Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.
Beta'd by HollettLA
I spend way too much time addressing the haters. I'm done with it. You rock on, and so will I . . . I'll continue to post my story the way I want to. Thank you! It's comical - someone throws a temper tantrum and what? I'm going to change plot points to suit someone who insults me? LOL. Get outta hea with that mess!
THAT was not aimed toward those who shared their views and/or disagreed. I do not find those reviews offensive AT ALL. I have people insulting MY character now, bullying, people who don't know me.
Since FFn no longer allows us authors to disable anon reviews, I've started to blindly delete them. People hide behind anonymity to leave me insults because they're cowards. They're getting deleted. I apologize to those of you who don't log-in but wish to leave me encouraging words and/or feedback. I'm sorry for that.
Lastly, I wanted to say a HUGE thank you to everyone who's still with me, who've been with me since the beginning. I can't thank you all enough. I don't know if I thank you guys enough. LOL. I wish I could reach through and give you all a hug.
THANK YOU!
Also, you're getting this early because . . . the news about this storm is scaring me. LOL.
Oh, and I'm not sure what kind of warning I should give for this chapter.
Enjoy!
Riders on the Storm
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Blazing Guns
Edward POV
No matter what I said, Bella wouldn't leave the hospital. She looked like shit, recently catching a cold. Not eating or sleeping was wearing on her as well. My wife wouldn't listen to me, and I needed her to hit the bricks—leave the fucking hospital.
After having a lengthy chat with Damion's doctor, I was told my son would be waking up—and staying awake—soon. He's not in a coma, nor is he sedated. Dame was sitting up in bed for two hours earlier.
The alcohol is out of his system. The way his doctor explained it to me, they're battling electrolytes and monitoring his breathing—just in case, and both are under control, balanced and even.
He'll be getting discharged in the morning—from the medical doc. But before he leaves, he'll be going for a psych evaluation . . . as per Bella's request, thinking he tried to off himself.
I didn't want that, and I knew my son wasn't trying to commit suicide.
He drank too much—did some dumb shit.
By now, my son knows he's in the hospital, which is . . . it might be like a vacation. He knows he fucked up, and as soon as he's better . . . he'll have to deal with all his misdeeds.
Either way, there wasn't going to be a psych evaluation or a seventy-two-hour hold.
Fuck that.
And I was going to sign him out against medical advice tonight, before nurses or other personnel inquired about anything—before Bella can intervene.
He's not a fall-down drunk. He'd just been binge drinking for the past three days, that I knew.
Amelia stopped by, too—a crying, pitiful mess. She came with her father, and they spent most of yesterday by his bedside, which was bullshit. Amelia laid it on thick with the tears—a little too thick, since she knew he'd be okay—and she had the sunglasses, hair looking perfect, like some movie star.
Bella told me Amelia might be pregnant, and maybe that was my problem. Earlier in the week—which feels like years ago—when Damion asked for her hand in marriage, I inquired about the baby issue, like when they'd be having a few. My son told me children did not interest him.
Amelia was on the pill.
Sure, people get caught out there all the time. But was the bun in homegirl's oven some type of insurance policy for Luke?
I can't help it. It's the way my brain works . . . I overthink and question everyone's actions unless I know they're genuine—trust them to some degree.
Carlisle once said, that if being a wise guy didn't work out, I should have been a detective.
So, on top of everything else—everything else—Shorty's most likely knocked up.
It seemed like we couldn't catch a break—not where this kid Damion was concerned.
Since Thursday, we've just been dealing . . . There wasn't much we could do, and Bella got sick.
We just chilled out.
That next morning—Friday morning, we woke up to Kylie in our bed. Thankfully, we had the comforter over us. The night before . . . well, we'd gone to bed naked. Anyway, Kylie was excited to tell us of her and Gio's plans to go to school here in New York.
I . . . I was so happy.
Amongst the garbage and turmoil, our baby wasn't leaving. She was one less thing I'd have to worry about. Bella was happy, too—she was staying close by and going back to school. And, hopefully, she'd live at home and commute. Nothing is set in stone, and no actions have been taken just yet. They just decided, and Gio's going back to Texas tomorrow.
Sonny called me a few hours ago. They got held up—being so excited after the ceremony, of course. Sonny and Maggie tied the knot yesterday afternoon. They went through with it and are actually on their way home as we speak. And I was so happy for my son . . .
Not able to trust many with my future plans, I felt badly for tearing the newlyweds apart. But they have their whole lives to fuck and make goo-goo eyes at each other.
I needed Sonny, and he was to meet me at the hospital at five—soon, actually.
It's Monday afternoon, and all this shit . . . everything happened from Thursday on.
Dame hasn't even been here for a full forty-eight hours just yet, and it felt like an eternity.
