Devil's Despair Box Set: Books 1-3 (66 page)

As I walk into the living room expecting to find a broken man, I see the pillow and blanket next to the wall where I left him last night. He’s not there. I check the window and notice his Land Rover isn’t parked where Travis had parked it last night before they made their hurried exit.

Hayden’s not in the kitchen or the bathroom. He’s gone.

I grab my phone from the charger and call his number, but I get no answer. I send a quick text asking where he went and it’s returned immediately with,
Need some space. Thank you for last night. I’ll call you soon.

Time alone and space is never a good idea for anyone who’s processing devastating news. I start to tell him this, but think better of it and turn to dress instead.

After eating, showering, and straightening the mess from last night, I get in my beat-up car, which hasn’t been driven in months, and head to where I know, even before going, I shouldn’t.

The door answers and he, looking broken and lost, answers right away.

“Can I come in?” I say with a snap I should’ve reeled in. Too late.

“Lacey.” Brian moves to the side and lets me pass without saying anything. A quick check of the house tells me he’s alone.

“Hayden’s not with me,” I tell him. He relaxes and follows me inside, offering a seat in the living room with his hand.

“I didn’t anticipate he’d be coming anywhere near this place any time soon, but stranger things have happened.”

“You mean me being here,” I state boldly.

“Yes. What can I do for you?”

“Hayden’s gone. He told me he needed space. I need to know where that space he’s looking for could be.”

He shakes his head. “I have no idea.”

“Ace hit him a few times last night.”

Brian stands, angry and bitter. “Why? Hayden was dealing . . .”

“Hayden wasn’t dealing, Mr. Flynn; that was the problem. Hayden didn’t get home until last night. He’d been drinking and he was out of line.
Way
out of line.”

Brian sits again and braces his elbows to his knees, running his hands wildly through his thick, dark hair.

“I wanted a drink after he left,” he confesses.

“Did you have one?”

“No. Not because I care what happens to me, but what it would do to Hayden. I hurt him as much as any father could. I have my reasons, Lace. A drink won’t solve the problem.”

“What will?”

“I don’t know,” he whispers quietly.

“I need to find him.” The light in Brian’s eyes shines. “If you have any idea, I need you to tell me. After last night and what he found out about his mother, I . . .” I don’t want to finish. The thought of Hayden feeling so desolate and alone all these months has been weighing heavily. Now, in the face of a parental suicide, this could be disastrous.

“The beach house. It’s where he’s gone before.”

“I need the address.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“No,” I say while standing. “You’re the reason he needs space. Please respect that.”

Walking out of the room and leaving him to sit and accept what I’ve said, I wait by the front door. Pictures of Hayden decorate the walls. His sixth grade class picture, his high school graduation, college graduation. His life plays out frame by frame, but missing in each of these pictures is his mother.

She was dead and he had no idea.

“Here it is. I wish you’d reconsider. You shouldn’t be driving in your condition.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m pregnant, Mr. Flynn.”

“Brian,” he corrects, “I hope there will come a time when you feel comfortable calling me Brian again.”

“I do, too,” I say, turning around.

As soon as my feet hit the porch, Hayden’s dad calls for my attention. When I stop and turn to face him, I nearly miss the set of keys he tosses to me.

“Take the Mercedes. It’s safer than whatever that is.” He points to my car with skepticism. My car would have been fine.

“Okay. I’ll text you from Hayden’s phone when I get there.”

“Thank you, Lacey.”

* * *

The directions in the GPS were easy to follow. The beach is dark by the time I make it to Hayden’s street. Clouds hover over the water like a nagging cloak, surrounding the area with its impending rain. I see Hayden’s Land Rover in the driveway and kill the lights as I pull in. The house lights are off and I start to wonder if Hayden’s here.

I hadn’t given any thought to Hayden’s reaction to me coming here. I was more concerned with what he’d be doing without me. The mind goes to the dark recesses we don’t want it to know exist in times like these.

