1. Novel

  2. Severed Heart (Ravenhood Legacy Book 2)

  3. Severed Heart: Epilogue
Severed Heart (Ravenhood Legacy Book 2)

Severed Heart: Epilogue

BLINK.
Russell pulls up in the King’s tow truck as my mangled hood comes into view. I clamp my hand over my mouth to conceal my lady-like gasp as fury lights in my veins. Zach eyes me from behind the windshield, where he sits in the passenger seat of the tow truck as Russell hops out and stalks toward me.
“Shit, brother,” Russell utters, reading my expression.
“You might want to take a breath before you . . . do the daddy thing.”
“I’m good,” I lie, both shaken and furious. “He’s okay?”
“Yeah, he’s fine,” Russell assures, “he’s scared shitless but hiding it well.”
The passenger door closes and Zach comes into view behind Russell’s shoulder before he attempts to speed past the two of us to get to the house.
“Stop your feet, now,” I snap. Zach barely acknowledges my order but obeys, stopping feet ahead of us.
“Annnnd, that’s my cue to leave,” Russell chuckles.
“Thanks for the heads-up, and for bringing him home,” I say.
“No problem, but damn does he have a set of balls on him,” Russell muses.
“Which haven’t yet fucking dropped,” I counter, knowing Zach can hear us.
“I’ll drop it off in the barn. Text you later, man,” Russell says before getting back into the tow truck. The sight of my mangled hood as he drives away brings actual stinging fucking tears to my eyes before I shift my gaze to scan Zach.
“Okay. You meant to hurt me, and I’m hurt, so mission accomplished, but you could have fucking killed yourself, kid. You can barely reach the fucking pedals, which is no doubt why you wrecked. What in the hell were you thinking?”
He stands mute, which is infuriating. The only thing I’m thankful for is that there’s no real fear in him. Maybe not enough.
“What is going on with you?” I ask. “I thought we were good.”
“I’ll pay for it,” he offers dryly.
“That’s a given. You’ll be working it off with double your chores and no Ranger for six months.”
His mouth pops open. “You can’t do that.”
“Want to make it a year? You’re delusional. You’re thirteen years old and drove my fucking classic forty minutes across town.”
“I was just riding,” he says in shit excuse. I cross my arms as he shakes his head. “Whatever.”
“Tell me what’s going on,” I say. Tell me why you’re so pissed at me.”
“I’m not.”
“And I’m a ballet dancer,” I utter dryly. “You can go all night bullshitting me, and I can play along, or you can simplify this for us both.”
“You didn’t let me say goodbye,” he snaps. “You didn’t let me say shit!”
I manage to stave off my flinch. “I apologized for that.”
“Fuck your apology,” he snaps. “You don’t get to apologize for things like that.”
“Watch your mouth,” I warn, palming my neck. “You need to back it up and speak to me with respect, right now.”
“Fine, sorry.”
“Sorry what?”
“Oh, fuck this, sorry, sir.” He stalks off. I’m instantly on his heels as he continually spouts off, “You’re not my dad . . . I don’t know why in the hell I’m here.”
“I told you why,” I counter, undeterred, “because I want you here, and I asked you to stay.”
“Because your girlfriend died,” he tosses over his shoulder, the blow landing as intended.
“Please don’t go there, not that low,” I utter hoarsely. At my tone, he stops and turns to me, his eyes watering as mine threaten to follow. “I did what I thought was best, and I’m sorry.”
“You could have let me talk to her on the phone,” he condemns, tears falling. The pain still fresh for us both. Her funeral barely a month ago.
“I’m sorry. I am,” I offer hoarsely, my eyes filling at the utter devastation in his face. “I could have, should have put you on with her, but I was running out of time. I was so fucking sad, Zach, and maybe it was selfish, but she didn’t want you there. She didn’t want you to see her go. But she loved you. I miss her too. Every fucking day. So much.”
“It isn’t your job to protect me. You’re not my father,” he repeats.
“Yeah, you keep saying that.” I swallow.
“Because it’s true.” He kicks at the dirt between us. “You’re not. I’m not your son, Tyler.”
“Do you want to be?” His eyes widen slightly as a pained gasp leaves him. “Because in my heart, that’s who you are to me now. What you’ve become. And what I want you to be.”