"Bella…" I tossed her hair away from her shoulder. She and Kylie had been keeping vigil practically since we brought him in. I felt badly for baby girl, that she was devoting what was left of her weekend with Gio to her mother, her brother. Kylie was concerned for Dame, but she was truly here for Bella.
Saturday night, Caius rang the doorbell at around midnight and bitched about his knee—said he needed help taking Dame out of the car. I helped him, and my son was out cold, covered in his own vomit. My buddy whined about his back seat, but . . . Damion was hardly breathing.
I thought he'd sleep it off, and then Bella freaked out. She knew something was wrong, having those Mom/Spidey Senses of hers. Caius and I were fast to shove him back into the car and speed to the hospital.
It fucked with my head. There was all this movement going on, and it was a few hours before we were told he'd be all right.
They couldn't guarantee shit. Doctors never can, but the one I spoke to . . . He said we were out of the woods. Damion could have been discharged earlier, and his extended stay is just a precaution . . . because my wife was very insistent.
"You should go home." I bent low to kiss her neck.
Her mouth pulled into a crooked grin. "He's doing good." She sounded nasally and coughed lightly. "Get away from me. If you get sick—"
"I'm not taking care of him!" Kylie shouted.
"Shhh!" Bella was fast to place her finger to her lips.
Our daughter settled down. "You know how you get." She looked at me when she said that.
"Both of you," I said, staring at Kylie. "You—take Mom home. Give her medicine, makes sure she eats." She nodded along with me, while Bella gave me the stink-eye. "Mom needs to rest." I massaged Bella's shoulders.
"Edward—" She wanted to fight me, shrugging me off.
"Ky, go get me some coffee." I dug into my pocket for some cash.
"I have money," she whispered, which was a first.
I looked around myself.
"Um…" Kylie stopped. "This sounds selfish, but can Gio hang out at the house…if we're going home? We'll be quiet, and Maggie just sent me a text . . . She and Sonny—"
"I'm not leaving—"
"Yes, you guys can hang out." I cut Bella off. "Gio's still here?"
Kylie nodded. "So is Uncle Aro."
"Tell your uncle to bring the car around. Get me my coffee, and then Gio can walk you guys down."
Kylie agreed, giving Dame's foot a squeeze. "He's really gonna be okay?"
"Yes," I assured her.
She grinned, blowing me a kiss before disappearing.
I sat on Dame's bed, facing Bella. "I'm taking him out of here tonight—"
"You can't—"
I gestured to Damion. "Doctor says he's getting discharged anyway. I'm taking him up to Platts. We're going to talk and get to the bottom of a few things—"
"My baby." She cried, grasping his hand.
"Mo-mommy…" Damion croaked, turning his head.
"I'm here, baby," Bella whispered, rubbing the side of his face. But otherwise, Damion was still sleeping . . . I think. It breaks my heart, but even sick . . . I couldn't trust him. "I'll talk to the doctor again. I want him admitted. I want him looked at." She brought her voice down even more. "There's something wrong with him."
I shook my head, because I didn't agree with her.
"What if he tried to kill himself?" She sniffled, having a hard time.
I handed her a tissue. "Blow."
She smacked my hand away. "You wanna leave? You can leave. Dame's staying right here and so am I." She wouldn't look at me.
I sighed, exasperated. "At this point, I'm not really asking you. Sonny will be here soon—"
"And where the fuck has he been?" She coughed into her fist, gasped, and hacked some more.
"Listen to yourself." I was referring to her health, not her words, although it was a good interruption.
"Sonny was supposed to find him—"
"Damion is a grown-ass man. He's twenty-four. Just like Kylie has to mature, fucking Dame should too." I rubbed her cheek with my thumb. "And Sonny . . . that's not his responsibility."
"But if Sonny wasn't looking for him, he should have told us, so we could have."
I didn't address those words. "Now, Sonny's going to help me with some shit." I shrugged. "I need you . . . This is one of those times where I need you not to ask me shit. I need you to trust me. You'll hear from us. I'll call you if anything . . . but . . . Bella, please." I grasped her hand. "I'm not saying I know what's best. I have an idea, and . . . I think it'll work."
"What's this idea?"
"Madonn!" I slapped my knee. "Why are you being like this?"
"Because you tell me everything else . . . and this concerns our son . . . He needs to stay here, get better. You discharging him—Edward, I don't know if I could forgive you," she cried. "If something happened . . ."
I looked to Damion and nudged his leg. "Yo…!"
He scrunched his nose, his eyelids fluttering. "What?" His voice was hoarse.
"See?" I gestured to him. "He's fucking sleeping it off." She was acting like he was dying.
"My head hurts," he whispered.
"Dame?" Bella was in his face now.
I pinched his toe, and he flinched. "See?"
"Damion, it's Mommy…"
"What?" He groaned.
I held my wife's shoulders. "Bella, look at me."
She gulped, meeting my gaze.
