Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Curled up on the plush armchair in my bedroom the next morning, I smiled as Brooks’ face appeared on the screen of my phone. “Well, look at you, Mr. Clean-Shaven. When did that happen?” He’d had a beard since he’d first developed facial hair.

Ruffling his reddish-brown hair, he shrugged. “My girl was complaining about rug burn, so—”

“That’s really enough detail for me. How are you guys?”

“Good, good.” He began talking a mile a minute, his blue eyes alight with pure wonder as he told me about a rainforest tour he’d recently experienced. He’d moved to Kenya only three months ago and he treated every work-free weekend like it was a vacation, exploring everything the place had to offer.

After ten minutes or so, he slitted his eyes as he looked at me. “Is everything all right? You seem tense. And you’re not as chatty as usual.”

I sat up a little straighter, though I kept my legs tucked under me. “I need your input on something. Something that may sound bizarre. Dax and I, well, we once made a pact.” I expanded, relaying the specifics and explaining that Dax wanted me to keep my word.

Brooks’ eyes went wider and wider as I talked. Once I was done, he sat back in his seat and whistled. “Wow.”

“Yeah,” I muttered.

“I can’t believe you never mentioned the pact until now. This is juicy stuff.”

“I wasn’t serious about it, so I didn’t feel a need to share it. But now … I suppose some would say I’m an idiot to even consider this; that I should hold out for something real. Meaningful. Special. But I’ve started to think that my chance at that died with Lake.”

He scratched at his jaw and then paused with a frown, no doubt unused to the lack of a beard. “I suppose, given how untraditional this is, I should tell you it’s a dumb idea. But I married my girl after only dating her for a month, and we’re now in a three-way relationship with another guy. I’m in no position to judge anyone on who they choose to spend the rest of their life with.”

The door creaked open as Gypsy padded inside, twitching the tip of her tail. She was also carrying a white shoelace in her mouth. I was pretty sure it wasn’t usual for cats to “collect” and stash objects, but she made a habit of it.

She also made a habit of leaving mauled corpses of dead rodents in my kitchen. Yes, mauled.

Adjusting the position of the light-purple cushion behind me—which went wonderfully with the room’s silver-and-lavender color scheme—I said to Brooks, “You know me, so I don’t have to explain why I’d consider this a viable option for me. I came up with some pros and cons when I talked about it with Alicia.” I quickly read the entire list. “There should be more cons, really.”

“There is a con you’re not seeing.” Brooks palmed the back of his head. “You say you think that your chance at something special ended with Lake, so I’m guessing you’re feeling that you don’t emotionally need more from Dax than what he’s offering. Maybe you don’t. But that doesn’t mean it will be easy for you to be with someone like him.

“He’s a great guy, Addie. A sincerely trustworthy person. Hell, I trust him one-hundred percent. But that feeling isn’t mutual, and I know it isn’t a slight to me. He’s just a very guarded person.”

That was something I’d noticed when we first met. Dax didn’t show affection—verbally or physically. He didn’t expose his deeper emotions or talk about his feelings. It wasn’t that he was cold-hearted, just reserved.

But it didn’t bother me that he wasn’t the warmest or friendliest of people, because he was authentic. There were too many fake people in this world. Dax didn’t lie about what he thought or felt. He was real.

“When we were kids, all people saw when they looked at him was the step-grandson of death row convict Michael Bale,” Brooks went on. “It made Dax an obvious target, so he had to deal with a lot of shit. Other kids would bully or challenge him. He got into so many fights it was insane. Especially with a particular group of kids—they were sons of cops, judges, and attorneys; the kind of kids who thought they could escape arrest. And they did. The sheriff did jack.”

Five years younger than Dax, I hadn’t been aware of his difficulties back when I was a child. But I’d later heard plenty of stories about it. I’d also heard how Dax’s father, Blake, made those boys pay in other ways, since the law failed his son.

“The press …” Trailing off, Brooks shook his head in disgust. “Whenever Bale ended up in the headlines again, reporters would lurk outside Dax’s house or school. Can you imagine having perfect strangers snap pictures of you and push recorders into your face, asking for comments on what it’s like to have Michael Bale as a granddaddy?

“Making it worse, there were a couple of journalists who pounced on how he was always fighting and getting expelled, implying the violence came from Bale’s influence; that Dax might even follow in his footsteps. The truth was that Dax was just retaliating, but those reporters made him out to be the monster.”

