My jaw tenses and ticks, my hands fist at my sides. Why did he have to go and say something like that? I turn to vent my real thoughts, how he pushed her away, how he sent her running right into my arms, how he closed off his affection for his only daughter because of who she loved. But Mrs. Grayson whispers, “He’s hurting. Please understand how much pain he’s in.”
“I’ll let that one slide,” I reply, not whispering. “I can’t promise you more than that.” I walk away before I rail on this guy. He may be her father, but he’s out of line. Down the hall, the cops are standing around like we live in the crime capital of the world. Brown’s fingers tap his gun as if that’s going to intimidate me. “Taking a break?” I ask, smirking as I pass.
“Keeping an eye out for criminals. Oh look. Found one.”
“You’ve got jack shit on me. You know why that is?” I stop in front of him and cross my arms over my chest.
“Why is that, rich boy?”
“Because I haven’t done anything wrong.”
Brown stares at me, then leans in, and whispers, “I have a hunch. Wanna hear it?” I don’t reply because I know he’s going to tell me his Scooby-Doo gang hunch anyway. “I think you’re responsible for Ms. Grayson getting shot. What d’ya think of them apples?”
“I think they’re as rotten as the person doling them out.”
Short sausage fingers land flat on my chest and I’m shoved. “You want a piece of me?”
My chest fills with anger. I want to rage on the world and my arms go out. I refuse to take anyone else’s abuse with the day I’ve had, but fortunately for Brown, Langley intervenes. “Stand down, Brown. Now.”
Exhaling through flared nostrils, I pop a smile into place. Just like Firefly’s father, this fucker’s not going to drag me into some fight that will land me behind bars before I have a chance to land an uppercut. “I’m going for fresh air anyway.”
Straightening my shirt, I walk away. My eyes stay on the short fucker until I pass. Our fates will tango no doubt, but I’m here for one reason and one reason only.
My life source is fighting.
For us.
My sweet Firefly.
4
Alexander
I sit outside on a bench, looking at the scuffs on the tips of my black leather shoes. The bottoms are worn from wearing them while riding my bike. It was the only sign that set me apart from the other rich kids where I grew up. Other than Cruise, no one rode motorcycles or had dealt with anything worse than getting a warning after getting busted for smoking, skipping school, sneaking out, smoking weed, getting drunk, or driving over the speed limit. The list could go on.
I have a car. I just don’t drive it much, preferring the freedom I feel on my bike. It wasn’t just my clothes or the bike that set me apart. None of them had lived, breathed, existed simply because their soul mate did. Not even now.
From the moment I saw her, I knew Sara Jane was it for me, an angel in a Catholic school uniform, eating a candy bar. She couldn’t have been more innocent. Except she was. At seventeen, the girl had barely been kissed. It’s like she had been waiting to meet me, as if she had saved herself for me. How a girl who looked that good and smelled even sweeter remained untouched for so long was beyond me.
I would have loved her no matter what. She could have been a prostitute, and I would have only seen her halo. I was a ship navigating a stormy sea, but she called me to her lighthouse, a beacon shining in the dark. It was never about her innocence, or the sins I had inherited. The day I met Sara Jane was about two lives that weren’t meant for only one lifetime, but destined to be together forever.
Maybe that’s what had given me the confidence to break away from the kids I grew up with. I knew I was meant for something bigger than a life of partying and getting high socially.
I was meant for Sara Jane, and she for me.
“Mr. Kingwood?”
Without turning, my gaze rolls to a nurse I recognize, but haven’t spoken to yet. “Yes.”
“You may see your wife now. She’s asleep and could be for hours more. Her body’s been through a lot, but I know you’re probably ready, and if she wakes up, she’ll want to see you there.”
Standing, I casually shove my hands in my pockets. My shoulders feel so tense, they could hold up my ears. “Thank you.” I follow her to a different wing of the hospital. It’s quiet, so quiet I can hear the steady ping of electronic heartbeats as I walk past each room. “I thought she was in ICU.”
“She is. We need to go a little farther.”
She directs me to a locked door with a keypad above the knob for security. After entering a code, she holds open the door. “There’s gel to sanitize your hands on the right and checkin on the left.”
After checking in, I’m led to a smaller hall with only four rooms. No cops stand guard. They must feel the attack was random. This is good for my story, but I can’t help think about Nastas’ partner, Conner Johnson, and if he’s involved.
Lowering my head, I concentrate on the low hum of monitors. You would think they would be disruptive to the peaceful silence of the room, but they aren’t. The sound comforts me.
Her room isn’t large, and the lights are dim, but my sweet angel lies in the bed, her strong heartbeat echoing around the room. Every second, the beat hits a steady peak on the monitor’s screen. An IV is taped to her wrist, so I walk around to the other side and take her limp hand in mine.
Exhaling my anger, her touch soothes me. This is what I’ve needed. For so long. To touch her soft, warm skin again.
The nurse says, “I’ll be right outside at the desk if you need me.”
“Thanks,” I whisper not wanting to wake Sara Jane.
Once we’re alone, I turn her palm up and lean down, studying her lifeline and tracing it with the tip of my finger. It’s too long, too consistent, too defined for her life to be cut short. With my lips against her soft skin, I let go—all the emotions I’ve held back from the moment I saw her on the ground, her life draining from her body. From anger to fear to a life of regrets for dragging her into my hell, I let them flow. My tears pool in her palm before I tilt my head back and stare at the ceiling through watery vision. I won’t be able to return them to the holes from where they leaked in my heart, but I don’t want to risk the chance of her waking up to me at my weakest. I have to be strong. For her, I will be. That’s what she needs from me, especially after her being so strong earlier today.
I won’t show her less. I will be everything she needs. A promise is made through the kiss I place on her wrist, a vow I intend to keep until my last dying day.
*
A nudge sends me to my feet, my fists fly up, my arms protect me. In my sleepy haze, I fight first. Catching my attention, the nurse jumps back. “I’m sorry.” Her voice is so low that I can hear my heart thumping in my chest.
Even in the dimly lit room, when her eyes glide to the right, my gaze follows. Sara Jane. My sleeping beauty. Hospital. “I must have fallen asleep. Sorry.” I lower my arms and try to regulate my breathing.
The nurse whispers, “I’m sorry to wake you, but the doctor will be in shortly to check on her. He asked to speak with you.”