"He's going to be fine. I'll give him plenty of water. I'll make sure he eats. Fucking trust me like you have the past twenty-seven years!"
"Don't fight," Dame said.
Bella leaned over, planting her lips to his cheek. "I love you." She pushed his hair back.
"Maggie…?"
I shook my head, staring down at him.
"It's me, Mommy." She looked back to me. "He's still not right."
"Asking for Maggie?" I cocked a brow. "No, that sounds about right. Bella, please." Maybe I was a dick, but I pulled her away from him.
"I'm back." Kylie had my coffee in her hand.
I took it from her, ushering Bella into her side. "Go home. I'll be in touch." Bella was less than enthused when I kissed her.
"In touch?" Kylie asked.
I didn't say anything. I just stared into Bella's eyes, pleading and begging her to trust me.
"He better—"
"He'll be fine," I promised.
"You better—" She waved her finger.
"I'll call you—every few hours, I'll call you."
Her lip quivered.
"Mommy?" That made Kylie tear up.
"All right." I chuckled. "You two . . . youse need to go."
"I hate this," Bella told me.
"If you didn't? I'd think it was weird. Okay?" I nipped her lips again.
"Maggie and Sonny are here," Kylie whispered. "She's wearing this Dior pantsuit . . . I love it. I hope she lets me borrow it." She sipped her tea and then drooled on herself. "Hot."
I laughed, reaching to rub her cheek. "Send your brother in, but take Maggie with you guys," I said, walking out into the hall. It took a minute, and then they followed me. "It'll be okay."
This time, Bella pulled on my shirt—pulled me down to her and gave me a great big smooch. "There . . . Now you'll get sick and come home that much faster." She turned her head to sneeze into her elbow.
Wearing a smile, I kissed those salty, booger- and germ-infested lips again. "Now I'm counting on it." Okay, I'm a horrible patient, and every single member of my family loathes when I have so much as a cold. I can't help it. I was born that way.
She sighed, linking her arm with Kylie's, going toward the visiting area. Bella knew she needed to leave. A nurse approached her earlier with a mask, telling her to put it on. My wife sounded like she needed a bed—a room in this hospital, too—and she was doing no one any good by being here. It was for herself—her own peace of mind.
But she was overreacting.
They said he drank too much, and people do die from alcohol poisoning. I knew that, but Damion's case wasn't that dire.
With my coffee in my hand, I walked over to Damion's bed. "You putting on some act?" I asked.
He cleared his throat, and he was likely awake for the past fifteen minutes. "No."
"Why'd you do this?"
He shrugged a shoulder, kept his eyes closed. "I was just drinking . . . I just kept drinking." His face crumbled. "I—I wanted to feel better."
"Shhh." I put my coffee down and got in bed with him. "Don't cry."
"I'm sorry for everything."
"I know," I said. "And everything's going to be okay, but you gotta be straight with me."
". . . promise." He took in a shaky breath.
"We're leaving tonight . . . We're going up to Platts—"
"No!" he shouted, waking up a lot more, practically sitting up. "Don't make me go there, please." He hadn't been up there for . . . for over a decade. I was surprised he even remembered it. He sounded scared shitless, though.
"Yes." His reaction sealed the deal even more.
"I thought you sold it—"
"It's just a house . . . on a dirt road in the woods. It's just a house." My words were hushed and soft as I rubbed his bicep. "Damion," I hugged him tightly, like I did when he was little, "Daddy would never let anything happen to you."
For the life of me, I couldn't figure out why he was acting like a terrified child. But I'd be what he needed now, what he might have needed back then, something I might have failed to be back when he was a kid . . .
If it was up to me, my kids would never cry. They'd never be embarrassed or humiliated or disappointed. They'd never get hurt. They'd never feel an ounce of pain.
That's how much we love them.
One time, Bella said this to me. Her exact words were, "I wish I could place all three of them in a bubble for safekeeping, someplace where there are no psychos, there's no drugs, or bullets, or anything that could harm them, no danger. I never said it was rational, but that's the way I feel."
I feel that way, too. She hit the nail on the head.
"I'm sorry," he cried, holding me to him. "I'm sorry . . ."
"Shhh." I kept my lips planted to his temple. "For once in my life…I have someone who needs me," I softly sang, "someone I've needed so long. For once unafraid, I can go where life leads me, somehow I know I'll be strong." I rocked us and he settled down. And I stopped singing, afraid it might made him weep even more.
After a few quiet moments, I said, "I remember Mom singing that to you a few times—trying to get you to sleep when you were scared."
He didn't say anything, burying his head into my chest.
"I love you . . . We're so—so sorry we couldn't protect you." My voice broke, tears falling from my eyes. "I'm sorry I wasn't there—that I didn't try hard enough, that I didn't . . . I fucked up a lot." I wiped my eyes. "You know how much we love you."