My chest clenched as I pictured a little boy being targeted by kids who tried making him prey; a little boy who’d fought back rather than let those predators break him … only for him to be blamed for it all. Blamed for being bullied. It was fucked up.

“Those same reporters had ‘sources’ who gave them lots of details. It was hard to know who was leaking that stuff, though—it could have been teachers, students, neighbors, friends, family,” said Brooks. “That kind of betrayal, that feeling of not being sure who exactly you could trust … it leaves its mark, you know?”

Of course it would. I knew about betrayal, though not quite to this extent. But I was familiar with the wounds it left.

“All of this changed because, over the years, Dax became someone to fear. Notorious in his own right. People don’t look at him and see Bale anymore, no, they see someone who’d they be suicidal to fuck with. But Dax pulled inward during that personal journey. He trusts maybe a handful of people. There’s only so close you can get to someone like that,” Brooks warned, his tone careful.

I slowly nodded. “I understand that.”

“You think you get it. You think you’ll be okay with it because it didn’t bother you years ago. But that was a fling—you didn’t have to care that it would be shallow and temporary. A marriage isn’t temporary. But with Dax, it could still be shallow.

“He keeps his circle small. You’d be part of it if you married him, Addie, but it wouldn’t automatically follow that you’d be part of that circle emotionally. He has such a defensive internal structure that he’s pretty much wired to keep people out.”

“You’re saying it’s not only subconsciously instinctive for him to hold back, he likely wouldn’t make any conscious attempt to let me close in even the most basic way,” I surmised.

“Yes. He was different with Gracie, but not in the beginning. She had a hell of a time reaching him. That’s just how he is.”

I chewed on my bottom lip. “It’s nothing close to a surprise that he’d have such self-defense mechanisms, given all that went on in his life. To have so much negative attention centered on you growing up when you’re developing a sense of self …”

“Caelan and Drey had to deal with some of that crap when kids, too. But Dax had it the worst.”

“The media attention eased after Bale was executed,” I remembered.

“Yeah. That led to the family finally getting some peace. And, as I said before, people don’t associate Dax with Bale anymore. Same goes for his brothers. Drey’s talent on the field is admired far and wide. People from all over to get a tattoo from Caelan. But there are times when their connection to Bale leaks onto their lives again in minor ways.

“You may have to deal with that, too, Addie. Not to the same extent. Dax is so much of a powerful presence nowadays that people don’t harass him for fear of repercussions, though he still hears from journalists occasionally. I think you could handle all that. My question is whether you’ll think it’s worth it later on down the line if you feel like an outsider in your own marriage.”

“So you don’t think I should marry him?”

“I never said that,” Brooks quickly clarified. “I just want your eyes to be wide open. Would he make a good husband? Objectively speaking, yeah, I think he would. They don’t come more loyal than Dax. He’s a man who’d do his best to ensure nothing negative touched his woman. He would never purposely put her through any pain. But he also might never give her all of himself. I say might, because things could play out differently for you.”

“But you don’t think they will.”

He winced. “Much as I hate to say it, no. You may truly be okay with there never being any love between you. But I would think you’ll want a warm companionship, if nothing else. You might struggle to get it. It’s something you should be prepared for.”

“Okay.” I supposed I should feel put-off by all Brooks said. Even a year ago, I would have been. But as Alicia had speculated, it could be easier to build something with someone who lacked the power to hurt you. Dax didn’t have it, and he’d never seek it.

Would I want the warm companionship Brooks spoke of? Yes. I’d probably have to be patient in my attempts to get it, though. “Any more cons?”

“Yes. You’ll have to accept that he won’t change in how he deals with issues. The cops failed him when he was growing up. He couldn’t rely on the justice system, so he had to seek justice himself. He’s used to handling … personal matters, and doing it swiftly and cruelly.”

“You mean he’s more likely to beat someone to a pulp than call the sheriff and attempt to have them arrested.” I already knew that.

“You have to be able to take him as he is.”

“I’d be a hypocrite if I held it against him. My dad is just as bad for disregarding the law when it suits him.”

“That’s true enough.” Brooks poked his tongue into the inside of his cheek. “Do you mind if I call Dax and talk to him? I’d like to feel him out; be sure he knows what he’s doing. Or would you rather he wasn’t aware you called me?”

“As long as you don’t go into specifics about our talk, I have no issues with you letting him know I called you.”

He laid a hand over his heart. “I won’t repeat any of what you said, just as I won’t relay to you any of what he says when I talk to him.” He paused. “You know, to help balance things out, I have a pro that isn’t on your list.”

I felt my brows lift. “You do?”