His face twists again as he releases a suppressed grunt. Tears shimmer in his eyes as I find the strength to fight for the first time since she passed. For us. For him.
“I love you, and I want you in my life. I want you here. With me.”
He openly cries now as I fist my hands at my sides. It’s then the clear image of the toddler wiggling in his mother’s arms comes to mind. As does the sound of the demand which accompanied the engrained image from a decade ago.
“Hole me.”
The burn in my throat mutes me briefly until the fight for him wins out.
“Zach, I’m losing my shit right now because I really want to pull you to me, to hug you. Just tell me if you—” He launches himself at me, cutting me off, and I capture him in my arms, holding him for long seconds as his body shakes, his grief palpable. I keep him tightly gripped, my whispers fueled by my heart. By the truth.
“You’re saving me,” I tell him honestly. “You may think I did you a favor, but you’re saving me, Zach. And all I want to do now is spend my life being your father. I can’t promise to save you back because that’s a promise no one can make to another, but I promise you everything else a father can offer. I’ll be there for you as long as I have breath in me. You’re golden. You’re everything that’s good about my life now, and you were for her too. And God, how she loved you.”
He buckles as I keep him upright. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. You have to grow up and let go of my hand first, but I’m not letting go. That’s the promise I made her, and it belongs to you now.”
He sobs uncontrollably as I shield him from it all. From the eyes that have shamed him. Playing barrier to the pain that has plagued him, never lessening my grip. “I’m yours if you’ll have me. I’ll show up for you. I promise. I swear it, I swear it. I love you, Zach, and I need you. I want you here. With me.”
His sobs come harder, and he clutches me tighter and breaks against me, with me, my own face soaked when he finally releases me.
“D-do you believe in G-God like she does?”
“I will never lie to you. Not ever, so I can’t bullshit you on something I’ve struggled with for years because of the things I’ve seen. But when I looked at her, at you, I want to believe. I want to because you both deserve a place like that. I want to believe so badly she’s there. So for you, and for her, I’ll try.”
He nods, his chest pumping with his cries. Once he’s spent, I wordlessly follow him to his room and remain at his door until he falls into a fitful sleep. I wake in the morning to see him sleeping on the floor next to me, his hand gripping my sheet at the side of my bed. Bending, I lift him onto the mattress to lay next to me and stare at him until I’m lights out. When we both wake, he turns to me and gives me my answer. And within a blink, I’m a father.
BLINK.
Glaring down at my brother where he lays in the hospital bed, I fight the anger and resentment threatening to destroy what’s left of us. “You take for granted the breath in your body while I watched her struggle for every single one. She wanted those breaths because it meant having another day—with me. You want to line up with the rest of your family, go right on ahead, but I will not fucking be there to witness it if you don’t fight for your own breaths anymore. They deserve better . . . I deserve better. So, if you give a fuck about me at all,” I plead with him for the last fucking time, “wake the fuck up! Wake the fuck up, T.”
BLINK.
Standing in my penguin suit, I wink at Zach, who tugs at the collar of his shirt where he sits in the first row, loosening his tie. Catching his eyes, I jerk my chin as we start our mental conversation exchange.
Not yet, kid.
It’s uncomfortable.
Deal with it.
Shit.
Manners.
Fine!
Love you.
You too.
I can even hear him grumbling it, and can’t help but smile with how far we’ve come. Shifting my focus on my brother, and the love shining in his eyes, I take in the moment, being there with him, for him, as my own ache surfaces in remembrance of the time I took similar vows.
“I, Sean, take you, Tessa, to be my lawfully wedded wife.”
BLINK.
Zach winds up on the mound as I palm Dad’s shoulder, my heart in my throat as we hold our collective breath. A heartbeat later, the ump calls it as we explode out of our seats.
BLINK.
Dad and I stare, standing side by side, dressed in our blues, as the shots are fired. Granddad’s picture standing nearby as the flag is folded.
BLINK.
My phone rings as I stand idly by the gas pump when my name is called. Turning, I see Layla holding her daughter, Lily, prompting her to wave to me just outside the station door. Grinning, I wave back as I answer.
“Hey man, long time.”
“I’ve got it on good authority that you’re being called up, buddy,” Beekman imparts, and I can hear the smile in his voice.
“No shit? Now?”
“Affirmative. I hope you have a realtor in DC.”
