by Xyla Turner
“Ms. Jacobs,” he called to me.
This wasn’t his customary greeting, but the inflection in his voice made it seem as though he had a question.
“Yes,” I answered and remained at the mouth of the living room, which connected to the kitchen area.
“Can you cut a slice of your sweet potato pie and join me over here, please?” he asked.
His tone was not terse, and it even seemed a bit sad, but I didn’t like the idea of sitting near him in any way. I mean, he’d never done anything inappropriate to me before, but Mama always told me about what is and what can be interpreted. I took heed to that, so I sliced him a piece of the pie, gave it to him, and remained standing away from him.
When he saw that I did not obey him, he turned to stare at me with dead eyes. If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought the man was defeated. He looked like someone had beat the shit out of him. Dark circles were under his eyes, and there was no life or even spark in those light gray irises of his.
Damn.
“Are you all right, sir?” I asked.
“It’s Logan,” he corrected. “I’m not sir, Mr. Vega, or any of that shit. Call me Logan, Faith.”
I wasn’t in agreement with that, but I did not plan on arguing with the man.
“Have a seat,” he commanded. “We need to talk.”
“About?” I asked but still didn’t move from my spot.
“Sit,” he snapped.
This was my cue to go. He and I already started off on the wrong foot, and it looked like he was trying to go zero for two.
“Please,” he insisted. “It’s important.”
Reluctantly, I pulled up a seat on the other side of the fire with the recliner and crossed my legs.
His eyes were on the faux fire again, and he tossed the drinks back.
“My wife,” he started. “She’s dying.”
Holy shit.
“W-w-what?” I stammered as my breath seized with the news of what he was saying.
Her frail body came into my mind, and all the pieces started to click as to what I’d seen the past few months. Her vigor was gone, and her body was slowly deteriorating away. This was a fast progression, and she was so young. A tear came to my eye, and before I knew it, multiple ones began to roll down my cheek.
“I’m s-sorry,” I stammered out.
His dead eyes looked at me, and for once, I saw something else. It wasn’t there for long, but it was something else besides contempt—almost an honest sense of respect or camaraderie.
“She’s deteriorating fast because she’s not taking the medicine. The hard-headed woman refuses, and Casey . . .” His voice broke, causing him to swallow. His protruded Adam’s apple bobbed as he regained composure so he could continue. “Casey doesn’t know, and we don’t know how to tell him. Do you have any suggestions? I can’t think straight.”
My eyes were still wet, and watching his display of emotion didn’t help me one bit. Seeing a man cry or get emotional was a number-one trigger for me to do the same. Mr. Vega was always so tall, strong, and put together. I mean he’s an asshole, but tonight, he was a broken man, and even he deserved compassion.
“Uh . . .” I swallowed hard, so my voice could be steady. “Disney movies. Uh, the mother usually dies in a Disney movie or is not present, so we can play one, maybe Bambi or Finding Nemo. Something where the Mama passes away but her spirit lives on, and when he needs her strength, she will be there with him. That would be my suggestion. Casey is a smart boy, and it will hurt him still, but he’ll be able to understand it like that.”
As I was speaking, his head was nodding as if in agreement.
“Yeah.” He shook his head rapidly. “Yeah, that sounds great. You are good.”
I offered a half-smile because my being good would not change the fate of his wife. That was the worst news I heard in a long time. She was a great woman, and this would be devastating for Casey and Logan.
“Uh, Casey has a birthday coming up,” Mr. Vega began.
“Yes, it’s on the thirteenth,” I replied, causing him to look at me again with a respectful nod.
“Yes,” he confirmed. “I want him to have a great time with his mother, and I wanted to know if you can plan it. I’ll add extra to your—”
“Of course, Mr. Vega,” I interrupted him. “It would be my pleasure.”
“Thank you, Faith.” He gave me an attempt of a smile. “No matter the cost, please speak directly to me about the party and not my wife. I want it to be a surprise. Uh . . . it might . . .”
He didn’t finish, but I knew what he was going to say. More tears came to my eyes, and I filled the silence by saying again.
