Chapter 8
8
Gage
“Gage.” Claudia’s tone is firm. She’s in her hospital bed, but she sits on the edge, wearing her own clothes—one of her favorite sweatsuits that someone probably fetched from the adjacent rehab center. A nurse came by a while ago to tell her she can be discharged. “Go back to SE. I’m fine—I’m being sent back to rehab. Jess is fine. There’s nothing for you to do here except hover around, intimidating the doctors.”
“Are you shooing me out of the hospital?”
She nods. “Jess would say the same. I’ll be close by, I’ll visit her every day. And you’ll be safer away from here. The doctors will be safer, too.”
“Am I really intimidating the doctors?”
“Their egos are in grave danger. You’re too handsome and it’s throwing them off.”
I laugh, squeeze her hand goodbye, and leave her hospital room. Her Ironwood bodyguard nods at my Ironwood bodyguard. I made sure both Jess and Claudia will be covered until we get to the bottom of this.
As I make my way to the exit, a tall, brown-haired nurse is staring at me. I’d normally pretend not to notice, but Leah must be rubbing off on me, because I shake his hand and introduce myself.
Relief floods his features and his cheeks flush. “D’you think…I hate to be unprofessional, but could I get a selfie?”
“No,” I say reflexively, then soften it. “Sorry, I’m trying to lie low. I could sign something for you.”
“That would be great. I’m such a fan. Have you been watching the latest season of AoG? I wish they’d bring Zeke back—he was my absolute favorite.”
The nurse’s admiration is so pure, I reevaluate my feelings about photographs. After I finish signing, I take off my glasses. “You know what? Go ahead, let’s do the selfie. It would mean a lot if you kept it off of social media, though.”
“I swear I won’t post it, Mr. Hawthorne.” He makes the G symbol over his heart—a gesture popularized in later seasons of the show.
We take the photo. I put my glasses back on and then I’m on my way out of the hospital.
“Do you think we can make it to San Esteban by eight?” I ask my bodyguard, a dark-haired guy named Jake.
He looks at his watch. “Definitely.”
He unlocks the car and I slide into the back seat. My phone is in my hand and I’m dialing Leah before Jake starts the car.
She answers, breathless. “Gage. Are you all right?”
“Yes. Dinner tonight. You, me, Dmitri. We have a lot to talk about.”
“You’re coming home?”
“I’m on my way, sweetheart. I’ll see you soon.”
Next, I call Dmitri. We arrange to meet in advance of dinner. If we’re going to woo Leah for a long-term, permanent relationship, we need to do it as a unit.
* * *
Leah
We have a lot to talk about .
Gage’s words replay in my mind as Lauren drives me to the library. Today, I have SAT prep with Hector.
We have a lot to talk about .
Does he want to break things off? I can’t get married. If that’s a deal-breaker for him, for Dmitri…what does that mean for the three of us?
My eyes fill with tears. I surreptitiously wipe them away, hoping Lauren doesn’t notice. That’s the problem with having a bodyguard shadow me all the time—it’s impossible to feel my feelings in private.
When Lauren and I pull into the library parking lot, another car pulls in right behind us. It isn’t a busy time of day. I frown. It’s probably nothing, but I’m a little triggered after the last time a car tailed me.
I peer through my window, grateful for the heavy tinting on Gage’s car.
The male driver doesn’t look like anyone I know. But the woman in the passenger seat looks familiar. It takes me a moment to realize that I’d seen her in photos online—always with Harvey Billings.
“Do you see her?” I point.
Lauren can only spare a glance as she navigates Gage’s car into a parking spot. “The blonde in the sedan?”
“Yeah—she looks like Harvey Billings’s daughter.”
The sedan motors past us and out of the parking lot.
Why did they follow us in, only to leave?
“Was that weird?” I ask. “That was weird, right?”
Lauren nods. “It was weird. I’ll call in the incident to Ironwood.”
* * *
Dmitri
Gage is already at Low Vice when I arrive. I find him at the bar, keeping Betty company. When he sees me, he stands. “Let’s go back to my office.”
“Sure.” I follow him back, waving at a couple of coworkers who are here to prep the rooms ahead of a busy Saturday night.
His bodyguard, a tall guy with a build almost as big as mine, moves with us to the hall, but waits at the end.
We enter the office, Gage going to stand in front of his desk. I remain by the door. Neither of us seems inclined to sit down. I wonder if we’re squaring off for a fight.
“I want to marry Leah.” He doesn’t look away when he says it. “I want her in my life forever, and I want her to know it. You want to marry her, too.”
“We both can.” The laws changed recently, allowing for multiple marriage partners. So the possibility is there.
“And you’re okay with this? Both of us marrying Leah?” He clears his throat. “Dmitri, we haven’t been in this situation long, but I see you as a friend. More than a friend, because you’re a partner in loving Leah. It isn’t easy to describe?—”
“I get it, though.” Fucking feelings. “I care about you, even though you’re one of the most aggravating people I know.”
He laughs. “Fair. At any rate, I’d be honored to marry Leah alongside you.”
“Same.” I don’t even have to think about it. I can see that future stretched out before us, bright, perfect. Leah between us, making us the happiest guys in the universe while we work together to make her the happiest woman.