“I’m hoping you have one,” I retort absently, as it starts to sink in.
“Matter of fact, I do,” he boasts.
“I prefer to have one you haven’t jilted,” I quip.
“Oh, then you’re on your own.”
“Figures,” I jibe.
“Pack your bags, brother, and your kid, and let him know Uncle Beekman is picking you both up soon, secret agent man.”
BLINK.
Zach tosses his duffle into his truck, his gaze lingering on our DC house for long seconds as I rattle feet away. Glancing over to me, he easily reads my expression before pulling me to him. “Don’t worry, Dad,” his whisper reaches me. “I swear I’ve got this. You made sure of it. Love you.”
Just after he pulls away, I place the knife in his palm speaking around the lump in my throat. “She would have wanted you to have it.” His eyes fix on the knife as he swallows, the sting evident before he nods.
“Thank you.”
“Call me as soon as you can.”
“I’ll call you in ten minutes,” he says before he pulls away.
My phone rings in five.
BLINK.
“Zuzu’s petals, there they are!” Jimmy Stewart rings out on screen as Zach feasts on Mom’s Christmas tree–shaped Rice Krispie treats, his size twelve boots hanging over her ottoman. Scouring the living room, I chuckle as Dad catches flies, mouth gaping in his second nap today. In the corner, I watch as Mom pulls out a familiar box from a large plastic bin. Inside is an ornament that gives me both a nostalgia kick and stokes my constant heartache. At the sight of it, I’m transported back into our little house as silver eyes stare back at me, her lips twisted in a grin.
“It’s my ugly ornament,” I utter to Mom who looks back over to me, concern in her eyes. “I’m okay,” I assure in a rough whisper. “Let me hang it?”
She gives me an easy nod, her eyes misting before she turns to stare at her glittering tree. “I miss her all the time, Son.”
BLINK.
Standing in the doorway of Tobias’s office, he looks over to me, utter devastation on his face. Reason being, Cecelia accepted another man’s ring. “Talk to me,” I prompt, the sweat from hauling ass here cooling on my back.
“No need,” he states.
“You can continue to lie,” I counter, remaining idle, “and maybe I’ll pretend to believe it, or we can talk, really talk this out. Choice is yours.”
We stare off for a few silent seconds before he speaks.
“Tell me why she accepted.” He pours a finger full of gin in his tumbler.
“He wasn’t sure she would say yes, so he did it in a room full of people who knew them both as a couple and as successful business partners. To remind her of what they’ve built together—also what she stands to lose if she didn’t take the ring. It’s a little manipulative, but he worships her.”
“That’s not what I asked,” Tobias snaps.
I sigh, knowing he doesn’t want the truth even as he demands it with the lift of his chin. “Because he’s both good to and for her.”
He rakes his lip, but it doesn’t lessen any of the blow in his expression. Pressing in, for him, for her, I give him more of the brutal truth.
“This is what you decided for her when you sent her back to Georgia. A normal life, non-club related.”
He nods, even as sweat breaks out on his brow.
“You know your choices,” I remind him. “You either go get her and risk losing her to our life, or you let her go”—I cut my hand through the air to stop his bullshit objection—“I mean, really let her go.”
“I have . . .” He spares me a glance as I flat out call bullshit with my eyes alone. “. . . Enough to make her believe I have,” he grits out.
“You still love her, Tobias,” I deliver point-blank.
“I’m with Alicia.”
“No,” I scoff, “you fucking aren’t. Alicia knows that, too. And like Alicia with you, Collin knows Cecelia’s not all in with him. That there’s something or someone from her past holding her back. I’m willing to bet my life that Collin has absolutely no knowledge of you. Even without mention of the club, and that’s because she’s holding out hope just like you are. If you truly are her past, she would have told him about you, and she hasn’t, which makes her all the more alluring to him.”
“You seem certain of all of this,” he says, tossing more gin back.
“I am.” I shrug.
“Simply because of the way he proposed?” he asks.
“There’s a lot to be said about approach, but there’s more, there’s always more, and you know damn well I watch out for her, so don’t play fucking ignorant,” I warn, done with his excuses.
“Subtlety is no longer a trait you possess,” he says, swallowing another healthy sip of gin. A numbing I’m all too familiar with. “She doesn’t love him,” he insists.