"It's embarrassing," he whispered. "And now everybody knows."
"Not everyone," I said.
"She stole everything . . . I didn't know how to feel, and I couldn't tell anyone. I just . . . I can't make excuses for why I'm the way I am. That happened . . . plus all the other stuff, and no one understood, so . . . I just . . . I didn't think anyone would care, and I would smile less and less." He sniffled. "And I was tired—after Julie broke up with me. I mean, how many times did I have to hear, 'be a man', 'speak up' . . . 'he isn't right'. I wasn't—being brave or speaking my mind. And . . . I always want people to hurt, like I hurt." He poked his chest.
"Hey."
Looking over to the doorway, I saw Sonny.
"Want me to come back?" he asked.
I shook my head. "Did you bring clothes?"
He held up a duffle bag. "I grabbed stuff for you, too."
I nodded, wiping my eyes and sitting up. "I'll go take care of the paperwork. You . . . help your brother get dressed."
Sonny agreed, taking some clothes out for Dame.
And maybe . . . after we face a few of his fears up in Plattsburgh, I'll take him to a car dealership so he could finally get a whip. That made sense to me now, why he never wanted a car. Because of what happened with Sonny, he's likely been frightened of car lots. Fuck if I knew, but it seemed plausible.
/=/=/=/=/=/
It took quite a while for a nurse to give me that damn paperwork, and even longer for them to unhook him from the IVs, and then Dame just undid them himself. There were very few discharge instructions because we were just leaving after signing him out. The nurse urged me to wait until morning, until a doctor looked at him again.
"You guys head up there." My head was in Sonny's driver's side window, and Damion was already in the back seat. "You'll be fine." I reached back, and Dame met me halfway—for once—and squeezed my hand. "I'm going to be right behind you guys."
"Just get in." Sonny jerked his head. "We'll all go."
I shook my head. "I'll be behind youse."
With a few taps to the roof of his car, Sonny pulled out of the parking spot. That was when I saw my buddy paces away. Cautious, I approached him, bumming a cigarette and leaning against his car.
"I hope you know . . . I have eyes on you now."
"Skip, you can trust me," he said. "I'm actually a little offended."
"No one can know about this." I pulled on the smoke, and I'd already given Anton the order to ice this motherfucker. Anton had no idea why he was to kill his friend, but it was a direct order from me. Aro was supposed to see it through and step in if Anton couldn't or wouldn't do it. It's comical—the chain of events.
My excuse was that this fucker had been talking to the Feds; however, I made that shit up.
"I filled the tank and it's a four cylinder. How far you goin' anyway?" He didn't even know where I was headed.
I never answered him.
"Well, you should be good to go," he said.
"Bet." I slapped my hand to his before entering the car.
There was some traffic in Manhattan, and then I got the call when I'd just reached the Thruway.
Brando, Lauren's babysitter, was caught in a drive-by shooting near his crib. Police are swarming his 'hood, and that settled that. And I was impressed—that Anton took care of it so quickly.
I drove the speed limit, and I gave no pigs cause to pull me over.
The ride up to Plattsburgh was tiring and tedious, and I'll be damned if my throat didn't feel scratchy.
With my stereo blasting, I went through a Dunkin' Donuts drive-thru to get some tea with honey.
And then I had a sneezing fit right when I hit Lake George.
Bella fulfilled her wish. I was getting sick already, and that shit pissed me off.
But it was to be expected . . . It's not like I've kept my distance these past few days. That recent kiss wasn't the cause either. I've been on my way to having Bella's cold since Thursday night.
Heaving a heavy sigh, I left the car, quick to stretch my legs once I'd arrived.
Damion and Sonny were sitting on the porch. They had no lights on to indicate their presence, but I saw them when my headlights glazed over their faces.
"We just got here," Sonny said. "We waited." He gave a brief glance to Dame, which made me think maybe he just didn't want to go inside.
That was when I heard it, a thump, a muffled scream.
"What was that?" Sonny asked.
For the first time since I concocted this plan, I felt nervous—wondering if I was fucking Damion up even more.
"Were you followed?" I raised a brow, ignoring my trunk and walking up onto the porch.
"No . . ." Sonny stared at the car. "Who's—" He stopped talking, and my eldest knows me all too fucking well.
"You should quit smoking." I grabbed a cigarette from Dame as his cell vibrated in his hand. "Who's that?" I jerked my chin.
"Amelia . . . I don't know how she knows I left. Maybe she called the hospital."
I nodded. "She did that yesterday—asked Mom if it was okay she was informed of your progress when she called." I sat on the steps, bristling at the cold. "You put the heat on?"
"Opened all the vents, too." Sonny nodded and hit Dame's leg. "Shut off your cell."
"Why? I'm not going to answer it. I told Amelia how I felt—fuck her."