“Yes, and I’m surprised you haven’t already thought of it. Unless you aren’t aware …?”

“Aware of what?”

“Dax owns a publishing company. Anyone who married him could probably get their hands on some free books.”

The addictive reader in me perked up. “He does? How awesome.” And definitely worth writing down.

Brooks tipped his head to the side. “Why do I get the feeling that appeals to you more than pretty much anything on that pro list of yours other than kids?”

I gave an innocent shrug. “No idea. Why do you?”

He only smiled.

∞∞∞

Parking in the lot outside Chrome Canvas Bara few days later, I turned off the engine. Often frequented by bikers due to it being attached to CCC—or Chrome Canvas Cycles, to be precise, which manufactured custom motorcycles—it wasn’t an obvious place to meet for coffee. But it was considered a “gem” by those caffeine-lovers who discovered it, because it couldn’t be denied that they made real good coffee. As such, it wasn’t a huge surprise that Ollie asked me to meet him here when he texted me last night.

He first came upon the bar after buying a motorcycle from CCC. Yeah, though he worked for our dad’s massive company, o-Verve, Ollie wasn’t stuffy like many of his colleagues. He didn’t dress in suits and shiny shoes outside of work. He was more a dark tee, jeans, and boots kind of guy.

Having hopped out of my car, I locked it with the key fob and began striding toward the bar, highly curious as to why Ollie had requested we meet—he’d been exceptionally vague in his texts. A few people stood outside CCC’s rolled-up bay door, so I couldn’t see much of the interior. But I did make out a couple of bikes set on raised lifts.

Customers allegedly came from all over. Three generations of Armstrongs—close friends of the Mercier family—worked there. I knew the name of the youngest Armstrong, Maverick, purely because he was often photographed with Drey. Maverick’s aunt, Sarah, apparently ran the bar these days.

Despite the Armstrongs’ link to Dax, I doubted I’d bump into him here. I hadn’t seen, heard from, or contacted him since our talk at his office. I’d almost emailed him a time or two, whenever a question popped into my head that I wished I’d asked. But I didn’t want to hear from Mr. Persuasive—he could too easily influence my decisions; could too easily sway me to his way of thinking. Whether or not I stood at an altar with him needed to be my decision. At the moment, I still wasn’t sure what to do.

Reaching the bar, I pushed open the door. The scents of coffee, wood, beer, and spicy food washed over me as I entered. Two very pretty and clearly related brunettes—one older, one younger—stood behind the bar. A “BEER” sign hung over it, a bright neon-blue.

The redbrick walls sported pictures of framed photos of bikes. Said walls were also lined with shelves on which bike parts, helmets, and accessories sat, all for sale. It was only then that I remembered the bar doubled as a store.

The lighting was dim due to the tinted windows, but I easily spotted Ollie. Other patrons were scattered around—some sat at barstools, others at heavy tables. A few played pool while another cursed at a gambling machine.

Smiling at my brother, I crossed straight to him. Five and a half years my junior, he was tall, broad, and dark-eyed. He also very closely resembled Dane, though there were also hints of our deceased great-uncle there who’d died before we were born—we’d only ever seen pictures of Hugh, but Ollie definitely had the guy’s smile.

Right then, he stood and flashed that crooked smile at me. “Hey.”

I hugged him tight. “Hey yourself.”

He gestured at one of the two mugs on the heavy table. “A caramel latte awaits you.”

“Thanks.” As he returned to his seat, I claimed the one opposite and asked, “How’s everything at work?”

“Fine. I still have zero idea how no one at the company has tried poisoning Dad yet. He can be a total asshole to the staff sometimes. Though not unnecessarily. At least not all the time. He just doesn’t handle human error or inefficiency well. As you know, of course.”

I felt my eyes narrow. It was not like Ollie to ramble. Or drum his fingers restlessly on his thigh. Or bite into the inside of his cheek.

I realized, with a start, that he was nervous. It had to be a first. I’d never seen him nervous before. He was fearless in just about everything he did.

He cleared his throat. “How are things with Sapphire Glade?”

“All good. But I don’t think you asked me to meet you so we could have an idle chat. Is something wrong?” My chest tightened as my imagination began going wild.

He lifted a hand. “No, not wrong. I have some news. Good news. For me, anyway.” He rested his lower arms on the table. “I wanted to tell you while we were alone.”

“Okay,” I said, wary.

Ollie drew in a long breath. “Marleigh’s pregnant,” he blurted.

