Chapter Seven

Priest

" Y ou gotta stop sitting outside her office, brother," Memphis says into the phone. "Go home. Get some sleep. Go to practice."

"You missed practice yesterday too," I remind him.

"Yeah, well, that was yesterday. It's a brand-new day. Have you been home at all?"

"She is my home," I growl.

Memphis sighs. "Yeah? You think a judge is going to buy that when you get hauled in front of one for stalking?"

"I already told you motherfuckers, I'm not stalking her," I mutter, staring at the chrome and glass building like I can see her through the damn walls. "I'm just keeping an eye on her."

"Right, since she won't let you close," he says, the same shit I told him, Riley, Cash, and Dalton Grady yesterday. Don't think they believed me but fuck it. I don't really care. My home is where she is. It's where my daughter is. And since I'm not allowed to be with them, this is the best I can do.

I know how it looks. I realize how fucked up it sounds. But I just spent years away from her without my consent. Now, she's right here again. I can't just drive away and pretend that everything is fine. It's not fucking fine. I haven't been living for six years. I've been in purgatory. The gates are finally open. I'm finally free. Heaven is right fucking there.

And I'm supposed to just…what? Turn around and take a goddamn seat?

No. Hell no. I'll sit in this fucking parking lot or outside her house until she's ready to talk. At least then, I'm there if she needs me. Because I fucking wasn't for so long. And there's not a goddamn thing I can do about it.

I can't go back and undo it. I can't erase the years she spent raising Brinley alone. The motherfucker who destroyed our lives is dead. I'm six weeks too late to rip his fucking throat out. I can't even piss on his rotting corpse because it's six feet under. All I can do is what I'm doing. Memphis doesn't have to get that. All he needs to do is leave me the fuck alone and let me do it.

"This isn't healthy, brother," he says.

"Yeah, well, neither is opening a goddamn titty bar because it's what your dead best friend wanted to do," I snap. "But you don't see me giving you shit about your shit, now do you?"

"Jesus Christ," he mutters. "You talk to him. I fucking quit."

"Hey, Priest. What's up?"

"Fuck. Not you, too," I groan, cursing up at the ceiling of the SUV when I hear Brantley Hill's voice. He's the damn record exec who signed me to Winter's tour. Except…he's not like any record exec I've ever fucking met. His life is as big a mess as mine. "What do you want?"

"Just checking in, man," he says. "You good?"

"I'm fucking fine," I snap.

"Yeah? Is that why Memphis is stomping around here, cursing you out? Because you're fine?"

I pinch the bridge of my nose. "You're married, right?"

"Yeah. Isla," he says quietly.

"If Isla never wanted to see you again, what would you do?"

"Lose my fucking mind," he growls without hesitation.

"Would you let her go?"

"Fuck no. I'd tear the fucking city apart to keep her in my life."

"Then you understand my predicament exactly. I'm doing what I have to do to make sure I don't lose my wife and baby girl for good," I growl. "She won't talk to me. She doesn't want to see me. I can't kill the prick who ruined our lives because I'm pretty goddamn certain he's already dead. All I can do is what I'm doing. So kindly fuck off and let me do it."

Brant is silent for a moment before he huffs a laugh. "Jesus Christ, man. Just don't fucking get yourself tossed in jail. Memphis already had to bail Dalton out yesterday."

"Don't plan on going to jail." I hang up on him, tossing my phone into the center console. Jesus. I appreciate the fuck out of them for caring, but I almost miss when I had no goddamn friends. At least then, the fuckers weren't in my business, stressing me out.

I'm still staring up at the ceiling when someone taps on the passenger side window. I jump, startled, and whip my head to the side…only to come face to face with Mina.

Fuck.

I'm busted.

She opens the door, climbing inside with a completely neutral expression painted across her gorgeous face. Even then, she looks exhausted, like she still isn't sleeping.

"Mina, I…" I grasp for an explanation as to why I'm sitting in her parking lot, but there isn't one that isn't likely to have her calling to cops. "I can explain."

"Take me home," she says, closing the door while I'm still trying to come up with something that doesn't make me sound like a fucking creep.

"What?"

"Take me home," she repeats. "I assume you know where that is since I saw you out there last night." She meets my gaze, hers level. "And again this morning."

"Fuck. I can explain."

"Just drive, McGregor."

I jerk my head in a nod…and I fucking drive.

She doesn't say a word for the first ten minutes. She just sits beside me, staring out at the city as it passes in blurs. A thousand questions battle on the tip of my tongue, threatening to burst forth, but I fight them back, trying like hell to wait her out. She has that look about her, like she's thinking hard about something.

It was always best to let her work it out for herself. Mina's been stubborn since the day I met her. If pushed, she comes out swinging. She's fiery and passionate and so goddamn fierce she makes my cock ache. But right now, I don't need her feeling like she has to fight me. I need her to bend a little. I need her to want to let me back in, even an inch.