"Shut it off . . ." He gave me a wary glance.
Damion showed us his phone as he shut the power down. "Happy?"
"Yours, too." Sonny smiled at me.
I rolled my eyes. "Mine doesn't even have GPS activated, but okay."
"Who's in the trunk?" Sonny asked.
"Trunk?" Damion whispered. "There's some fucker in your trunk?"
Nervous, I stared back at them. "Lauren."
"What?" Their faces mirrored each other's and they spoke in unison.
"Whoa…whoa…whoa." Sonny waved his hands. "I knew Mom might go nuts and clip her, but—"
"You can't save her. It's done," I told him.
Sonny shook his head. "I really . . . wow." He held his forehead, standing up to pace. "People are going to notice she's gone. What—"
"I had someone pack her bags," I whispered, "load them into her whip, and leave it at the Port Authority—a side street."
"Oh, and that doesn't scream mob hit." Sonny snorted.
"No body, no crime," I sighed, looking to Damion. He hadn't said anything so far. "I always told you . . . face the world guns blazing, face your fears."
"I remember," he mumbled.
"You ice her, and then we're done—you hear me? You let go of the past, you move on. Karma is a bitch, and she has this coming." I pointed to the car, hearing Lauren kick and scream. That satisfied me. Plus, knowing she'd been in there for six hours already . . . tied up, duct tape on her mouth, drugged up . . . she probably woke up when I was halfway here.
Brando was only supposed to shoot her up with a little bit of dope, that's it, which . . . high on heroin, in a fucking trunk—that's gotta be the worst kind of torture.
"Dad?" Sonny tapped my shoulder.
I tore my eyes away from the car. "Yeah?"
"You're serious?"
"As a heart attack," I answered.
"I'll do it," Damion agreed.
"Bro." Sonny held his shoulders. "This isn't going to help you."
"Shut up," I told him.
"How is this going to be beneficial? He's all fucked-up right now." Sonny was getting heated, his voice rising. "He needs to chill the fuck out, heal. I don't know, but this..."
I pointed to myself. "Then I'll do it, but he needs to know she's gone—she doesn't get to hold this over him. He doesn't get to be her victim anymore. Understand?"
Sonny sighed and Damion kept his head down.
"I gotta pee," Dame said, standing and going toward a tree.
"In the house." I jerked a thumb. "It's just a house."
"Come on." Sonny put his arm around him, ushering him inside.
I looked up to the stars, swearing that—in my heart—this was the right thing to do, for a fucker like Damion, for a fucker like me . . . if it was me.
A few minutes later, I trailed into the house after them. We never turned on any lights, but Sonny was quick to approach me with a half-eaten bag of Fritos.
"These are still good? You came up here recently?"
I laughed. "When I went away with Mom…"
"Oh…" He nodded, tossing them back into the cabinet. "I was just looking." He leaned on the counter. "This place . . . it brings back a lot of memories. Last time I was here . . . I was eleven. That fucker was like eight. I can't believe he remembers."
I shrugged. "Me neither . . . Apparently, he remembers a lot of things. You ever feel fucked because . . . you know?"
He shook his head. "I knew when I was little—because you guys kept telling me. Youse were doing shit for my own good, for our protection."
"It's true," I whispered.
"Wow." Damion came back into the kitchen with a pillow that had a Spiderman case. "This was mine." He wore a hint of a smile. "It's dusty as fuck, though."
I chuckled. "It's not like we pay a groundskeeper. Your mother tried dusting and vacuuming last month…" I trailed off. "But we decided to get rid of it. Too many people know where this place is . . . Now, I guess we have to keep it." I sniffled, reaching for a paper towel.
"Fuck…you're getting sick," Sonny said.
I didn't reply and blew my nose.
My eldest spoke again. "Are we doing this or what?"
I raised a brow, surprised he was so down with this suddenly.
"I don't have a choice." He left us, going out onto the porch.
"Sonny and I can do this," I told Damion. "If you wanna rest..."
He shook his head. "No…"
"Okay."
Since it was dark and I knew where they were, I went to the shed to grab a couple of shovels. From there, I heard Damion and Sonny bullshitting, which surprised me. They were talking about their grandfather—my father—and his fear of spiders. Then they moved onto me being sick. They had jokes, and it was awesome to hear them laugh.
"You hold these." I handed two shovels to Dame. "You…" I looked to Sonny, jerking my head to the car.
He took the keys and lifted the trunk.
Lauren was crying, her cries still muffled, her eyes wide.
Damion peeked over, a look of disgust on his face, but then he quickly turned away—a bit shaky.
"Take her out," I told Sonny.
He stood her up and she collapsed to her knees, and he tried again to no avail. Lauren was weak, couldn't stand, and so Sonny threw her over his shoulder. "Let's go."