I felt my brows hit my hairline. “Really?” Thrilled, I let out a low but very girly squeal as I shot out of my seat and rounded the table. I hugged him again, probably squeezing a little too tight. “That’s amazing news.”

He eyed me carefully as I drew back. “You’re … you’re okay about it?”

I frowned. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, I knew it would make you think of …” He trailed off, clamping his lips shut.

As understanding dawned on me, a flood of affection washed through my system even as hurt gripped my gut. “Aw, Ollie.” I dragged my chair over to his and sat back down. “I won’t lie, the pain of my miscarriage will never go away. But it shouldn’t, should it? Something like that should leave its mark on you. But that doesn’t mean I’m not elated that you and Marleigh are having a baby.”

“It’s not that I thought you wouldn’t be pleased for us,” he told me. “I just thought it might hurt you on some level; that it’d be hard for you. I mean, you organize every kind of event imaginable, but never baby showers.”

“Not because I’d find it too difficult to be around pregnant women. My clients deserve for me to concentrate on them and their vision, not for me to be distracted by my personal loss. It isn’t fair to them. It’s the same reason why a newly divorced event organizer I know often refers soon-to-be wedded couples to Sapphire Glade—she worries her personal feelings would leak through and ruin their big day.”

Pausing, I rested a hand on his arm. “Trust me, I am delighted for you and Marleigh. I am delighted that I’ll soon have a niece or nephew. Please don’t doubt that. Please don’t think I’d resent you.”

His brows pulled together. “I never thought you’d feel any resentment, Addie—that’s not who you are. I just worried our good news would remind you of what you lost and that you’d find this difficult. Especially since it was the anniversary of your miscarriage only a few weeks back, so I know that the memories and hurt are kind of fresh right now.”

“Let’s face it, Ollie, it would be strange if your news didn’t make me think of the baby I lost. Like I said before, something like that should mark you. But that doesn’t detract from how positively ecstatic I am for you.”

His lips curled. “Marleigh will be relieved. She was so worried this would wreck you.”

I gently squeezed his hand. “I love you both for worrying, and I appreciate that you’d tell me in private in case it hit me hard. But I’m really fine. How far along is she?”

“Almost three months. We didn’t realize at first—she had no morning sickness, and her periods didn’t stop. But when she was craving coal, we knew something was going on.”

I almost did a double-take. “Coal?”

“Don’t worry, she didn’t eat any.”

Reaching across the table, I grabbed my untouched latte and then began peppering him with questions—how was she doing? Had they had a prenatal scan yet? Did they know the gender of the baby? And so on and so on.

“Jeez, sis, take a breath,” he said with a chuckle.

“I can’t, I’m excited. Who else knows?”

“No one. You’re the first to hear of it.”

“Mom and Dad are gonna be psyched. Everyone will be.”

Humor lit Ollie’s eyes. “Not sure ‘psyched’ is a state Dad is familiar with, but he’ll definitely be pleased for me and Marleigh.”

“That he will.”

“I know the original plan was for she and I to get married next year, but I suggested to her that maybe we should do it before the baby is born. She doesn’t want to, though. She likes the idea of the baby being at the wedding, so …”

“Aw, they’ll make the cutest bridesmaid or page boy.” Seeing the pride and elation in his eyes, I couldn’t help but think … This could be me soon. If I said yes to Dax, I could be feeling what he’s feeling right now.

“Listen, don’t say anything about the pregnancy to anyone.”

“I had no intention of doing,” I assured him. “It’s your news to share. I’d never take that from you.”

His mouth curved. “Thanks.” He took a swig of his coffee. “Before I forget to ask, how’s Alicia doing?”

“Okay. She still won’t talk about what happened with Dario except to say that they’re definitely a thing of the past.”

Ollie grunted. “I never liked him.”

“Truthfully, neither did I.” I hadn’t anything to her until recently, respecting that he was her choice. “I felt she could do better.”

“She can,” he firmly declared. “And hopefully, she will.”

“Hopefully.”

We talked about this and that as we finished our coffees. Once done, we headed outside together, said our goodbyes, and parted ways. As I was in my car clicking on my seatbelt, I heard the rumbling of his bike engine as he whizzed by me.

Only then did I let my smile drop. I hadn’t lied to Ollie. I was delighted for him and Marleigh. Delighted. I didn’t feel bitter, and my loss didn’t—couldn’t—take away from the happiness I felt for them. But was hearing someone talk about a pregnancy something of a trigger? Yes. That wasn’t something I could avoid.

