Beast: Learning to Breathe (Devil's Blaze MC #5)

“Don’t say it,” I growl, still hating that word that is only used by sad-sacks with shit for brains.

“But how would he know she’s a girl? I mean even the doctor hasn’t confirmed it. Why would he refer to her as a girl at all?” she whispers, her voice wobbling. She may have beat the panic attack, but the fear is still there. I want to be the one to get rid of that for her. Ain’t that just another bucket of fuck. She’s smart—even in fear. I didn’t catch that. Very few people would know Hayden has proclaimed Maggie a girl. That means Blade has been watching her constantly. He has someone on the inside getting him the information, he has to.

“Who have you mentioned Maggie too?”

“I don’t talk to hardly anyone, though I guess anyone coming in to eat at the diner might have heard me. I can’t trust anyone now, can I?” she whispers, and I can hear the pain inside of her at the thought. Her body tightens, and I kiss her shoulder in response.

“You can trust me.”

“Michael…”

“I’ve got this, Hayden. I won’t fail again. You don’t need to worry,” I tell her, without thinking, only wanting her to stop worrying.

Nothing else is said for a bit. Her breathing has evened out, and I think maybe she has fallen asleep. I should get up from here, though the temptation to stay with her is strong. That’s when I feel her fingers wrap around mine and she pulls our joined hands tighter so they rest above her stomach, just under the curve of her breast. I look up at the ceiling, trying to beat down the urge to rub my arm against the underswell. I can feel my dick—the dick I thought was mostly dead, begin to lengthen. Shit. I feel her fingers from her other hand dance across my skin. I used to hate being touched. It’s the one thing I forbid after I got out of the hospital, even after the burns healed leaving scars in their wake. Hayden’s touch I could easily begin to crave. It’s a soft whisper, gentle and sweet, which is seductive and yet somehow clean and natural. God what I wouldn’t give to feel clean. To feel…normal.

“You have so many tattoos,” she whispers, changing the subject and surprising me completely. I thought she would talk about my scars. My ink was the last thing I thought she would notice. She brings her fingers against my upper arm, right before you get to the elbow. The room is dark, but there’s a faint light shining from the adjoining bathroom. It’s enough that I’m sure she can see…and read. She rolls over on her back. I have the strongest urge to pull my hand away. I don’t know why I don’t. For some reason, I stay right there—like an idiot. “Who is Annabelle?” she asks, and I don’t want to talk about it. I’m not sure I can.

“Someone I lost,” I tell her, and even I can hear the sadness that permeates every syllable of my answer.

“Why did you put stars by her name?” I shouldn’t answer. Hayden is doing it again. She’s getting inside of my head. Getting me to feel…and getting way too close to me. But like a fool, I find myself telling her.

“She used to curl up in my lap at night. We’d look up at the sky and count the stars and she’d find the one she thought was the prettiest to wish upon.”

“What did she wish for?”

“Most times she wouldn’t tell me, because—”

“Then it wouldn’t come true,” Hayden finishes, and if my heart didn’t feel like it was being squeezed in half, I’d smile, because that’s just what Annabelle would say.

“Yeah,” I tell Hayden, clearing my throat which is so tight with emotion I feel like I’m choking. “Sometimes she would tell me she wanted a white horse with wings so she could ride into the stars and touch them,” I tell her, my eyes closing tight at the memory of my sweet baby girl. Her blonde hair brushed until it shines, it falls back across my arm, as she looks up at me. Her beautiful blue eyes wide with happiness, and her voice full of excitement and love. Annabelle was always so full of love. “I don’t have much stock in God. He and I have pretty much parted ways, but I hope he’s letting my Annabelle touch the stars now,” I murmur, not really to Hayden. No. Now, I’m lost in the memories. I feel like I’m bleeding from a wound I can never find and one that never heals. I can’t let them all out. Not now. Especially not in front of Hayden. Annabelle is a part of me that no one will see. I fight to keep away from the pain, from the memories that want to engulf me.

“Maybe she’s the one who decides just where the stars go now,” Hayden whispers, and she pulls my hand up and kisses it. “I know God is watching out for her.”

“How do you know,” I have to stop to catch my breath. “How do you know that?” I ask, and I hear the desperation in my voice. I need her to tell me my daughter is okay now. I need her to make me believe that she lives on…somewhere…anywhere.

“Someone that special? God would have to make sure she is always happy.”

“Special?” I ask, because I know. God! I know my Annabelle was special. But, I need to know why Hayden believes it. Through all of this I’ve received pity…pats on the back from people who were supposed to be my family, but they don’t understand. Their lives went on. They have their kids, their wives, and their life. They’re not lost in the darkness. They aren’t drowning in memories so filled with pain that they consume you. Memories that rot you on the inside, making it hurt to fucking move. They don’t even remember Annabelle unless I come around and only then they do, but only because they see what her loss has done to me.

I need Hayden to believe in Annabelle. Not because she wants me to feel better, but because in her heart she believes what she’s telling me. I need someone to tell me without a doubt that Annabelle lives on…happily.

I feel silent tears falling from my eyes, escaping even though I’m closing my eyes tight, and tighter still as Annabelle’s face floats across my mind. Her bright, laughing voice yelling out, “Daddy!” as I tickle her. Her sweet voice, so distant…I want to grasp it and hold onto it, but I can’t seem to.

“She had to be special to have someone like you love her so deeply. She was a lucky woman,” Hayden says, her small fingers curling back into mine. She gives up on my tattoo, and holds my hand. She lays there, not having any idea that she just ripped my heart open.

She just lays there leaving me hoping with everything left inside of me that she’s right, and my Annabelle is playing with the stars...





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Hayden