I led the way, leading them farther into the woods. Damion stood by me, and I handed him a silenced nine. He took it, holding it with a steady hand, his chin up.
And I hoped . . . prayed to God this helped him let go of the past.
Lauren was a dead bitch anyway. Bella could have done it the other day. I would have done it eventually, but this way . . . it's almost like her death will mean that much more.
In the end, we only walked about a half a mile into the trees. I could faintly see the cars and the house, but it truly didn't matter. There was already a dusting of snow on the ground, and the place would have over a foot of it until springtime.
And by then, she'd be a distant memory. No one would be looking for her, and there'd hardly be anything left but her bones.
A pseudonym no one knows about owns this house. It's the only one for over thirty miles, and I wasn't worried about a goddamn thing—just Damion.
When Sonny plopped her ass down onto the ground, I was surprised. He had hate in his eyes, and I wondered what the fuck she ever did to him. Then again, she was supposed to be his mother-in-law. And I knew he hated her on principle alone for what she did to Dame, or maybe he just didn't give a fuck.
"Whenever you're ready," I told Dame.
Lauren just screamed louder and louder, although we could barely make it out. Then Damion removed the duct tape, which made her collapse. "Scream, and I'll shove my cock down your throat."
I nearly jumped back by the vigor—venom in his voice—that he meant it. That was when I decided to stand down, let Sonny and Dame handle this shit, run this show.
Damion backhanded her, making Lauren fall over again.
"Yo…pop one in her dome, and let's get fucking digging," Sonny said. "But first," he held up a finger, staring down to Lauren, "did'ju touch him?"
She rapidly shook her head no. "Think of Katie—A-A-AJ, G-Gio!" she stammered.
"Fuck AJ," Sonny said. "Answer my question. Did you fuck my brother? There's still a chance." He was fucking with her, obviously.
"He was—" She stared at Dame and then to me. "He—I mean, we did, but—" She fell back when Dame hit her again, but she didn't get up. She lay there and cried.
"She had Mom arrested—on Thanksgiving," I whispered to Sonny, knowing his heart truly might not be in this, but now it would be.
"What?" he asked.
"Fucking bitch!" Damion raised his nine, holding it about a foot from her head. His teeth were clenched together, tears falling down his cheeks, his hand shaking . . .
He paused.
Damion either couldn't or wouldn't do it, and . . .
"Do it," I said.
He threw the nine down, groaning, letting out an agonized cry as he fell to his knees. "I can't keep doing this."
I dropped down next to him. "Hey…"
"She—she—" His wobbly finger pointed to her. "I hate you!" he screamed at her.
Lauren was slowly inching away, her feet still bound. She wasn't going to get very far, but then her head jerked back along with her body, a small whipping noise cutting through the air.
Sonny pulled the trigger.
Awestruck and mildly impressed, I stared up to him.
He was looking down to his brother. "Now we're even."
Damion clamped his eyes shut, nodding solemnly.
"It's over," I whispered, palming his cheek. "Baby, it's all over."
"Why couldn't I—" I think Damion was asking himself that. Meanwhile, I felt it in my heart that if he'd been the one to clip her, he'd sleep even better at night. Yet, I think this way worked out well, too . . . maybe for the best.
"I don't know," I told him. "Lots of cats have trouble icing women."
"Yeah, that's it." Sonny's tone was sarcastic as he heaved the shovel into the semi-frozen ground. "I'm not doing this shit by myself."
"I don't feel good," I said, standing up, taking Dame with me. "You two—get busy." I handed Dame a shovel. He sniffled, wiping his eyes, and quickly got to work. "You feel tired, you stop." I forgot he was out of it, too.
The three of us were quiet. The woods—the area around us was creepy-quiet, and I hate that shit. I'm used to city-quiet, which is a contradiction. The city is never silent, but we were all strapped, so what did we have to worry about?
Sonny's chest heaved as he tore off his coat. "While we're all together." He faced me. "I don't want anyone else knowing about this shit . . . He's already working for Jersey."
I looked to Damion. "What?"
"The Porsche," Sonny said.
Damion refused to make eye contact, focusing on his task. "Another mistake. I'm done with everything New Jersey."
"You sure about that?" I asked, quirking a brow.
He didn't reply.
"This…" I twirled a finger, "was me trying to help you. This was also me trusting you. Can I trust you, Damion?"
"Of course," he whispered.
"No, for real," I said. "You're pissed at Amelia, be pissed at her until you get over it. But as of now, you are done. You're done with everything. I don't even want you drinking—"
"I'm never drinking again."
"Don't let those be your famous last words." I chuckled. "In the meantime, you focus back on school. You do your best. You get your life back on track. You hit rock-bottom this weekend, Dame . . . You should even check out counseling. Do it for yourself or to appease your mother. See a shrink, but you leave my life—the shit I do—out of your mouth."
"I'm no longer going to ask you to respect my relationship," Sonny said. "She's my wife now."