Every time it happened, I’d remember how happy I’d been on seeing the word “pregnant” on the test stick. I’d remember the first prenatal scan and how frantic the baby’s heartbeat had sounded. I’d remember the excited reactions of those around me when I’d told them my news.

And I’d remember the incident that had resulted in the miscarriage. Remember the screech of tires, the crunch of metal, the cries of pain, the smell of blood, the civilians who’d tried to help not only me but the passengers from the other cars.

Finally, I’d remember the doctor’s grim expression when he’d confirmed what I’d already known deep down inside before I’d even arrived at the hospital.

A sound snapped me out of the past. Knuckles wrapping on my window, I realized.

I looked up. And there was one of Dax’s brothers, Caelan, staring down at me. I cleared my expression fast, not wanting him to read my emotions. Only then did I press the button to electronically lower the window.

Planting his hands on the car, he bent and poked his head inside, bold as you please, his gaze flitting all over my face. “You all right, Addison?” A careful but loaded question.

I gave him an easy smile. “Yup. Fine.” I’d first met him back when I had my little fling with Dax. He was just as much an alpha as his older brother, not to mention a walking advertisement for sex.

The brothers looked alike in some ways, but Caelan didn’t have Dax’s mismatched eyes—his were a rich brown, and he also had the powerful build of a cage fighter. Probably because he used to be a cage fighter.

Caelan’s eyelids drooped a little. “You didn’t look fine a moment ago.”

“I just got lost in thought, that’s all,” I said with an airy shrug.

His gaze—too perceptive, too knowing—remained locked with mine. I didn’t let my smile falter or allow what I felt to bleed onto my face. But it didn’t appear to be making much of a difference.

He lifted a doubtful brow. “I look like someone you can bullshit?”

“Totally.”

His mouth twitched, but he quickly wiped the almost-smile from his face.

“Caelan?” a voice called out.

Tracking it, I saw an unfamiliar male standing a few car-spaces away.

Caelan inched his head out of my window and lifted it.

“You got a minute?” the stranger asked. “It’s important.”

A rough sigh. “Give me a sec.” Caelan once more inserted his big, nosy head into my car and caught my gaze, his eyes searching mine. “You sure you’re okay to drive right now?”

“Yes,” I replied, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel. “As I said before, I’m fine. And I really have to get going.”

He let out a resigned sigh that was laced with irritation. “All right.”

I forced another easy smile. “Take care.”

“You too, Addison.” He ducked his head out of the car, straightened, gave the hood a light slap, and then stepped back. “Drive safely. And welcome to the family.” With that, he waltzed away.

I felt my jaw drop. He knew. He knew about the pact.

I supposed I shouldn’t be surprised. He and Dax were very close, so they were bound to share such things with each other. After all, I’d told my sister about it—at this point, she felt certain I’d go through with the wedding. Evidently, so did Caelan.

Driving off, I wondered how they could be so sure while I kept bouncing back and forth in my head from Okay, I’ll marry him to I’d be nuts to do this.

Even though the final preparations for an upcoming wedding I’d organized—one that would be taking place in just two days—consumed a lot of my attention, I found myself constantly chewing on Dax’s proposal and all that Brooks had advised me to consider.

Could I marry someone who took justice into his own hands and who broke the law when it suited him? Well … I certainly wouldn’t blame Dax for it. What had the law ever done for him? Nothing. But then, I supposed I wasn’t the sort to be fazed by that when I’d been raised by a man who disregarded the law on occasion. So yes, I could handle it.

Could I marry someone whose connection to a deceased death row convict would potentially touch my life at times? I’d be an absolute bitch if I held it against Dax, which I didn’t. It wasn’t his choice. Wasn’t something he had any control over. So yes, I could handle that, too.

Could I marry someone who I might never get emotionally close to? As it happened … though it might be incredibly sad, I actually could. This man wouldn’t be able to hurt me, because he didn’t have that power over my emotions. And if anything tragic were to happen to him, I would of course find it absolutely awful, but it wouldn’t destroy me.

They said it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. But when you’d lost again and again and again, you started to wonder if maybe that was pure bullshit.

But that was the thing … I didn’t like that I’d emotionally thrown in the towel. I didn’t like that I could so easily turn my back on searching for something I’d once treasured the thought of finding. It seemed wrong. Unnatural. Sad.

As such, I was still struggling to make a decision on what to do. Though, if I was honest, the more I thought about it the more I leaned toward saying yes. So maybe Caelan and Alicia were right to be confident I’d follow through with my promise to Dax. Maybe.