Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Sagan

The snowy landscape on the other side of this window shows the path I took to get here after I jumped down from the magnolia tree.

I curse myself for not beating a path to Esme sooner.

How could I let her get like this? I’m just as guilty as the rest of them.

“Shit.” I’m angry at how badly I want her.

I’m in so deep I can’t turn back. I have to tell her the truth.

“I know I’m a handful. If you need to go…”

“I lied, Esme.”

She pauses and then asks, “To get Frye to let you in? I figured out that much.” She has a smile in her voice. How I would love to turn around and bask in that smile, but I’m undeserving of it.

“That, and I lied to my parole officer. He thinks I’ve been at work, but I’ve been in that tree,” I say, pointing across the expansive lawn toward the stone fence. “In that magnolia tree, about a hundred feet up, watching this window for signs of life.”

Another pause follows, and then she says, “Why?”

“You’re not going to like it.”

“Let me decide if I like it or not.”

Here we go. If I go down in flames, I might as well be a forest fire. “I paid someone on the dark web to track your flight to Switzerland and all your receipts. I saw when your plane landed. I knew when you checked into the spa and went out for coffee. Every time you paid for a driver, I got a notification. But then, you disappeared about two weeks ago. You weren’t on any airline manifest between there and here. Nothing at all. You vanished, and I lost my goddamn mind.”

“I came home early,” she says softly. She senses my confusion and supplies, “Private jet. Friend of the family. It was a snap decision. Can we go back to the part where you mentioned a parole officer?”

Fuck me, I can’t look her in the eye. But I’ve done enough work on myself after all this time that I don’t sugarcoat it. I wouldn’t want to. Some prisoners fool their parole boards with proclamations about having found god. Me, I found Thich Nhat Hanh, meditation, and Zen Buddhism. I found myself, and then I let myself go. Denial of the ego. Negare Ego was the first thing I had tattooed on my chest when I got out of prison.

No sense in having any pride anyway. Esme will be googling this case as soon as I leave. Guess I’ll never leave, then.

“I was out with my drinking buddies one night on leave. I knew I should never drink at a seedy civilian bar. I always went looking for someone to get cocky with me. I was bored and mean and drunk. Eventually, I spotted my mark. This guy was hitting on a young woman who was denying him at every turn. She got up and went to the bathroom, and this guy had the gall to follow her. He waited outside the women’s room door. I got distracted for a minute, and when I looked again, he was gone. I marched over to where he was, and I found the door to the women’s restroom blocked from the inside.

“A terrible feeling came over me. I kicked open the door. The guy had been blocking her exit with his body, and he tumbled forward, knocking her down in the process. There was a scuffle, and she ran. She was OK. I should have de-escalated the situation. But by that time, I had lost every bit of sense my mother tried to give me. I should have tried to calm down. Instead, I pulled him to his feet and shoved him outside. One thing led to another, and it turned into a brawl. My entire squad descended on us, as did the guy’s friends. He hit me, and I hit back. That man hit the concrete, fractured his skull, and later died in the hospital. I did 12 years at the state penitentiary for voluntary manslaughter and was dishonorably discharged from the army.”

I wait for the gasp that never comes. I wait for Esme to tell me to get the hell out of her room, out of her house, how she never wants to see me again.

“That’s a long time,” is all she says, calm like she’s been cornered by a grizzly. But she hasn’t. All she has to do is tell me to leave, and I’ll go. I’ll hate it. I’ll be miserable, but I’ll do whatever she wants me to do.

“After everything the army did for me, paying for me to go to nursing school, making me an officer in the 75th. And I fucked it all up because I can’t control my alcohol. A man died because of me. Because I lost my temper. I have to live with that every day. And no matter how hard I try, I’m still choosing darkness. I shouldn’t have tracked you the way I did. I thought I was over my shit, but look at what I did to get to you, Esme.”

When she doesn’t say anything for a long time, I turn to Esme, barely able to meet her eyes.

“I’m glad you did what you did to get to me.”

I meet her gaze finally. She’s staring at me with tears in her eyes.

“It was the nicest thing anyone ever did for me.”

“Nice?” I grunt.

Esme flinches, and I immediately feel like shit.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I barely know what day it is. I’m sorry you had to see me like that. I’ve never allowed a visitor to see me looking like completely dog shit before…I…”

And that’s about enough of that.

I waste no more time, locking my arms around her, quieting her words with my mouth.

Her shocked gasp is followed by a firmer kiss, my lips pressed against hers hungrily, my hands holding her steady against my chest.

Esme’s body molds to me, her tension melting away under my unrelenting kiss.

I take more. I take everything with my kiss, letting her know in no uncertain terms that she’s mine. That there’s nothing to be ashamed about.

Fuck denying my ego. She’s mine. All mine.

When Esme pulls away, I kiss the salty tears from her wet cheeks.

“None of that. No crying. You didn’t do this to yourself, and I never want to hear you say that again.”

Her breath is ragged, and her plump little breasts press against my chest as she struggles to get the words out. She’s fighting tears. “You came here to help me. I don’t know how you knew, but you came, and you helped me, and you saw me like that.” She turns her face away and gestures to the bed, remembering how I found her. “It’s so humiliating.”

“Stop it,” I say, cupping her face and kissing her again, trying to get my point across.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of. You’re Esme Fucking Bryant. I’m nothing. But I couldn’t stand not knowing if you were OK. I had to find out. I had to see you.”

She closes her eyes and just breathes. “You have no idea what that feels like … to know someone gives a shit when I’m at my worst.”

I cover her mouth with mine once more, this time slowly, tenderly, coaxing her mouth open.

Esme softly moans at the sensual slide of my tongue against hers. She tastes tea and mint from her toothpaste. Our breath mingles, hot and ragged, with too many emotions spilling over.

“And you’re not nothing, Sagan. You saw me on one of my best days. And now you’ve seen me at rock bottom. Trust me when I say being with me is not a walk in the park. I’ve been told I’m quite needy…restless…crazy…listless…helpless. The list goes on. I drive people away. You have no idea what I’m capable of…or not capable of.”

I slide my hands up over her back, giving her bony shoulders a gentle massage before cupping her face.

“I don’t care what anyone says. You’re here. I’m here. And I’m not leaving.”