Damion winced. "Sonny—"
"Don't say anything."
"Congratulations," Damion whispered.
Sonny wasn't expecting that and kept digging.
"Dame."
He turned back to me.
"You can't just write Amelia off. Don't make any hasty decisions. Take your time, think about what you really want." I wasn't going to tell him why just yet. That shit wasn't my business to tell him. Although, I urged Bella to take her to lunch when she was feeling better to see what was really going on. "You've also fucked me and Sonny over how many times? Let's be real." I shrugged and then sneezed. "Fuck."
They both chuckled at me, which was . . . it was music to my ears again.
"Bottom line." Sonny stopped again. "You need to stop being so fucking deceitful. Say what's on your mind, but . . . Fuck, bro. This has to stop. You're not allowed to fuck me over anymore." He snorted. "That ship has sailed. I'll bury you right here. You'll be next to the bitch you hate for eternity."
"Hey!" I exclaimed.
"It is what it is," he told me.
I nodded because he was correct. "He's right."
"Don't take it the wrong way when I keep my distance." Dame held his head.
"You all right?" I asked.
"I'm getting dehydrated—sweating," he whispered.
I peered over, seeing that the hole was quite a few feet deep. "That's good enough."
Sonny used his foot to push her in. Lauren's body made a hollow thumping sound. "I don't know what's wrong with you. I can't imagine what this bitch did to you, how much she hurt you. I can't relate or understand, but everything else . . . Bro, I had the same childhood you did," he told his brother.
"And look at what you just did," Damion was laughing, gesturing to the grave. "You're just as fucked as I am, only you don't know it yet. All of which probably makes you even crazier than me."
"No." Sonny shook his head, but he was smiling. "I don't think so. I just know what has to be done, and I fucking do it."
I pointed to my eldest—not saying a word. He had proper Skip training, and that's why. Maybe he doesn't enjoy whacking fuckers. But when push comes to shove, he's painted in a corner, he has it in his heart, or he'll benefit from it, he'll fucking do it.
"Dame . . . I've been looking out for you your whole life. I'm not your father. Therefore, I don't have to reconcile with you." Sonny's voice was filled with emotion suddenly. "I'm not acting like a pussy either. You hurt me, you betrayed me . . . I'm not so quick to forgive you, but now we're even."
Damion had no reply; he just stared at the ground, and I respected what Sonny said.
"Over time . . . hey, maybe I'll forgive you, but I won't forget." He got busy tossing dirt into the hole. "I'll play nice for Mom—for Dad—but if you fuck me again, God help you. And this isn't a threat. I'm telling you like it is."
"On my life . . . I respect that," Damion replied.
"You don't work for Jersey no more either. You hear me?" Sonny asked, and I dug it—he was saying a lot of the shit I wanted to and more.
My eldest was going to fill my shoes nicely someday . . . He'll probably do a better job, too, since he has logical thinking on his side.
/=/=/=/=/
After we kicked leaves over the grave and covered our tracks, we all bunked in the living room. Their old room was dusty as fuck—having not been used in over a dog's age—and the three of us in my bed? That wasn't happening.
Sonny's big ass took the couch, while Dame and I blew up some air mattresses. He placed his right next to mine.
After we were finished outside, he didn't have much else to say—gulping quite a few glasses of water and snuggling up in the blankets.
Sonny went out like a light when he got out of the shower. But Damion was still awake when I called Bella. She wanted to talk to him, and it was all gravy. We were leaving in the morning, and we were all fine.
"You okay?" I asked him.
He was on his stomach, resting his chin on his folded forearms. "You're a good father."
I grinned. "Shut up."
"I'm serious." His face crumbled and he covered it.
"Hey…" I pulled on his arm.
"I don't know what's wrong with me," he whispered. "This sounds corny as fuck, but…it's like I was blind before. I can see how . . . how you've helped me, how Sonny's helped me. I don't know."
"Why couldn't you pull the trigger?" I asked.
He swallowed. "Despite what she did, despite how much I hated her, she was still Katie, AJ, and Gio's mother . . . I just—I thought of them. Oddly, I thought about Mom, too...How losing her was always my biggest fear as a kid." He turned to look at his brother. "What's he going to do about Katie?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "Aro knew this day was coming. He couldn't outright agree . . . and I might get approached about her disappearance. I doubt it, though. My ducks are in a row, provided you don't open your mouth." I knew I didn't have to worry about Sonny, but I didn't know about Damion—I wasn't 100%.
"I'll take this to my grave."
I rubbed his back. "You should have told us."
"For a while, it was just—like I thought I should feel lucky, having gotten lucky?" He cringed. "But honestly, I never even thought about sex before that...I hardly knew what it was. Then…days, weeks, even months would go by, and I'd just feel dirtier and dirtier about it. She said your name, so . . . and it made me resent it every time someone said I looked like you. I hated you." He faced me. "Because…it was like she did that because of you." His lip quivered. "I'm sorry I caused so much trouble."