Gage sobers. “Obviously it’s up to her.”
I nod.
“Still, you were right, what you said about the proposal being impulsive. I should have come up with a plan.”
I bite back my sarcasm. His impulsivity might’ve scared Leah off. Even mentioning marriage to Leah the other day had her tensing up, shutting down.
He stares at me, eyes unreadable behind the reflection on his glasses. “You look angry.”
“I’m pissed, yeah. Maybe a little hurt that you left me out of it at the start. I thought we were pursuing her together, loving her together. Then you went rogue.”
“I did. I apologize. I’ve seen the error I made, and now I’d like to come up with a plan. With you.”
“Got it. I’m on board.”
“First…” He leans back, half-sitting on his desk. It’s a calculated move, meant to look casual. But the words he speaks aren’t casual at all. “Do you think she loves us?”
“I—” I stop to think. “Yeah. I think she does. She isn’t going to lie about it. She really loves us.”
“Do you have any insights then, on why she doesn’t want to get married?”
“Other than the fact we’ve been dating her for less than two months?”
His smile is self-deprecating. “Other than that.”
“I’ve known her a long time. I’ve known her boyfriends, too. She always picks someone who’s not quite right.”
“Because they aren’t you?” He raises his eyebrows.
“Ha, yeah. Partly, at least. The last guy, Mick—he was fucking terrible. And Leah seemed…not happy. But content. Like it was everything she expected.”
“Everything she expected. Hmm.” He frowns. “She told me she doesn’t talk to her parents.”
“She doesn’t.” I lean against the doorframe, take in the art of the room. Black-and-white photos of kinky poses hang on the walls. Like we need a reminder of where we are, what is done here.
Gage doesn’t comment, and I think back to when Leah moved in with my family. I was already in college, but locally at San Esteban State. “Her stepdad was verbally abusive. I don’t know everything that he put into her head, but it was bad, whatever it was. We never talked about it much. She mentioned something a few weeks ago. I don’t think any of us knew how bad it was at the time. Maybe my parents suspected, and that’s why they invited her to live with us.”
“If that’s the image she got of marriage…” Gage doesn’t finish the thought. He doesn’t need to.
“So.” I clap my hands together. “We don’t marry her. At least, not right away.”
Gage nods. “But we live together.”
“And we love her.”
“And we love her.” He takes off his glasses and finds a cloth in the case on his desk to clean them. “As far as living together—if Leah agrees, when do you want to move in?”
* * *
Leah
I work with Hector, and then my next student comes in, a freshman named Mallory. It’s my first time meeting her. She’s tall and gangly, with dyed-pink hair. She limply shakes my hand and quickly glances at my face to say hello before looking down again.
After five minutes of struggling through Lord of the Flies , I discover her secret. It turns out, she can barely read.
“Have you been hiding it all this time?” I ask, keeping my voice kind, level. I don’t want her to feel judged.
She nods, the tips of her ears turning as pink as her hair. Her gaze doesn’t leave the table—she refuses to look at me. “Yes. I’m sorry, I’m just so embarrassed.”
“You have nothing to be embarrassed about. The system failed you, not the other way around.” I fold my hands on top of my copy of Lord of the Flies . “The thing is, literacy isn’t what I teach.”
“No, please.” She finally meets my gaze. “I want to work with you, Leah. I’ll work extra hard, but if my dad sends me to a literacy specialist, everyone will know I’ve been lying this whole time.”
“How do you text and do social media?”
“I get by, sort of.” Her eyes fill with tears. “It’s just long books and things—it takes so long to read a sentence, I can’t get the meaning.”
“Okay. I’ll have to do some research on teaching literacy, but in the meantime, we’ll make the most of our hour.”
Her entire face lights up. I realize, then, she’s been fearing rejection for this entire meeting.
We read through the opening of Lord of the Flies together, slowly. I have her sound out the more difficult words, offering correction when she gets them wrong. I have no freaking clue what I’m doing, but by the end of the hour, Mallory is beaming at me like I’m some kind of hero.
I give her homework—reading a short chapter book written for a much younger audience. She’ll listen to Lord of the Flies on audio to at least get the story down, but we’re going to have a lot of work to do with reading comprehension and writing.
“Talk to your dad this week,” I tell her. “That’s your other homework. Tell him what’s going on. I’m not comfortable lying to him, and I’ve met him, Mallory—he wants the best for you.”
She nods. “I don’t want to disappoint him.”
“You won’t—he loves you and he’ll want to support you.”
We say our goodbyes. I sit for a long moment at the table by myself. Emotionally, I’m wrung out. And I’m going from here, to dinner with Gage and Dmitri to talk about more emotional stuff?
Finally, I gather my things. Lauren gets up as well—she sat two tables away this whole time, pretending to read. Together, we walk to Gage’s car.
“Ironwood is going to follow us home from the library in another car,” she informs me. “Just a precaution, to see if we’re followed by anyone else.”
“Smart.” Although I’m embarrassed—I hate that recent events have made me paranoid.
We get into the car. Lauren waves at the black SUV parked near us, then turns to me. “Ready?”
Ready to meet the guys and talk about the future of our relationship? Nope. Like Mallory, I’ve been fearing rejection.