I fucked up in her office yesterday. I was so goddamn desperate to touch her again, to have my hands on her… I knew she wasn't in any damn state for the shit we were doing. But she was begging, and I couldn't tell her no. I let greed get the best of me. With her, it always fucking gets the best of me.

She's the one thing I was never supposed to want. The one thing I wasn't supposed to take for myself. But I was so fucking greedy to touch, to taste…to make her mine. So I did. Maybe I fucked up her life. Maybe I destroyed us both. I don't know. But even now, I don't regret it. I'll never regret her.

I regret like hell that I broke her yesterday, though. She needed me to tell her no. She needed me to be strong and put her first. I have a feeling she's been beating herself up ever since she came apart in my arms. She feels like she betrayed herself. And I let that shit happen.

I can't do it again. When she's with me next, it can't be when she feels like she's splintering apart. It can't be because she wants to hide from the pain. She needs it to be like it was before all this shit happened—when she knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that my heart is hers. That it will fucking always be hers.

"Riley says they call you Priest," she blurts, shattering the silence between us. "Why?"

I lick my lips, trying to work moisture back into my mouth. I don't know if this means she believes me…but fuck, hope is a funny thing. It wells in my chest, beating like a second heartbeat. Overpowering it. Eclipsing everything.

Whatever she wants to know, I'll tell her. I'll slice my veins open and bleed for her, every goddamn sin I've committed trying to get back to her, every fucking crime I've committed. I'll tell her everything.

"They didn't know what to call me at the hospital," I rasp. "But they knew I was found in a trap house. They assumed I was an addict or had something to do with the cartels. So, they said I was given a second chance at life. I was born again from the sins of my past like a holy man. So…Priest."

"Your name is Grayson McGregor," she whispers. "You were born on August 11th in Knoxville. Your 28th birthday was two months ago."

"I may have been born in August, but that date tattooed on your wrist is the day my life began," I rasp, my fucking chest burning. "It's the day we met."

She nods, still not looking at me. "How long were you in the hospital?"

"Seventeen days before I regained consciousness. Two months before I was well enough to leave." I pause. "Another three before I had the courage to walk out of there."

She looks at me this time, her eyes wide. "You stayed?"

"Didn't have anywhere to go." I shrug, glancing out at the road as shame whispers through me. "Didn't know a goddamn thing about myself, my life, or what I'd done…who was looking for me."

"You mean…?"

I jerk my chin in a nod, rolling through a stop sign. "They nearly killed me. I didn't know if they planned to finish the job. Back then, I wasn't in any condition to stop them if they tried. So, I stayed."

"What made you decide to leave?"

"You," I whisper, my throat raw.

"Explain." I hate how her voice shakes on that single word, like she's afraid of voicing it, afraid of what fresh hell it might unleash.

"I had brutal nightmares back then. Still do sometimes," I admit, not willing to lie to her now. If she wants the truth, I owe it to her, as ugly as it is. "But in between the nightmares, I'd fall into this peaceful sleep. I saw you. Every damn night, you were in my dreams." I swallow hard. "It's like you were trying to comfort me and lead me back to you even through the goddamn wall standing between me and my memories."

She makes a soft noise beside me, her shoulders shaking. "I dreamed about you too," she whispers. "Every damn night, Grayson. Sometimes, I hated it."

"Not as much as I hate myself for forgetting you." I take the turn onto her road, my hands tight around the steering wheel. "Christ, Mina. You were my goddamn world, and I forgot you." I shake my head, a broken groan tumbling from my lips. "I won't blame you if you never forgive me for that. Honestly, I'm not sure how the fuck I'm supposed to forgive myself."

"Don't," she whispers, reaching across the console. Her hand lands against my arm. I know she can feel how tight it is beneath her palm, but I can't relax. Not when she's so close. Not when there's so much goddamn pain between us. "Please don't go there, Grayson."

I don't answer as I pull into the driveway and kill the engine. For a long moment, we sit in silence. And then I sigh. "I don't know how I'm not supposed to go there, Mina. You spent six fucking years thinking I was dead. You raised our daughter alone." I turn to face her, see the tears slipping down her cheeks, and my fucking heart cracks all over again. I reach for her, cupping her cheek. "You were right here the whole time, drowning. And I thought you were a figment of my imagination." My voice breaks. "I'm so goddamn sorry, sweetheart. I'm so sorry."

"You didn't know," she whispers, grasping my wrist. "How were you supposed to know?"

"I should have." I brush my thumb along her bottom lip. "How do you forget what we had? How do you forget the reason your heart beats?" I shake my head, at a loss. "Jesus, Mina. How do you forget someone like you?"

"You didn't forget, Grayson," she says, unlatching her belt. She shakes my hand off, balancing on her knees as she shimmies across the console, forcing herself onto my lap.

I wrap my arms around her, burying my face in her hair as she burrows into me, clinging like she's trying to hold me together.

"You didn't forget," she says again, her voice fierce. "I was still in there. Even when you lost yourself, you still clung to me. Maybe your mind didn't remember the details, but your heart knew."