In my heart, I believed him. "I'd never do anything to hurt you. Your mother and I . . . Shit. Your mother was about to pull the trigger the other day. We'd kill and die for you, Dame—Sonny and Kylie, too." I squeezed his hand, clearing my throat of the lump, although it might have been phlegm. "Raising youse . . . we did the best we could. We tried . . . And we couldn't be straight with you guys. And Kylie? Fuck. She didn't see a quarter of what you guys did. I'm sorry I couldn't shield you the way I did her."
"I hate myself . . . I did all this shit. Mostly, it was because I was angry with you. I was always so angry with you. I was stupid." He slightly shook his head, his words breaking my heart. I mean, the truth hurts.
"Can we start over? I meant what I said out there. This is over. Lauren is gone—and you need to move on from your past. You need to smell the roses . . . do something," I sighed. "And we need to start over." I nodded. "You and me—we'll be buddies."
"All right." He rasped.
"We won't be chillin' at Eclipse." I raised a brow.
He smiled. "Trust that I won't miss that place." He rolled onto his back. "I've been thinking about Julie . . . life was simpler—"
"Amelia," I said. "With Julie, life was simpler because you didn't really love her. You love Amelia."
"You're right, and I tried my best—to get Amelia to know me, and look what she did?" He snorted. "I can't trust her."
"She did the right thing." I stared up to the ceiling along with him.
"Can you ladies shut the fuck up?" Sonny huffed, sitting up. "I'm eating your Fritos." He scratched his balls on his way to the kitchen.
I threw a pillow at his ass. "Bring me a bottle of water."
Sonny nodded.
"Here." Damion handed me his, which was something—just him sharing his beverage with me felt like a small victory. Last week, he wouldn't care if I was the thirstiest motherfucker alive, or dead from dehydration.
"Thanks." I didn't take it. "I'm getting sick, though."
"How come," Damion laughed, "you kept sounding more and more stuffed-up as your sentence went on?"
"What?" I asked.
"Nothing." That smart-ass shook his head.
"Catch." Sonny had a mouthful as he tossed me the Poland Spring bottle. "Dame, Amelia knows how this shit works, possibly better than you do. She probably told Mom to get Lauren killed." He sat back with the bag of chips. "Us men, we do...our women scheme, get us to do shit, their bidding. Know that fuckery from now."
"Very true." I pointed.
"You think so?" Damion asked.
Sonny made a noise, confirming. "I don't know why . . . but she loves you. Think about it. Maybe she doesn't know Mom that well. But someone hurting one of her kids? To that degree? Amelia knew someone was gonna clip Lauren. All she had to do was inform Mom…Maybe it was sneaky, maybe it was fucked-up, but she didn't betray your confidence for a silly reason. It makes sense." He pointed to his temple.
"She still told Mom." Damion was going to be stubborn, and his voice was laced with that cunty attitude he gets.
"You need time," I told him. "Tell Amelia that. Don't keep her waiting around, 'cause that'll start a conflict for me. And you owe me."
"Right," Damion agreed. "About Maggie—"
"Keep my wife's name out ya mouth. I don't wanna know. Just let it go." Sonny rushed out.
"No," he whispered. "You need to understand. In my eyes, you were Lauren, Maggie was me, and . . . I hope you do love her." He was crying again.
"More than my own life," Sonny said. "More than—more than—"
"…there are stars in the sky." I kept my tone hushed.
"What?" Sonny asked.
"Nothing." I grinned.
"Can you understand?" Damion lifted his head to look at Sonny. "It took me a while to figure it out . . . I was drunk as fuck, had been sleeping in the street . . . I went to Eclipse to tell you that, and then . . ."
"You tried to shoot me."
"To get you to listen!" Damion shouted.
"And yet, you still didn't say shit. All you managed to do was piss me off." Sonny tilted the corner of the bag to his mouth, finishing the Fritos.
Regardless, I loved this. We were all chill. There were no punches being thrown, and we were all talking.
"Answer your brother." I nudged Dame.
"I don't know. I didn't think—I didn't think you'd believe me. I had my wires crossed, thinking the admiration I had for Maggie was like…lust?" he asked us.
No one answered him, not even Sonny.
"We did click…the night we met, but it might have been one-sided. I don't know," Damion sighed. "I'm sure it was." He likely added for Sonny. "I'm not fucking with you . . . she was smiley and giddy and everything I once was." He covered his eyes.
I leaned on my side, running my fingers through his hair, and he stopped, composed himself, relaxing. "Let's go to sleep."
"Whatever your reasons were . . ." Sonny paused. "Just stay away from her."
"I will," Damion agreed.
Thank you for reading.
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