I knock twice, but don’t hear anything inside. My back aches as I stand in place. Holding my stomach, I turn around and feel for the top of my legs. Numb. I’m guessing the baby is situating herself on my spine and cutting off blood flow. There’s no pain, so I continue making the trek around the house to the walk-in basement. I don’t have to go far before the rain releases. Large pellets here and there start to hit, but after a few more steps, the rain picks up and I’m soon drenched and cold.

The back door is swung open, but again no lights.

“Hayden?” I raise my voice while looking a few feet inside.

No response.

Just as I start to panic, I hear my name called from a distance. I turn to find who’s yelling and I see Hayden standing on the beach barefoot with his jeans rolled up. From where I’m standing, I’m guessing he’s as soaked as I am.

He meets me halfway between the house and the beach as the rain continues to come down harder. Grabbing me tightly, he pulls me into him before pushing me back.

* * *

Hayden

The last person I expected to see here tonight was Lacey. Her presence, although good to feel, isn’t what I need. What I need is time alone with my thoughts; the opportunity to process my life’s events over the last year without influence or interruption. I can’t do that with her here.

Her small form, swallowed by her belly, is drenched. The worry on her face is paralyzing. She shouldn’t be out here in this weather. She shouldn’t have driven the distance to check in. I appreciate her for it, but I don’t want her here.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?”

“I’m looking for you!” she says, loud enough to cover the rain’s downpour over the ocean waves.

“I told you I’d call. You shouldn’t have driven all the way down here alone, Lace.”

“Hayden, I’m worried.”

“Well, don’t be. Just give me some fucking space, Lacey. That’s all I need.”

“Hayden,” she says with a serious tone that captures my attention and puts my mind right to listen. “I want to be here. You don’t have to talk to me. You don’t have to tell me what’s happening inside that head, but I don’t want to leave you.”

The rain pounds harder, the ocean’s waves slamming against the beach a short walk from where we’re standing. I sense her stress and hate I’ve put more on her. Especially now, when she’s so close to bringing our baby into the world.

A fucked-up world though it may be.

Leaning my forehead against hers, I confess loud enough that she’s able to hear it. “I’m lost, Lacey. I don’t recognize anything anymore. Everything I thought I knew was a lie. I’m a lie.”

“You’re not.”

“I hurt my friends.”

“They’ll forgive you.”

“I hurt you.”

“I forgive you.”

“I don’t want to risk hurting anyone else.”

“Hayden, come inside.”

“Lacey, go home.” We stand in challenge, each refusing to back down. “Stop trying to

fix me.”

“You’re not broken.”

Pushing her away from me, I notice the rain letting up. The veil of dark we had been surrounded in moments ago has lifted and we’re standing face to face nearing a breaking point.

My voice strains as it rises in anger. “I
am
broken, Lacey! You don’t see it. I don’t know why you don’t! Everyone I know does. Rae, Ace, Travis . . . they all know how fucked-up I am. I’m reminded every time I look at them. I’m never going to be what you think it is I can be!”

Her face drops. The concern she had been holding onto fades and in its place, a mask of fury takes flight. Pushing my chest, she screams, “You’re not broken, but you are fucking stupid. Jesus Christ, Hayden. Take a look!” Her arms fly out to her sides, wide open, revealing the belly I’ve come accustomed to touching. “This is for you. I’ve waited . . . so fucking long for you. I’ve held my patience and my loyalty . . . for you! Are you blind?” She stops, catches a breath and brings her hands to her stomach. “I
love
you, Hayden.
I love you!
Goddamn it. You’re a self-destructive arrogant ass, but God above help me, because I still love you.”

I’m speechless. In all my life
, all my life,
I’ve never had a woman tell me they love me. They’ve loved to fuck me. They’ve loved my hands on their bodies. They’ve loved the attention I briefly shower them in until I’m finished with them.

No one has ever loved
me.

My voice, strained from screaming, is raspy and dry. My body, tense from fighting internal battles for so long, is tired. I manage to say the words I’ve
felt
but never knew how to
decipher
until now. “I love you, Lacey.” Her face softens, her arms rest at her sides and I watch her visibly exhale. “I love you,” I say again a little louder, hearing the words fall from my mouth with urgency. “I do.”