“I’m so sorry,” I hiccupped. “She’s a beautiful woman, both inside and out.”
“Yes.” He nodded again, and this time, a tear escaped his ducts. “She is. Always will be.”
For fear of breaking down any more than I already was, I stood to my feet and asked, “Is there anything else you need me to do, Mr. Vega?”
“It’s Logan, and no, Faith.” He looked up at me. “You’ve done enough. She doesn’t know that I told you, but I figured you would be curious, so . . .” he cleared his throat. “If I haven’t said it before, I’m glad you’re here. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Logan.” I nodded and made a beeline for the front door.
I barely made it to the front of the house before I started bawling, with shoulders jerking and sobs escaping me, about the news I just heard. People die, I know, but why do the good people die? She had a five-year-old son and a husband who cared deeply for her. Why did she have to die? I was so upset, and the heaviness in my chest would not lift.
That night, I got no sleep. I stayed up thinking of the grandest party to have for Casey and started creating invitations and the guest list—people at school, his whole class, daycare, church, community center, neighbors, and since there were no relatives, even people I knew. I’m sure it would be okay, but since the Vega tribe was just the three of them, I wanted her to remember her son’s sixth birthday party. I wanted him to remember it too.
Whew! I’m telling you…Mr. Vega gets good! To keep reading this one, click here.
Leaving Fletch
Cheyenne
“Girl, if it would have been me, I would have tried to kill his ass.”
“Girl, not me. That couldn’t been me. She stupid for staying.”
“Shiiiitttt,” *clapping hands*, “fuck that. I’d take him for all he had.”
“Why are my women so dumb?”
“Ain’t that the second time he cheated?”
“Made a whole fucking fool out of her.”
“She not even on social media no more.”
“She don’t want that heat.”
“I wish my man would. I’m ‘bout to put his stupid ass on the couch for her. Shit.”
“This is just sad.”
“Sis, it’s not sad. It’s pathetic.”
The comments, blogs, gossip sites and every news outlet said the same thing. He’d cheated yet again and there I sat at the edge of my pool thousands of miles away, needing to prepare for the part of my life. He cheated and my heart was racing a hundred miles per hour. He cheated and I had a babysitter who was watching me like a hawk. He was sticking his dick into everything walking and I was the one having heart palpitations. My hand was no longer steady. My breathing seemed to be trapped in my throat. I literally felt the rips and tears of my heart and the accompanying pain that did not rest on my weary soul. And weary was I. Tired. Just sick and tired of being sick and tired. Why did I have to go through this shit? I was no angel. Granted. I had my shit. Maybe diva-ish, but I was not a cheater. I would never and I had many opportunities to dip. I also had reasons, but that wasn’t me.
Now I found myself with my feet hanging in the warm pool as I stared at the bottle of sleeping pills. Suicide was not something that I had ever contemplated before, but I could understand why people did it. It was moments like these wh
en it seemed that the whole world was against me. It was my public embarrassment and it seemed like everyone, including my soon-to-be ex-husband, had conspired against me and forced me to fucking understand why people make a decision to leave this place and never come back.
It's a cruel goddamn world.
With that final thought, I threw the bottle in the pool and let it do whatever the fuck it wanted to do. I’d had a purpose before him and would continue to after him, but first I needed to finish this film and go to some small town where no one knew me and no one cared.
Jumping in the pool, leaving my empty glass of wine and my tablet at the top, I sank to the bottom and opened my eyes to view under the water. It was peaceful there. No noise, no drama, and no one else’s opinion was down here. Just the hum of the motors. Here I could relax with no interruptions, no one watching me and get back to the real Cheyenne Jennings. The girl who wanted to be famous, who wanted to change the world with her work, and the one who married the wrong man.
This man was the epitome…
A light flashed before my eyes, then the serene water was disrupted by a black suit and white shirt. My body was quickly jerked to the top as I gasped for air.
“Wha—what…” I tried to yell.
“Cheyenne, what are you doing?” my babysitter asked as he caught his breath while climbing to the top after pushing me onto the solid ground of the pool walkway. “It’s not worth it.”
