Flawed (Blaze of Glory #2) (4 page)

Then came Luke, my shining knight in a moment of darkness. He taught me about a new way to deal with the darkness that threatened to consume me every day. With every cut came a brief moment of relief in a flash of red, a moment where I was free of the mind-numbing thought patterns that clouded my judgment. The thought patterns that told me I would never be good enough, that no one but Luke could ever love me enough... but they always came back.

Now they’re here to stay, with precise jabs at my already low self-esteem. I will never be good enough for anyone. I’m nothing like my beautiful, perfect sister with her handsome husband and stepson. No, life will never be that good for me.

“... and you’ll get to meet Keets. He’s so funny, you’re going to love him.” Shannon’s constant babble worms its way into my thoughts, interrupting them. Sitting up straighter on the couch, I rub my forehead with one hand as I try and catch up to her. “Shannon, slow down,” I say tiredly. “What’s this about? Who’s Keets?”

“Oh, my gosh, you haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you?” She laughs. “Keets is Stone’s best friend. He’ll help you to run Saddles while we’re in Hawaii.”

“Me?” I ask, ignoring the wince of pain from my stomach as I sit up straight. Panic shoots through me like a spear. I haven’t been back home since I left for college; how will I cope being there without the added security of my father or sister? “I can’t run Saddles, I... I—”

“Have nothing better to do,” Shannon replies sternly. “You’ve finished finals, you’re not working. There’s no reason why you can’t come home for two weeks.”

I sigh and drop my head, knowing she’s right. I’ve run out of excuses; there’s nothing I can say that will get me out of this. “When do you need me?”

Keets

Two months later…

To my friends and family,

I guess the demons finally won. For years, I’ve put on a brave face, smiled when I’ve felt like I was dying inside. Do you have any idea how it feels to live in a shadow of your own making? Every morning I wake up, drenched in sweat and calling out her name. Don’t you see I blame myself? Why shouldn’t I? I was a fucking firefighter, for crying out loud. It was my job to save people. But I didn’t. I froze when I should have been running to her side. I should have gotten her out, or died trying. Everyone keeps telling me to move on, leave her to rest, but there is no rest for either of us, don’t you see that? She haunts my every waking hour. I see her face every time I look at another woman. And our child—Oh, my God, our child. Would it have been a boy, or a girl? I’ve always wanted a daughter, and so did Liz. Would she have had my nose, her mother’s eyes? Would she have begged me for ballet lessons or a pony? I like to think I would have made a good father, but I guess that’s something else I will never know.

Everyone says a woman’s intuition is reliable. Did she know? Did Liz somehow instinctively know that was going to be the day she died? Did she know I wouldn’t make it up those stairs? When we spoke that final time, she sounded so calm, so confident. I can almost imagine that it’s just some horrible dream I’ve yet to wake up from. Truthfully, I don’t know if I could have been as calm, knowing I was about to die. But that was just the kind of woman Liz was. She never would have let her fear show, for fear of upsetting others. The most beautiful, caring, selfless woman I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, and her light was snuffed out in a split second, the blink of an eye.