“Maybe not in the same way she did you,” I agree. “A way she no doubt now identifies as unhealthy thanks to you, but she does love him.”
I hold his stare, intent on seeing this through. “She loves him enough to marry him, and if you don’t stop it, she will marry him, T.”
“She’s too smart to trap herself in the lie she’s living, and make no mistake, she’s living a lie,” he argues.
“Which makes you birds of a feather,” I drop, a second before he shatters his keyboard with his fist. Blood drips from his hand as all pretense of calm flies out the window.
“The risk is still too great,” he argues weakly.
“Tessa can endure it,” I counter, “and you’ve seen that for yourself. There are marriages that last in this fucking club . . . but I’m not here to talk you into going to her.”
“Then why are you?” he snaps.
“I’m here to tell you she will marry him if you don’t stop it.”
Tobias’s eyes flare as I become the enemy, his temporary scapegoat for the pain lancing through him.
“Since we’re being honest, why don’t you come clean about being happy to deliver this news to me.”
“Fuck you,” I bite out. “Despite your current skewed perception, not everyone is your enemy.”
“No, but you’re no friend of mine since I’ve disappointed you so greatly. Your grudge is still there. Tell me it doesn’t please you to tell me this,” he hisses as I turn to take my leave. “That it doesn’t please you that I live as you do, as a fucking dead man.”
Turning on a dime, I stalk toward him, done with the hand-holding. “You want to go blow for blow? Think it will make you feel better?” I stop short of his desk. “We both know it won’t, but today, I’m fucking up for it, you fucking prick. So, say the word.”
He tilts his head, eyes filling with concern as I jerk my chin.
“Save it. Don’t play big brother right now. You’re not the one who just fucking flew across Charlotte to watch you implode.”
“I’m not,” he denies.
“You are, and every single bit of what you’re feeling right now is on you, and you know it.”
“She’ll die,” he whispers fearfully.
“She might,” I agree, “and that’s the chance we all take when we get inked. You inked her, you dumb bastard. But while we’ve been mopping up our mess, she’s been embracing that ink—earning it. You know as well as I do that we can talk club safety all night, but we both know there’s no fucking guarantee and never will be. We learned that the hard way. But that was years ago, and now you’re standing behind excuses that are becoming less and less relevant while still playing the fucking martyr with your broken heart.” Annoyed, I stare him down as the last of my patience starts to thin. “Look, sulk, cry, whine, and continue to remain in denial, but your lack of future with her is completely your fucking decision and less about her safety at this point.”
“She won’t forgive me.”
“She’s not a young tender anymore, Tobias. She’s a goddamn force to be reckoned with, and my money is that she’ll give you the hell you deserve before you get to glimpse the peace you found with her again. You were willing to risk losing your brothers over her, so what is the risk now?”
“Her fucking life!”
“That’s your PTSD talking,” I counter.
“Fuck you.”
“You were hurt, bad, and almost died, and it scared you and only reinforced your decision to keep her away, but you’re still breathing, and so is she. The coast is as clear as it’s going to get, and you know all too fucking well she’s starting to stack enemies of her own. Now more than ever, she needs your protection.”
“She has it.”
“No, she has mine,” I draw out, “which is better than yours, but it’s not mine she wants.” Done with the conversation, I glance back at the door. “Look, go to her, or don’t, but this is it. I’ve watched you get up from concrete you shouldn’t have been able to grow roots from, but you did.”
“I can’t watch her die,” he finally admits.
“You’re dying watching her fucking live without you, brother. The thing is . . . I know you’ll eventually go to her, whether it’s today or a dozen years from now. But what my gut tells me now is that there’s a chance she’ll still be there for you, though I have and have had a feeling that the clock is ticking out. This engagement only proves as much. A woman like Cecelia—with a heart like hers—you and I both know she won’t let it wither. One day, she will succeed in finding someone to help her put it to use, even if it isn’t Collin. She’s not going to waste much more of it on you. Do what you will, but you know I’m right.”
Stalking over to the door, knowing I’ve done and said all I can for my brother, I slam the door behind me.
* * *
US PRESIDENT: PRESTON J MONROE | 2021 -2029

FALL 2021noveldrama

BLINK.