“What?” I was still coughing and attempting to catch my breath.
“Were you trying to kill yourself?” he asked with wide eyes, red from the chlorine.
The man was actually a hired bodyguard, but he was just one of three. Now that I’d won the Emmy, my manager thought it would be best for me to have extra protection. Of course, this was after Salvo cheated on me the first time. The news broke that morning which was of him being caught in the middle of an MFM situation. Half of me expected an MMF situation, though it was only a change of letters and a change of positions.
“No, I was not trying to kill myself,” I snapped as I stood up. “I was going for a swim.”
They came barging into the yard, my other two bodyguards, with alert eyes and dominant hands on their loaded guns.
“What’s going on?” Frank asked.
He was my first bodyguard. Used to be in the Marines, then a police officer, and then he joined the elite squad of protecting celebrities. He was older, wiser and more skilled than the others.
“Nothing,” I snapped and grabbed a towel. “The newbie here is overreacting.”
Then I left them to figure out everything because I was done with their shit too. At the end of the day, I just wanted to be left alone to wallow in my hurt feelings and embarrassment.
Once I hit my too big for any-fucking-body room, I stripped, jumped in the scalding shower and let the tears that had been bottled up release. Finally.
The tears that I had to keep in when my friend and lover publicly betrayed me again. The baby that I thought would save our marriage had miscarried only days ago. This was supposed to be the time of my life, and it was instead hell. I let all of those tears flow as I prayed that it would cleanse my soul. It had been tarnished and I was a broken woman, one who had once thought the world was at her feet. In actuality, the world was my cruel master who thought that ridicule, bullying and its own fucking opinions mattered in my day-to-day. It shouldn’t, but It did, and that was the part that bothered me. Why did I give a fuck what anyone thought about me?
My mom used to always say that you can do one of two things with what you are given in this life. You can have it be the thing to hold you back or it can be the catalyst that propels you forward.
Tonight, though, I just wanted to cry. Tomorrow I’d push through and show the world why I won that Emmy. Tomorrow I’d show them all that they could kiss my ass. Tomorrow I even hoped to show myself that I was worth more than I was being treated. More than I allowed.
Tomorrow I’d do that.
But tonight I would cry.
To read Leaving Fletch, click here.
About the Author
Xyla Turner is a USA Today Bestselling & award-winning, bestselling romance author. She was born and raised in Brooklyn, New York, an avid reader of romance novels and a sucker for sassy women and dominant males. She is a high school educator and an awesome Auntie. Outside of reading, Xyla likes to spend time with her family and friends and travel. She writes different genres, but her favorite is romance.
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Also by Xyla Turner
Mr. West
Across the Aisle Series:
Book 1: Trent
Book 2: Duncan
Book 3: Duncan’s Pride
Book 4: James
Stetson Series:
By Chance, No Choice: Stetson Series
Meet Me Halfway: Stetson Series
Love At All Costs: Stetson Series
Tony & Ida: Stetson Series
Leaving Fletch
Crayson
Mr. Vega
Me Too Movement:
Book 1: Carter
Book 2: Declan
Legion of Guardians Motorcycle Club Series:
Just Ride: Legion of Guardians MC (1 - eBook & Audio)
Let’s Ride: Legion of Guardians MC (2)
Just Right: Legion of Guardians MC (3)
Just Dream: Legion of Guardians MC (4)
Dream Ride: Legion of Guardians MC (5)
Lady Guardians Serial
Justice: National Chapter - Book 1
Cut: National Chapter - Book 2
Goldie: National Chapter - Book 3
Double XX Series:
The Chase: Part I & II
Line of Duty Series:
10:80: Line of Duty Series
10-99: Line of Duty Series
10-24: Line of Duty Series
Far Rockaway University Series:
Love Under Attack: FRU Series
The F Student
Bookstore Chronicles Series:
No Returns: Part I & II
Bookstore Chronicles III
Non-Series Book:
BOMBSHELL
Across the Tracks
Power of the Pen
Extraction
Cole [eBook & Audio]
Take A Knee
Warren
Always Right
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