Scarlet Stone, page 26
In the middle of the night, a half-stifled cry jerks my body from sleep. “Help …” It takes a few labored breaths to realize the agonizing plea is mine. I broke a couple of bones. They repaired my ankle with some pins and a metal plate. I’m on pain medication. Why does it still hurt like a motherfucker, making me nauseous with its throbbing intensity?
Theo jumps from the chair and runs out the door, returning with a nurse. He stayed. For a brief moment that realization is its own analgesic.
The nurse increases my pain medication. “This should help you sleep again.” She smiles. Why is she smiling? I want to punch it straight off her face. Clearly the pain has me a little on edge.
When she leaves, I turn my attention to Theo, trying to hide my grimace. “You stayed.”
He leans down and rests his cheek on my hand for a few seconds before brushing his beard back and forth across it several times. Then he presses his lips to it, letting them linger—easing my pain. “You’re mine. Where else would I be?”
I think my dad is falling in love with the woman who killed your mum. My heart claims some of the pain. I’m not sure the meds will ease that.
“I’m worried you’re going to sue the home owner for your accident.”
An actual smile tries to overtake my grimace.
“Nellie offered to pay for all your medical expenses. She’s obviously taken a real liking to you.”
I close my eyes. “That’s … generous of her.”
His lips press to mine. “Sleep, beautiful … just sleep.”
Beautiful …
I will always love you, Theodore Reed.
*
I’m in bed with the devil. Again.
Oscar insisted I come back to Savannah to recover. Theo insisted I stay in Lexington.
I’m back at my flat in Savannah. Oscar won. Nellie paid to have a private jet transport me “home.” Theo arrived a day later. Fuming.
My instinct to kick and scream, insisting I stay in Lexington, was trodden by a lovely air cast and crutches. I still had a verbal tantrum. Oscar Stone is his own kind of law. Law number one: no tantrums.
Oscar’s bed is gone, but he left the massage chair, and I can’t deny my gratitude. The rest of my flat has been completely furnished as well. Thanks to Nellie Moore—the devil.
“It’s not a bribe.”
I laugh.
Oscar answers my sarcasm with a reprimanding scowl as he hands me a cup of tea. He takes a seat on my new sofa. Theo took off as soon as Oscar arrived. Two alphas in one room is not a good idea.
“Nel is not like that. She’d turn herself in tomorrow if that’s what you really want her to do.”
“You mean, if I’m going to tell Theo.”
He takes a sip of his tea.
“Do you love her?”
Oscar stares into the cup, eyes squinted a bit. “I would miss her if we weren’t together.”
“Can those eight words be decoded to mean love?”
“Do you miss Daniel?”
Everything always goes back to Daniel. He seems to be Oscar’s favorite measurement for my emotions.
“You said you love him and that you’ll always love him. But do you miss him?”
Now, I stare at my tea. It’s quite mesmerizing.
He clears his throat. I look up as he glances at his watch. “Your Mr. Reed has been gone for a little over an hour. Do you miss him?”
“Yes.” Dear. God. I can’t believe how quickly that answer came out of my mouth. There was no thought, it was instinct.
“Well, there you have it.”
Yes, there I have it. Oscar cares for Nellie very deeply. If she went to prison, he would feel how I felt when Theo left for Lexington and I never thought I’d see him again.
This man spent a decade in prison for me. He’s my family, my blood. My love for him is eternal. But Theo has become my life.
“If I tell him, he could try and kill her. That’s worst case. Then there’s all of the other scenarios that feel nearly as devastating: I don’t tell him and my cancer gets worse, I tell him and he doesn’t kill her, but you and I can never see each other again because the people we’ve chosen to be with can’t ever be together.”
I shake my head. “There’s no good answer. So tell me what to do.” This is not me. Why can’t I make this decision?
My name is Scarlet Stone, and I don’t like indecisiveness. I make a decision and stick with it. Consequences be damned.
He puts his cup down on the coffee table and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I can’t make this decision for you.”
“You make decisions for me all the time! I’m here because you decided I needed to be here. I stole a heart because you decided I needed to save Daniel. I’ve lived with the guilt over you going to prison for a crime that I committed because you decided my freedom was more important than yours. All the time! You make decisions for me all the time! Now, when I need you to make a decision, you don’t have a bloody opinion on the matter?!”
My heart pounds in my ankle as tears race down my face. Never in my life have I been such a clusterfuck of emotions, crying all the damn time. I’m lost and out of control, scared, and confused.
He stands and grabs a handkerchief from his coat pocket. “My love for you will not waiver one bit with your decision.” Bending down, he puts the handkerchief in my hand and whispers in my ear, “The only person I truly cannot live without in this world is you.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I hold my breath and all the sobs ready to explode as he kisses my cheek. A few seconds later, the door closes and I fall to pieces.
*
The door creaks open. My puffy eyes feel like they could creak trying to open as well.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.” Theo closes the door behind him.
“Where did you go?” I rub my eyes and my throbbing sinuses.
“For a drive. Have you been crying?”