Chest heaving due to exertion, I toss away the last of the brush before getting into the cab of the backhoe. With no choice but to look at the house standing twenty feet in front of me, I finally face it head-on. An immediate vision of Delphine on the porch, watering can in hand, flits to mind. The hem of her sundress catching on the breeze, blowing around her, along with wisps of her long, black hair as she glances my way, her lips curving up due to my arrival. Just after, the feel of our connection when our eyes met and held through my windshield.
The late summer sun beams down, and I clear the sweat from my brow with the exposed part of my wrist beneath my work gloves as I swallow down that vision. In vain, because a second later, it’s promptly replaced by another. Zach manning the grill as Delphine chatted to him from where she sat at the porch swing while I chopped wood. I can still see them so clearly—comfortable, smiling, content. That image brings the ache back tenfold, the loss of it crippling.
The facts are, once upon a short time ago, and only briefly, I had a family. A family I didn’t try or petition for but came together naturally—a gift. A gift that was promptly snatched right back like a favorite toy in cruel taunt.
“Christ,” I rasp out as I put the backhoe into gear and lower the bucket, fury driving me on as I head in the direction of the small house she made a home, intent on erasing it.
It’s the speeding car on the road next to me blurring into my periphery that has me halting the demolition and kicking back in the bucket seat to weigh going through with it.
Seconds later, Tobias pulls up right next to me, our eyes meeting from where I sit a few feet above in the tractor to his driver’s seat. I know the second he glances toward the house and back at me that he’s reading my intent, and I mutter a curse before exiting.
Sighing as he exits his newest Jag, I lean against the tractor as he approaches, noticing that the usual confidence in his gait is completely absent, and I know why. Right now, we’re in the same type of hell.
Two months after Tobias summoned Cecelia with an email to buy Horner Tech, Cecelia came, fought the good fight, and went. To her utter detriment, Tobias did everything he could to see her out the door. Despite my warnings and her attempts to salvage them, his fear won out. It’s apparent it’s winning now as he approaches me, eyeing me intently.
“Don’t judge my actions,” I snap.
“Like I have any right,” he scoffs, relenting easily—too easily, and I hate it, missing my brother as I have since the night he was forever altered. I want this fight. I’ve wanted it for years, but as it stands now, we both look and feel defeated. “But know you’ll only destroy an empty home, not the memories.”
I abandoned any life in Triple Falls years ago, including this place, but it’s always nagged at me that this house remains here, unoccupied.
“If it’s a mistake, I’ll learn from it after. Not in the mood to be preached to,” I relay. “Not today.”
“Understood,” he answers, his accent a little thicker due to the emotion emanating from him, which he’s doing nothing to hide. It dawns on me then.
“You’re finally going to her,” I state with an ironic shake of my head. It’s then I notice his dress, nothing but jeans and a T-shirt.
“I’m terrified she’ll take me back, but more terrified she won’t.”
“I hope she gives you hell,” I relay.
His eyes narrow on me. “You want me to suffer.”
“Some, but don’t forget that I washed my hands of this months ago.”
He scans the expansive farm, the hills and valleys for long seconds before he looks back to me, eyes misting. “Have you washed your hands of me, Tyler? Do you find me redeemable?”
“That’s up to you,” I dismiss.
“I miss the beginning,” he whispers, gaze and voice distant. “I would have done so many things differently.”
“I think we all would,” I relay truthfully.
“If I could go back, I would, Tyler, I would.” He looks over to me. “And not just for myself,” he relays hoarsely, with no sort of manipulative preempt in the delivery. He’s living in his mistakes, in his personal prison, and this is his first step in trying to break free. He’s finally fucking ready. That truth angers me more than it relieves me. Sensing my burgeoning disposition, he studies me carefully.
Stepping up to me, he lets me see his pain, his regret. “Answer me, brother, please. Are we salvageable? But before you do, I came to tell you that I understand you more than I ever have. I understand”—he nods toward the house—“this. The why of it all in a way I never have before. That’s not a reason for you to forgive me, but I want you to know that much.”
“So, what you’re really asking is that because I needed you, and you weren’t there, can I be the same prick to you?”
“I guess so,” he says, a tear shaking free and gliding down his cheek. “And if you can be, I would deserve it.” He shakes his head. “You know I love Cecelia, but you don’t know why. We never shared those details, and I never asked what you had with Delphine, nor do I know of any memories you harbor. I never let you share your happiness with me or fucking asked. I never knew what this”—he gestures toward the house—“was like for you.”
