sister that I’ve accumulated over the years, but also Tank’s parents. I know the way that I was brought up, Tank’s mom can only be a positive influence in my life. She definitely raised one hell of a son.
My mom, on the other hand, I don’t know if her shutting me out completely is a blessing or a curse. I tried to tak
e Tank to her house after he proposed to me. I thought it would be important to tell her that she was going to be a grandmother, but she was too busy to even let us inside. I’ll keep trying. It’s the right thing to do, and if I’ve learned anything the last few months, it’s that I need to do the right thing, even if the outcome is less than desirable. For my mental health. For my karma. For Ethan. I want him to see his mother as a woman who isn’t ashamed of where she came from, and isn’t too proud to admit her mistakes.
“Sloan, you look so stunning,” I say, tears pooling up in my eyes as I look at my best friend, her long brown hair tucked halfway up, her eyes dusted with a sparkling rose shadow and her lips ruby red. The girl styling her hair takes the cape off that she was using to keep her white dress covered and as she stands up and smooths it out, she looks like a princess.
“Your mascara and eyeliner are waterproof, but I can’t make any promises about the rest of this stuff on your face,” the girl fixing my make-up says.
“I think I’m entitled to be a hot mess. Maybe if my make-up is jacked up, it’ll detract from the baby that just might pick today to claw its way out of my body.”
“You better not, Ethan,” Sloan says, rubbing my stomach. “Stay in there and cook a few more weeks.”
“Well look at this fancy lady,” I say, whistling as Evie makes her way down the steps. She looks like a damn disco ball, her long dress made of sparkling silver sequins, and she’s wearing a tiara covered in fake diamonds. She’s got on a pair of muddy black cowboy boots. She’s definitely her father’s daughter.
“Can you tell I let her pick out her own flower girl dress?”
“I wish they made that in my size,” I laugh. I’m just kidding. I know I’m kind of a hot mess bride with my baby bump and hormonal hair and likely smeared make-up. I know all eyes are going to be on me, sequins or not, but there’s only two eyeballs that really matter today.