“Yes. I’m rather emotional right now. I hate being so incapacitated. It took me ten minutes to make it to the toilet and back for a wee that took less than ten seconds.”
“Sorry, I wasn’t here.” He kneels down next to my chair and rests his head on my good leg. His desire to feel close to me, always touching me like he needs the reminder that I’m still here—it tightens the noose around my heart.
“I can’t have children.”
He doesn’t move.
“I’m not implying anything. Just stating a fact.”
He nods slowly against my leg. “I’ve been told I snore.”
My finger traces the lines of his face. His eyes close.
“My first time having sex, I faked four orgasms. Apparently, faking one is believable, two is questionable, by four, the bloke loses his erection, runs out the door shoving his pork sword back in his trousers, and never calls again.”
Theo smiles, eyes still shut. “You know if a horse is cold by feeling behind its ears. Cold behind the ears. Cold horse.”
“I have no gag reflex, like … at all.”
I’m not sure which I love more: Theo singing or him laughing. Right now, his laughter feels like a fuzzy blanket on a rainy day, with a cup of tea, a handful of Jammie Dodgers, and a good book.
He sits up and interlaces his fingers behind his head. “I have some money.”
“Yeah? Did you steal it?”
“No.” He smirks. “I want to build a house.”
I shrug. “Well, you’ve got the skills.”
“I want to build it for you—for us. Maybe buy a plant or two and possibly a dog … a goat … a horse.”
Karma. Karma. Karma. What am I going to do with you? My world is right there. Something so far beyond my dreams, something completely perfect, it’s on a silver platter. Yet it’s out of my reach by the width of an ocean. And all I have is a boat with a single broken paddle and a bloody huge hole in the bottom. I’ll never be able to cross it. Ever. I’ll be left here, in the distance, watching it disappear into the sunset.
“And Braxton Ames?”
His jaw clenches as he swallows hard. “He’ll have to build his own house.”
He chose me over revenge. He just … chose me.
“Where are you going to build our house?”
Theo smiles so big my heart’s reminded it never stood a chance.
“My grandfather left my father twenty acres of land in North Carolina, just outside of Asheville. It has 365 degrees of the best mountain views. The beach is a half-day drive away.”
“How are you going to fit building a house into your tour schedule?”
Taking my hand, he presses my index finger to his lips, giving it a soft kiss. “I might stick to a private concert for one.”
The decision has been made. I will take Nellie’s secret to my grave, even if that happens sooner rather than later. Oscar gets his chance at happiness. Theo lets go of his past. I get as many breaths with this man as I can possibly steal. And if the burden becomes too much to bear, I’ll get to die in the arms of the man who I was put on this earth to love.
“When do we move in?”
He chuckles. “In about a year, if I do everything myself.”
“And the interim?”
“We rent someplace nearby.”
“How do we make money?”
He shrugs. “I do some side jobs to supplement us if my savings dips too low. You most likely lift a few wallets when we run errands or look for shopping companion jobs.”
“You know me so well.” I laugh.
“Say, yes.”
Jump, Scarlet. Jump off the fucking cliff.
“I can’t have children.” This needs to be iterated. I need him to understand this reality.
“I want you.”
Tears fill my eyes. “I have cancer.”
“I. Want. You.” He leans forward, sliding his hands through my hair while pressing his lips to mine.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
My name is Scarlet Stone. When I was seventeen, I got in an argument with Oscar and ran away. It felt like the end of the world. The next morning I awoke curled up next to my mum’s gravestone.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I rub my eyes open. Theo comes into focus. There’s only a ghost of light filtering through the curtains. It’s early. I’m sick of sleeping in a chair but sleeping in bed is still worse, in spite of the company.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
His body swallows up half the sofa, long legs spread wide, mobile resting on his thigh, finger tapping it.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Why does he look so menacing this morning? Maybe this is a dream, a throwback to the early stage of our relationship.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
My gaze refocuses on the mobile. It’s mine. Not his.
“Good morning.” I struggle to push myself up a bit. “You’re up early. Did I miss a call?”
“When were you going to tell me?”
The tapping stops, but my gaze remains on my mobile. No question is a better hook than that. I can’t afford to take the bait. He will have to be more—very—specific before I offer any sort of answer. If my world is going to implode, I’m not going to be the one to light the fuse.
My eyes make their way to his. I say nothing.
“Nellie Moore.”
Strike.
A constant rhythm of blinks. That’s all I give him.
“You have pages from some diary or journal of hers on your phone.”
Flame.
I nod slowly, just once.
“She killed my mother.”
Implosion.
“Yes,” I whisper.
He draws in a slow breath, holds it, then releases it, nostrils flared, jaw firm, every visible muscle constricted to the point his whole body shakes. “When…” his voice trembles like it’s taking everything he has not to rip something—or someone—apart “…were you going to tell me?”
“Never.” I don’t think it’s possible to shatter a person’s world without scarring your soul.
I brush my thumbs along his cheeks. “Daniel, I won’t be responsible for your missed opportunity. Do this for me. It’s my dying wish.”