“Heaven,” I manage around the burn in my throat. “Only miles away, it was, felt, seemed untouchable by the club, by everyone. Even by our war. During my time with her, I knew real peace.” I lick my lips and glance away. “I knew what it was to have a family . . . until it was ripped away.”
Tobias stares at the front porch for long seconds. “You gave her that same happiness, family. Something she lacked in her own life, but you know that.”
I palm my neck and nod.
“Thank you for that, Tyler. Thank you for caring for her, for loving her. For not giving up on her, for being more her family than we were.”
“Well,” I say, tightening my gloves on my hands, “thanks for stopping by on the apology tour, but—”
“Goddamnit,” he steps up to me, and I react, landing a solid blow on his chin, with nothing behind it. His head snaps right, but it doesn’t stop him as he crowds me, palming my shoulder, his eyes pleading. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Hear me, see me, and know I’m sincere. I haven’t acted like a brother to you in so long, and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” He pulls me to him and keeps me there, his words coming out rapid but unrehearsed. “As selfish as I’ve been, I need you just as much. Have needed you, and now I need the one I trust the most on this earth to tell me that a life other than what we’re living is possible because I can’t take this reality any longer.”
“For you,” I choke out, palming his back, “for you, you stupid son of a bitch, but not for me, and it’s all up to you.”
We break apart, and I run my glove along my jaw to wipe at the weakness lining it. I swallow again, the heaviness in the air between us lifting substantially as my anger takes a back seat. Glancing up and over, I gaze at my brother, who’s looking back at me with fresh eyes—new perspective. Who sees the man and not the boy.
“The life you get to live from here on out is entirely what you make of it once you reach her, T. There’s no quick fix. You decide. She decides, and then you decide the rest together. That’s all there is.”
He nods. “And for you?”
“I’m all booked up,” I sniff, unable to stand the sight of the house any longer. “But when it’s over, this is my future.” I gesture. “You have St. Jean de Luz, and I have this little piece of heaven to make whatever life I want after. Until then, I’m letting the earth swallow it up.”
He searches me for long minutes and sees my resolve. “When do you return to DC?”
“Tomorrow,” I answer.
He fingers the back pockets of his jeans. “Can I catch a ride with you?”
I draw my brows.
“I want to go to her with nothing but the clothes on my back. She deserves that.”
It’s admirable, considering the man’s fetishes for the finer things and the knowledge that he’s going to have to go without his little indulgences.
“Sure you can do without your morning espresso?” I tease.
“Fuck no, but for her,” he says, no humor in his voice, “I’ll do anything.”
“Know that I’ll so be the fly on the wall for this shit show, and I’ll be close if you need me,” I assure him. “Either of you.”
“I know that. I just don’t want you to resent me for it any longer,” he says.
“Something tells me I won’t,” I admit. “That’s if you do the work and finally get to the place of deserving her again.”
“I can’t live without her,” he whispers, his voice distant but filled with surety, “and I won’t.”
“That’s apparent.”
“No, Tyler.” His eyes lock with mine, and I take a step back at what I see. I’d read it all wrong. “I won’t live without her. If my decisions or this club cost her life . . .” He trails off, but his implication is clear, and he’s completely of sound mind.
“You’re serious?” I ask, though I know better.
“Before I take a step near her, I need your word that will remain the case.”
“Jesus Christ, T—”
“I don’t breathe a day without her, Tyler, fucking promise me. Promise me. I don’t last a minute past her last breath if it’s possible.”
Swallowing, I see his ask and his resolution. It’s one thing about Tobias that can’t ever be bent or swayed or bartered. Well, unless your name is Cecelia Horner. She’s his only weakness, but his weakness is both damning and caustic, hence this request. But this is the nature of Tobias and his absolutes—of how his heart works, of his devotion.
I know this because I’m very much the same man in that respect.
I don’t bother to try and talk him out of it, and he’s all too aware of my capabilities.
“Can you live with it?” he asks.
The question is also pointless. He knows I can. That I’ve got capabilities others don’t. That compartmentalization is my biggest strength. That I grieve Delphine by choice. He’s well aware I can turn my emotions on and off like a switch under any circumstance and reads that truth in my return gaze.
