65. Bay
SIXTY-FIVE
bay
The last eight hours have been a blur of going to see Levi in jail, getting pestered by Sheriff fucking Muncy, and the constant worry of Ellie and Mae.
Then there’s the heartache.
The piercing, stabbing pain in my gut that twists and turns and demands nothing less than to hollow me out.
I knew I would break both Reeve and I when I signed that marriage license with tears in my eyes. All I saw was the line and the blue sticker that said sign here .
It was the end of a love story, fuckfest, being in each other’s company—whatever you want to call it—burning alive with each stroke of the pen and I felt every lick of flames singe and threaten to swallow me whole with them.
I hate myself.
I loathe the adult decision that I had to make. I wish I could take back what I said, the vile things I mentioned to Reeve about his sister, but he wouldn’t leave.
He wouldn’t fuck off.
And I knew I had to get him where it hurt to make him shut down and cut me off altogether.
It was cruel, and he was the last person I would ever want to sever so deeply, to ever believe he was fucked up and twisted.
But I did it.
And I’m fully aware that I’ll never be able to come back from that.
Ever.
With the marriage certificate in hand, my meeting with Emilio was meant to be short, quick, and to the point.
There really isn’t anything else to say.
Not only am I rescuing my loved ones, but I made more enemies around me. Everything that Levi and I tried to do backfired with my ex’s help.
Assistance that, one day, I will watch him bleed from.
When striding inside the boujie mansion, everything that lies in this house will haunt me forever.
Memories of Torin and I in the library. The words that he spoke in the foyer about never leaving me alone and always looking to make me pay for the loss of his brother.
His grief will hopefully one day die, but it’s too raw, too fresh, for him to be able to forgive me just yet.
If he ever does.
I hate that I don’t know the answer to that.
As much as he hurt me, ripped everything out of my life, I still care for him. I still remember how he looked at me with those tawny eyes and conveyed that he was falling for me. That he’d go to war with me. Our relationship was a combination of petty, greed, and lust, flawless and strong as we went at it with each other. All wanting the last word, always right, and never backing down.
With Reeve, it was mellow and euphoric. He was true, and reckless, the kind of relationship that, if it wasn’t too careful, it could burn the other.
And I’m the one holding the fucking lighter.
I’m brought to Emilio’s office by one of his butlers. The red wallpaper with gold print dawning the windows along two of the sides and a few bookshelves scattered here and there only makes this more cryptically accurate that Emilio is just as gaudy and shitty as ever.
It’s not until I feel the heaviness of being watched that I glance over to see Emilio first, leaning up against his desk with a glass of something dark inside. In his perfected gray suit, he watches me step deeper into the room and that’s when I notice the shift in the air.
My eyes catch the movement of Ramsey, dressed in a white button up and black slacks, but it’s not him. He just vibes me agitated with his furrowed brows that mean nothing to me.
However, it’s the first time I’ve ever seen much emotion out of the man, so whatever.
No, it’s when he moves that I see the black tee and jeans. Where my eyes make out the even darker tattoos along the flesh of another man’s arms, disappearing underneath his shirt and travelling upward to his neck.
Equally raven hair covers some of his face, longer at the top, kinda like Cairo, but the stranger in the room keeps it in his face.
Purposely maybe.
His pitless eyes stare back at me, and he doesn’t move. Like he’s part of the wall and I was never supposed to know he was there in the first place.
A precariousness falls over him that immediately drapes over me, travelling to my head, flicking my brain on to high alert.
I can’t pull my eyes off him, as if he’s mentally stabilizing me to him. That he’s creating a vortex to where I’m wrapped right where he wants me and it’s here.
Who the fuck is this?
“Haven.” With great difficulty, I pry my eyes from the dark stranger, and look at my sperm donor and the fucking name he keeps trying to pin me with. “Would you like something to drink?”
“No,” I deadpan but can’t help myself when I tack on, “but I’d like it if you’d call me Bay like I’ve asked you to do over a million times.”
Emilio, being himself, doesn’t respond to the fact that he is or isn’t going to do that before gesturing for me to take a seat, but I refuse it.
I’m not that stupid and something feels so off right now that I feel as though I’m the last one to know what that is. That I’ve perfectly stridden right into a trap because the room feels unstable and shook.
“You summoned me,” I convey simply. “I’m here with the contract and…stuff.”
“It’s not going to be like that,” Emilio replies. “I asked you here because…well, we’re family now.” I fight the immediate urge to roll my eyes. “And I have an update on everything for you.”
Hope floods every inch of me as I step forward, forgetting the tension in the air. “You found them?”
“No.” My attention draws over to Ramsey, reaching behind his back to clasp his hands together.
My eyes narrow. “You haven’t…” I lock my teeth together and demand for me to take a large breath.
They’re not following through with their side of the deal.
“Bay, we’re not worried about that,” Emilio says softly. “Everything will?—”
“Of course you’re not,” I retort back, keeping my heavy glare on Ramsey. “I can’t say that I’m impressed by my future husband’s skillset.”
Ramsey’s face flattens, and that’s why Emilio pushes away from his desk.
“Bay, there’s been a change in plans.”
“If you’re about to tell me that you’re not going to follow along with what we agreed upon, I’m just going to put a bullet in you myself, right now.”
“That’s not at all what I mean. I meant that there has been a change in plans with your husband.”
Oh, fuck me, no.
Nope.
No.
No.
Torin.
He’s my first thought because who else would it be? Pretty Boy somehow got Emilio to change his mind, used our relationship to make it make sense and I can’t.
My body practically cowers from the idea. I can’t deal with him. I don’t want to deal with him and his fucked-up attitude right now.
I’m just…not in the right mind space for the shit. I need to get all the funeral arrangements together and I’m still alone to do it by myself.
Emilio gestures with his hand from my peripheral and the shadow of blackness in the room, comes forward.
My eyes lock back on to the man covered in tattoos and dark features. Everything on him black, bleak, and impassive.
Plush lips, an edged jawline, and tan skin, it makes his heap of tattoos look like one and I notice they’re down his fingers as well. He has more black ink than open skin, and an aggressive shudder possesses my body as he openly stares back at me like I’m either a freak or something he can’t figure out.
“Bay, this is Ozzy, Ramsey and Torin’s cousin.” I give him a curt nod in acknowledgement so he gets to the point, while the man does nothing.
Shocker.
He’s an asshole just like his blood.
“And he’s going to be your husband.”