Her eyes shine in the moonlight. She’s assessing me but not with anger or resentment. She’s appreciating me for who I am . . . to her. “I know you do, Hayden.” I nod gently, urging her to continue so she can lead me to the next step of whatever this is. I’m at a turning point and unsure where we go from here. “Take your time. Get yourself together and then sort this out with your dad. It’s important you listen to him.”

Pulling her into me, wanting to feel the safety and calm she gives me without question, I kiss the crown of her head and close my eyes. I hear her whisper against my skin, “I’m so sorry about your mom.”

My hands find the nape of her neck and I reluctantly pull her from my body. “Thank you.”

“For being sorry?”

Reaching up, I wipe the wet hair as it clings to her face. “No. For being you.”

“Hayden!” A voice hollers from the direction of the house and both Lacey and I move our heads to find my dad. We say nothing until he arrives.

As he gets closer, I fight the urge to expel every angered thought in my head.

“Go, Lacey. Go home,” my dad tells her. The expression on her face is determined but she thinks better than to challenge him.

Her head turns to mine and in the stillness of the storm that has passed, I hear her words with further clarity. “I love you, Hayden.” She stands on her toes and kisses my cheek, squeezing my arms as she lets me go. Without looking to my dad, she walks away back into the house.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I came to check on her,” Dad states plainly.

“Like you did my mom?” The words meant to hurt do their job and his face flashes regret and sadness.

“There are things you don’t know.”

“Really, Dad? ‘Cause I think I’ve been clued in, no thanks to you.”

He turns from me and stares into the ocean. His hair, not soaked in rain like mine, whispers through the wind as he releases a heavy sigh. He points to the chairs on the beach. “Can we sit?”

“Why the fuck not? Doubt you’ll leave any easier than she did.”

Once seated, Dad continues to stare into the ocean, never chancing a look at me. I’m studying his profile in wonder. I look almost exactly like him: the shading of our skin, the color of our hair, the same ice-blue eyes matching nearly in sync.

“I loved her, Hayden,” he starts, bracing his hands on either side of the chair. “She was my entire world for as long as I had her in it. I couldn’t breathe unless she was near me.”

“Dad, I don’t need this shit.”

“Let me talk, please.”

“Then say something,” I snap.

“She was sick. I knew when I met her she was suffering from chronic depression.” He pulls out the pendant he wears, the one that matches mine . . . so I thought. His fingers trace the edges carefully. “When we found out she was pregnant, I knew things would never be the same. My life as I had come to love with her in it would be different with an infant to care for. She would’ve been forced to give her energy to you and in turn, less focus would be put on her getting and staying well. The depression was severe, Hayden.” He stops talking, searching for words.

“Go on,” I prod.

“When I met her, she had bandages on her wrists. She was a waitress at the diner; I never lied to you about how we met or how our relationship took course. That was all true.”

“You omitted facts, Dad. You’re a lawyer, so that makes you an expert on lying.”

“I was protecting you.”

“From what?”

“From her,” he states, finally turning to look at me. “How different would your life have been had you known she had killed herself when you were four days old? Would you still be who you are? Would you not have let that hang over your head all your life?”

“Instead, I’m you,” I accuse and he winces at the accusation.

“Yes. You are. You’re making stupid decisions because that’s what you’ve learned from me. I’m ashamed to admit that, but I will if it helps you see your life for what it could be.”

Sitting back in my chair, I look to the vast ocean, trying to find whatever answers he’s

been searching for in the waves that continue to crash against the sand. I don’t find any.

“I drank to forget,” he confesses. “I drank so I wouldn’t remember her smell or the way she tasted. I didn’t want to hear her laugh ring in my ears or feel my fingers ache to touch her. That’s how it started. I drank to forget.”

“Did it work?”

“Yes, it did. It was a great distraction. Momentarily, I forgot how much I missed her. But by coping the way I did, I forgot about
you,
son. I ignored you as a child. I let Bean do a job I felt I wasn’t suited for. When I wasn’t drunk, I immersed myself in my work until I could get the bottle in my hand to finish what the day started. Another day of
nothing.
”

“That’s encouraging.”