“Promise me, Tyler. Promise me,” he prods, unrelenting in his quest. Knowing he won’t survive her loss, I bat away all emotion and flip that switch before reasoning through my decision for long minutes before answering.
“You have my word, brother.”
He nods, perfectly content with his decision, and adds another life-altering secret to my bill before turning back to me. “So, do you have another set of gloves?”
“I’m good, just let me . . .” I trail off as Tobias nods and steps back.
Turning back to the house, I stare at the brick and mortar ahead of me that at one time was more than a house, but a home. Engine idling, bucket lowered, I allow myself a few more seconds to back out of the emotional decision to destroy the only true home I’ve ever known.
I’m already years into the road ahead of me, the road that begins after her. Reliving the memories and peace of the time we spent here, I allow the bittersweet emotions to swarm me.
This part of my life is over, and for the next seven years, I have no room for emotional attachment. The inkling to erase what could have been fills me with surety as I aim the bucket at the front door.
It’s over. Death took away all illusions of moving forward in the life we made.
Now, I’m an image of who others expect me to be, a falsity, an illusion, a liar, manipulator, and the keeper of all secrets. A protector and her soldier, nothing more.
The reason I breathe now is to make sure those I’m loyal to don’t have to desperately search for the rise and fall of the chest of those they love. From that, I can and will protect them the way I wasn’t.
Because it was heaven to love her, too, though I was in a sacrificial type of state. In order to have it, I had to give my heart permission to love her, though her loss altered my soul.
So I’ll protect them, so these questions don’t fucking haunt them. I’ll keep their secrets and watch them fuck up and lose their chances to stupidity. I’ll watch them hurt each other and take each other for granted. Knowing the cost, I won’t say a fucking word, but fight for their individual breaths in between so they don’t ever fucking realize that their naïveté could cost them their sanity.
For a time, I swore she was my one weakness, but the truth is, now I draw breath for them. They are my weakness and reason. For them, I’ll breathe and will my heart to keep beating.
Only for them.
Because if I fail them, I’ll cease to have a reason to anymore.
Bucket lowered, I’m feet from the house when my son steps out of the front door, challenge in his eyes. Panic and shock seizing me, I all but stand on the brakes and kill the engine, jumping out as Zach squares off with me.
“What the fuck are you doing, Dad?”
Guilt washes over me as he steps forward demanding an answer.
“Did you maybe think for one fucking second that by totaling this place, you’d be wiping the memories of the only mother I’ve ever had away from me!”
Zach’s fury radiates from him as I stand in shock at his reaction. “You’re selfish in your pain with her. You’ve tried, but you’re still fucking selfish!”
“I’m sorry,” I offer pathetically as guilt and shame wash over me. “I thought you’d build a new—”
“I don’t want to erase my past. I’m embracing it. Even the parts I don’t want to remember. It’s part of being a well-rounded human. You taught me that, and what are you doing? . . . She’s gone, and yeah, we need to move on with living, but what is this? You want to forget her now, too?”
I shake my head. “I can’t.”
“Dad,” he sighs, “I’ve sat back and watched you suffer year after year, but enough is enough. You know good and fucking well she didn’t want this! She told you specifically not to take mourning her this far, and here you are well over half a decade later, and you’re not even trying!”
“I can’t!” I admit, the pain lancing through me at that truth. “I can’t.”
“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard those words come out of your mouth,” he says. “Words you refused to let me use.”
Zach steps up to me, and even as he scorns me, I can’t help the pride I feel, even as he hands my ass to me. Which inside, I know, is deserved. She didn’t want this—me to mourn her this far—but my heart still isn’t beating the same. My breaths are still shallow, and I miss her with every single one.
“Dad, I want to make this my home one day. When I find the girl for me, I want to bring her here, to the place where I witnessed firsthand what kind of love I wanted. It’s one of my dreams. So please, don’t tear it down.”
I nod, utterly speechless at his display. He rarely gets so emotional anymore, and I know it’s not because he doesn’t have a heart. It’s because he takes good care of it. In doing so, he’s now taking care of mine.
“Promise me,” he prompts, his eyes drilling mine.