How do you even contemplate spending your life alone? Liz was it for me; my soulmate, my lover… my best friend. It should have been me who died, not her. Never her. Liz, who was everything beautiful and right in this world, left to die and remembered as nothing more than a pile of fucking rubble and ash. But isn’t that the way life goes? The ones who deserve to live are the ones who are murdered, maimed and destroyed. Those of us who were somehow lucky enough to survive are forced to leave flowers that die in two days at a site that will be remembered for a few months then forgotten, just like the people who perished there. You think we’ll remember the names of everyone who died on 9/11? We won’t. Fuck, the media covered the same stories of hope and survival over and over again. All the deceased got was their ‘number’ on a fucking plaque. Liz tried to tell me this for so long before her death; individual lives don’t matter. Did you see her face on TV? Did you hear about how she insisted I leave her behind and get as many people out as I could? Did they tell you the way she held it together in those final moments, giving everyone around her comfort in what can only be described as Hell? How the fuck would you feel, knowing you could be just minutes from death, trapped in a room no bigger than an elevator? My guess is you’d be freaking the fuck out. You’d be focusing on getting yourself out, no matter who you had to step on to make it to safety. You certainly wouldn’t be chasing away the one person who could save you. You wouldn’t be begging them to save everyone else. But that was the sort of person Liz was. Did you know she once climbed out onto a ledge, about twenty stories off the ground, to save a damn bird? The little bastard had hurt its wing and it was sitting on the ledge, cheeping pitifully. Liz didn’t think twice, just opened the window and climbed out. We kept that damn bird for three months through the winter, until its wing healed and we were able to release it back into the wild. Fuck if I know how, but that bird kept coming back. Every afternoon at four pm, it flew to the windowsill and sat there singing a damn song until she opened the window and fed it a piece of apple. I told her so many times not to let it get too attached, that it would stop trying to fend for itself in the wild, but Liz insisted that it was fine. She was too sweet for her own damn good. And it got her killed.

I still remember her final words to me. She told me to live. And I’ve tried, I’ve tried so fucking hard to be brave, to be strong. But I’m just… not. I’m just a coward, afraid to live my life without the woman who breathed so much life into me. I can’t stop thinking about the little girl who never was.

The Army didn’t stop the nightmares, nor did they stop the constant, self-inflicted wounds. So many small scars cover my body. I’m so ashamed of them. Let’s face it, I deserve every single one of those scars and more. I should have saved her, or, at the very least, I should have died with her and our unborn child. Though both might have been alive today had I just been able to get up those stairs. I don’t deserve to live while they lie lie dead in the ground, so I’m taking the easy way out. Many of you won’t agree with me, but please remember that this is my choice, the only one I feel makes any sense. I need to be with her, need to hold them both again. This life is pointless without her smile, without her light. I know you can’t understand this, and I’m not asking you to. I guess I felt I just owed you all an explanation. I’ve been fighting these demons for so long, and I just can’t do it anymore.

With that, I will sign off now. Please remember that I love you all. Stick together because, in this fucked -up world, we can only rely on ourselves and each other. Please, don’t blame yourselves for what I’ve done., tThis was my choice,, my demon to vanquish. Maybe now I’ll be able to find the peace that has eluded me for so many years.

Love, Damien

***

“Keets!”

I glance up as I shove the letter I’m writing into a plain white envelope. “What’s up?” I ask, sealing it and writing on the front before putting the pen down. Taking off my glasses, I lay them on the desk. It’s been a long day, and I’m exhausted. “What’s that?” Shannon asks, gesturing to the letter as she steps into the office and closes the door quietly behind her.

“Nothing,” I say, stuffing it inside my leather jacket pocket. The last thing I want is for her to read what I just wrote. No one can know what I’m planning until it’s too late to stop me.

She raises her eyebrows but doesn’t say anything about it. Instead, she states, “Nat’s going to be here any minute,” referring to her little sister. Natalie Harper has been away at college for the past few years, but with Shannon leaving for Hawaii with her stepson, Zeke, and husband, Stone, Natalie is coming back to help run their late father’s bar, Saddles. I don’t know much about her, only that she’s six years younger than Shannon. Which, if I’m not mistaken makes her about twenty-three, much younger than my almost forty. “Keets? Did you hear what I said?”

I snap out of my thoughts and smile at Shannon as I stand. “Sure,” I say. “I’ll make sure Natalie runs the bar properly.” I know how much Saddles means to her.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Shannon asks, her brow creasing with concern.

“I’m fine,” I reply, plastering a fake smile on my face as I drop a light kiss on the top of her blonde hair, draping a heavily tattooed arm around her shoulders. “Stop worrying so much. You’re gonna go to Hawaii and you’re going to have an amazing time.”

She sighs and drops her head on my shoulder. “I know you’re right,” she groans. “I just don’t know if we should be going right now.”

“Why not?”