“Jesus Christ, Scarlet…” his voice breaks “…I’m not leaving you to die alone.”
“If you don’t leave … I will.”
Theo throws my mobile against the wall. The pieces of it clink on the wood floor. I know how it feels.
“Lie to me, Scarlet.” He towers over me, chest heaving, teeth bared. “But don’t fucking tell me that you were never going to tell me this!”
If he read every page of her journal, he’d know Nellie killed his mum. But no where in the journal does she disclose the actual affair. It was just a feeling I had when I read it. I have no idea what to say. This isn’t us—we are no longer a lie.
“Say something!” he roars.
I wince. The ache in my heart is not a metaphor. It’s real, tangible, and all-consuming. “Nothing I can say will bring back your parents. Nothing I can say will make what happened okay. Nothing I can say will change the facts.”
“The facts? THE FACTS?!”
I swallow past my fear, which is hard with him inching closer to me, hands clenched, body vibrating with so much anger.
“Please, enlighten me.”
I’m not sure he really means it. But since he said it, I’m going to do what I seem to do best: shatter worlds.
“Your mum and Harold were having an affair.”
His head juts back, eyes narrowed. “No.” He shakes his head.
Now does he see all of the unwritten words that I saw in the journal?
“Nellie found out. She drove to your house with the intention of killing Harold.”
“Stop.” He continues to shake his head.
“She caught them together and aimed the gun at Harold—”
“Stop!” Theo presses the heels of his hands to the side of his head.
“Your mum jumped in front of Harold right as the gun went off.”
“STOP!” He buckles at both the waist and the knees, with his face buried in his hands.
“Theo …” I bend forward, reaching for him, but he stumbles backwards, collapsing onto the sofa.
Averting his red, glassy eyes, he reaches for his pocket.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling the police.”
“Please, don’t.”
He freezes, then slowly looks up at me. “What did you say?”
“It was an accident.”
“My mother is dead,” he says through gritted teeth.
“Oscar loves her.” Theo can’t understand what that really means in the scope of my life and my relationship with Oscar. And at this exact moment, with his finger poised to press send, I can’t convey it quick enough for him to comprehend.
“My. Mother. Is. DEAD! My father is DEAD!”
I swipe at my tears and nod. “I’m sorry.”
The vacant look in his eyes says all there’s left to say.
No more begging.
No more bargaining.
No more lies.
He presses send. I hear his voice, but the words don’t register past the grief of mourning the loss of his parents, Oscar’s future, Nolan, Nellie, but most especially … Theo.
A few minutes later, he ends the call. Holding his mobile in his hands, he stares at it—head bowed, shoulders turned inward. How long before the police arrive at the Moores’? How long before Oscar arrives at my door?
I support my air cast with one hand while I lower the recliner’s footrest.
“Don’t,” he whispers as I reach for my crutches.
The idea of Theo never looking at me again, never touching me again is so unfathomable it feels like a special kind of pain saved for the worst of humanity. I bite my trembling lips together and nod, tears blurring everything. There’s no question about it, I’m far from perfect. I’ve taken things that weren’t mine to take. I’ve hurt one person to save another. I’ve made impossible choices, and I’ve lived with the consequences—as I am now. But I have to believe that I’m not unredeemable. I have to believe that there’s something inside of me that’s worthy of love.
Theo slowly stands. I sniffle and swallow back so much pain it nearly chokes me. I wait for it—pray for it.
Nothing.
Not a single glance.
He turns and opens the door.
“Why were you looking at my phone?” It’s not a plea. I know I no longer have a case. I need to make sense of what just happened. How it happened. I need closure.
Theo keeps his back to me, but pauses halfway out the door. “I was going to ask for your dad’s blessing before proposing to you.”
The door closes.
I hug my stomach, collapsing back in the chair as sobs wrack my whole body.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
My name is Scarlet Stone, and I am alive.
True to his word, Oscar doesn’t blame me. Four months ago, Nellie pled guilty to manslaughter. Harold was arrested and charged with aiding and abetting in the conviction of Braxton Ames as well as attempted murder. After Nolan testified, he sold the mansion and all of his other property and moved to the West Coast.
Oscar walks around Savannah from sunrise to sunset, stopping at book stores and coffee shops. He says very little, but always gives me a warm smile and kiss on the cheek like I’m still the light of his life. I’m not sure if he’s avoiding me or just searching for a new direction.
I feel quite lost myself. Theo disappeared. I haven’t looked for him. What could I possibly say or do to change what has happened? He has the truth. I didn’t stand in the way of him turning in Nellie, and I won’t stand in the way of him grieving the news of his mum cheating on his dad. He is unequivocally the love of my life—of every life I will ever have. He’s branded into my scarred soul.
I wish him well.
Oscar encourages me every day to love myself enough to continue what I “originally came to Savannah to do.” I remind him that I came here to die on my own terms. His response is always the same: “Exactly.” I think I finally understand what he means. Death is inevitable for everyone, but we can make choices in life that increase our chance of taking lots and lots of breaths before our time expires.