"Jesus," I rasp, my arms shaking around her.

"You may have thought I was a figment of your imagination, but you stayed faithful to me, didn't you?"

"Every goddamn day," I growl, tipping her head back until her eyes meet mine. If she believes nothing else I've said, I need her to know this much is true. There was never anyone else. So long as she was in my head and in my heart, there was never going to be anyone else. Didn't matter if I thought she was real or just something I made up, I couldn't fucking think about someone else's hands on me when hers felt so goddamn real.

"There was never a question of that, baby. I wasn't sure if you were real or something I made up, but I couldn't…" I pause, searching for the words to explain. But she places her fingers over my lips.

"I know." Her lips quirk into a timid smile. "It was the same for me. Everyone said you were dead. But I still couldn't move on. To me, you were always the only one." She shrugs, her gaze dropping from mine. "You would have been the only one for the rest of my life."

"Jesus," I whisper, dragging her up against my chest as my heart threatens to explode out of it. I bury my face in her hair again, just…breathing. Christ, it feels like the first time I've taken a breath in years.

We sit just like that for a long time, just holding each other, her presence seeping into my pores, into all those raw, ravaged places. Just being here like this, holding her like this, this is healing. Never fucking thought I'd have it. I don't even know what it means. But I'm a hopeful motherfucker. And I'm a patient one too. I meant what I told her yesterday. I'll wait forever if that's what it takes.

After six years in hell, a lifetime being allowed to exist in the same city as her feels a little like standing at the gates of heaven. If that's all I ever get, I'll take it. I'll love her from afar just as fiercely, just as intensely, as I do with her in my arms right now.

Her fingers brush across the scars on the backs of my hands, and she pulls back, her eyes seeking mine. Her expression is somber, full of pain. "I want to ask…" She bites her lip. "What happened to you, Grayson? What did they do to you?"

Well, fuck. I said I'd tell her anything she wanted to know. But I wasn't prepared for this question. Some things, she's better off never knowing. But I can't lie to her. Even now, I can't.

"I don't remember a lot of it," I mutter, a harsh laugh rolling from my lips. "Thought maybe those memories would come back with the rest of them, but I guess God has a little mercy because they didn't. I remember…" I think back, trying to put it into order. I've only ever had flashes, brief glimpses of pain and agony. "I remember being run off the road. The car flipped. When I woke up, I was being dragged across the gravel by my legs. My arm was broken. I think my ribs were too. Everything hurt like hell."

She trembles in my arms, tears slipping down her cheeks.

"I passed out before they got me wherever they were going. When I woke up again, I was tied to a chair." I stroke her back when she whimpers. "I don't know how many people beat the hell out of me. Everyone who came through the house, maybe? Used whatever they felt like using." I found out later that the two men who ran me off the road were supposed to kill me once they got me out of the city, but I was good business. They kept me alive for the entertainment of their clients. If people hadn't been willing to pay for their turn torturing me, I'd be dead now. I don't tell her that, though. Some things she doesn't ever need to know. That's one of them.

"They…burned you?" she asked.

"There isn't much they didn't do, sweetheart," I murmur.

She whimpers, a sob catching in her throat.

"Shh, Mina. Shh." I cup her cheek, resting my forehead against hers. "I'm right here. Alive. The rest of it doesn't fucking matter, baby."

"It matters to me." She chokes out a breath, her green eyes swimming with grief and pain. "God, Grayson. I was so damn mean to you. And you've already been through s-so much." Her bottom lip quivers. "I said a-awful things."

"Hey." I cover her mouth with a gentle hand, shaking my head. "I wasn't the only one who went through it, baby. You went through the same six years. You were pregnant alone. You went through labor alone. You've been raising our little girl alone. And you did it thinking I was dead."

"Oh god." Her eyes fly open wide, burning with guilt. "We had a f-funeral. We buried you," she says. "Everyone thinks you're dead b-because of me!"

"Baby." I pull her up against my chest, tucking her head beneath my chin. "You hear that? Hear my heart beating against your ear? That means I'm alive, and you're in my arms. The rest of it doesn't fucking matter. We'll figure it out. What matters now is this. It's us and our daughter. It's healing." I exhale a breath. "I mean…if that's what you want."

"I want to see, Grayson," she whispers.

"You want to see?"

"You," she clarifies. "I want to see you."

"You can see me anytime, baby. I'm not going anywhere unless you kick me to the goddamn curb."

"No, you don't understand." She huffs out a breath, untangling herself from my arms. The look in her eye when she meets my gaze… Jesus Christ, I know that look. It's hellfire and lace, all wrapped up in one beautiful package. It's Mina, fierce and burning hot as the surface of the damn sun. Nothing stands in her way when she's wearing that expression, certainly not a motherfucker like me.

My goddamn heart lodges in my throat, my balls cinching up tight as she grabs my hand, clawing for the door handle. Before I can even say a word, she's practically leaping from the SUV, dragging me out behind her.

And like always, I follow. Straight to heaven or straight to hell, I follow.