“Well, for one thing, Zeke is—”

“A typical teenage boy,” I interrupt her. Shannon married my best friend, Stone, about three months ago, but their relationship has been anything but easy. Stone’s first wife, Grace, was diagnosed with a brain tumor and sent Stone the son he never knew he had. For the longest time, Zeke refused to speak to anyone, but Shannon was finally able to get through to him and the two of them formed a close bond. Then there were the financial issues with Saddles. Stone thought he could make the situation better by marrying Shannon and paying off her debts, and it would’ve been a perfect plan. However, Shannon was arrested for murder at their wedding reception. I knew she’d been abused by her ex, Troy, but I hadn’t known the true extent of his depravity until that day. When Shannon was jailed for the murder he framed her for, no one knew what to do… least of all her brand new husband. It’d taken some pretty harsh words from his son, but thankfully Stone was able to get himself sorted out and prove Shannon’s innocence, and Troy was put on death row. We thought things would get back to normal, but lately, Zeke’s been acting out, talking back and generally being rude. I suspect it has more to do with him hitting puberty than anything else. But I know Shannon and Stone are worried. “He’ll be fine,” I insist, squeezing her shoulders once before releasing her. “When do you guys leave?”

“In about ten minutes,” Shannon laughs, smoothing her blonde curls back over her shoulder and pulling them up into some kind of low twist. She’s a beautiful woman, and for a short time I thought maybe she and I… but Shannon’s more like a sister to me, and I couldn’t betray Liz’s memory by starting a new relationship with another woman. “There you are,” Stone’s voice booms as the office door slams open and he strides in wearing a black T-shirt and blue jeans. His short hair is slicked back as though he’s just had a shower, and a strong smell of musky aftershave follows him into the room. I chuckle as he leans over and presses a long, hard kiss against her lips, his hands roaming down to her pert ass covered by a pair of tight blue jeans. Discreetly clearing my throat, I raise my eyebrows and bite my bottom lip to hide my grin. When Stone growls and pulls away from his wife, annoyance is written on his face. “Can I help you?” he snaps at me.

“Oh, no.” I laugh, hooking my thumbs through the belt loops on my jeans as I lean back against the wall. “Just enjoying the show.” I’m rewarded when Shannon flushes a pretty shade of pink.

“Enjoy it all you want,” he says. “Because looking’s all you’re gonna get.”

I laugh out loud at that. I never imagined I’d see Stone so hung up on a woman, but Shannon’s had him wrapped around her little finger since day one. I’m happy for him; he’s been through Hell and back, and he deserves love and happiness. “Hurry up,” he says, his eyes softening as he looks at Shannon. “Zeke’s waiting for us outside.”

“I’ll be there in just a minute,” she promises, watching as he walks out of the office and through the bar, out the front door. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?” she asks, turning back to me, giving me her undivided attention. “Of course,” I answer, walking with her into the main bar area. She seems a little distracted, but I just put it down to pre-vacation jitters. Rummaging through her pockets, she pulls out a set of keys. “For the bar,” she explains, passing them over to me. I nod silently and pocket the keys before following her to the front door. I see Stone waiting impatiently outside, leaning against his truck as he jiggles his keys in his hands. Zeke is in the back seat with his headphones on, clearly not interested in speaking to anyone. “Have a great time,” I say, wrapping my arms around her in a warm hug, grinning over the top of her head at Stone’s scowl. He hates anyone’s hands on his woman. She nods silently and pulls away, but not before I notice the telltale sign of tears shining in her big blue eyes. “See you later,” she whispers, hurrying out of the bar. I watch through the window as she stops by Stone, who wraps his arms around her. Even from here, I can see how much they love one another and it’s almost sickening.

After they leave, I busy myself tidying up the bar. It’s a rustic-looking place, with wooden furniture and a large moose head mounted on the wall above the bar. A mechanical bull sits on the opposite side of the room and looks like it’s rarely used. I’ve often spoken to Shannon about renovating Saddles, but she always shuts me down before I even finish. I get it, though; this bar belonged to her father, and she doesn’t want it changed.