“I promise, Son. Fuck, I’m sorry. It’s just—” I crack a little as I admit the truth. “I can’t reason my way out of this fucking grief. I can’t. I just need—”
“Faith, Dad. That’s all she asked of you. You need faith. Real faith. She asked you to believe her and you need to start. I heard her give you that order more than once before she died. I heard it. An order you’re not following. So you need to know you’re not going to find the peace you want until you do.”
“I’ll try, Son. I’ll try.”
“Okay,” he releases on a long exhale before glancing back at the house. “Let’s—” He nods toward the door. “Let’s spend the night with her, here, before you go back?”
I give him a slow nod. “Yeah, she would love that.”
Eyes still full of concern, his expression relaxes slightly as he glances over a Tobias. “Hey Uncle T, you staying?”
T nods. “Hey, and yes, if it’s okay with you.”
“Of course . . . no, Uncle T, put your fucking wallet away.” Zach rolls his eyes before turning to me. “I’ll go grab something to grill.” He eyes the newly vacant porch. “And I guess get a new fucking grill,” he utters dryly, shaking his head before stalking to my truck. Easily finding the keys where I pinned them above the tire, he turns it over before driving away. Tobias and I stand mute for a few minutes as Zach speeds down the gravel drive. I remain zeroed on the truck until it’s out of sight, utterly in awe of the son I raised when Tobias speaks up behind me.
“It’s so wild watching you be a father, but I always saw it in you. Since the day we met and you mowed my lawn.”
“Yeah.” I grin and turn to him. “You ever think about it?”
“I was blessed to be brother and father.”
“You aren’t going to try with Cecelia?”
He gives me an imperceptible expression. “That’s a complicated question considering she wrote me off. One step at a time, brother.”
“This is going to be epic,” I muse. “Just know Russell and I will be popping popcorn every night to tune in for this shit show.”
“Fuck you,” he utters, even as a grin plays on his lips.
* * *
Later that night we honor Delphine in a way that would actually please her. Laughing hysterically about her antics and salty cooking. Pausing heavily when it starts to sting. After sipping my beers a little longer and when the pain becomes too much, I cut myself off before any buzz can set in. Determined to stay sharp when I start on Preston’s security detail tomorrow. As I remind them of that, we all part ways for lights-out. But when the two of them head for the bedrooms, I decide to take a walk, which turns into a moonlit trek toward the pasture of wildflowers.
“Breathe, Soldier,” her whisper reaches me as the trees sway with the crisp arrival of fall. Visions of her swarm me just after, leaving me aching as her whispers continually reach me.
“Je t’aime, my miracle, soldier of my heart,” she whispers.
Turning the corner, I’m stopped by the sight that greets me. The wildflowers I planted so long ago eat up the entire hillside having grown wildly in the years since our departure. Nature doing its thing, the overabundance renders me speechless.
In a blink I’m surrounded by them, by her, as faint music fills my senses, carrying over the breeze. Getting lost in time, I become absorbed in the night I married the love of my life. In remembrance of the feel of her. Of her silken hair and skin against my palms as we danced on our wedding night. Her lilted whispers engulfing me as I turn slowly to inhale the sight before me. Raw and aching, the pain remains unrelenting, as the dark beckons me, forever promising a way out. But this pain, this pain could never be fully blinked away. Just as I think it, the breeze flutters over the tips of the wildflowers as her whisper reaches me.
“Close your eyes, Tyler.”
“They’re closed,” I whisper back.
“See your way out, Soldier, do you see it?”
“I see it, baby,” I croak, cracking wide as the blades of the Blackhawk sound in the distance, the thwomp thwomp thwomp announcing its rapid approach.
“Have faith, Soldier. Have faith.”
“I’ll have faith, baby . . . I love you.”
“My one true love,” she whispers.
“I miss you so much.” I slap my fingers against my salted cheeks.
The helicopter touches down yards away as Tobias approaches the field, and I hold the moment for as long as I can, feeling her everywhere for those brief seconds.
“Open your eyes, Soldier of my heart. Go.”
A peace washes over me as I inhale her one last time and exhale her slowly. Not completely, but enough to take another full breath since the last time she took one of her own.
“Go, Soldier,” she orders through time and space as I approach the bird and Zach appears, waving us off from the side of the house. Her voice echoes back to me one last time as my severed heart beats soundly for the first time in years. Even if it remains in pieces.
“Win again, Soldier. Win again.”
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