Chapter 48 Rachel
RACHEL
“I’m ready.”
I peered at him. “For what?”
We were watching one of my shows on TV, a blanket curled around us both, naked as the day we were born.
Last week, if you’d told me before 90 Day Fiancé started that I’d be watching it from Rex’s lap, I’d have laughed hysterically.
Not only because Rex hated this shit, but because I didn’t think I’d be comfortable enough to sit like this with him.
Comfort levels changed after sex.
I’d forgotten about that.
Post-sex had always been borderline traumatic. Memories and horrible reminders that I wasn’t the same woman as I was before had always plagued me.
But after two nights of nightmares that didn’t end with me screaming and yelling at Rex, of going to sleep with baby’s butt-soft cheeks nuzzling up against mine, slowly, I was starting to associate sex with good times.
Nice intimate moments that weren’t life changing for the most part, but were for me.
I’d woken up with Rex’s hand between my thighs and while he’d been asleep so I couldn’t chide him for it, neither had I yelled down the house because my brain had accepted that his touch was reality.
Theirs was a memory.
It was a two-decade-long process, and I didn’t know what was making it happen now, but I was fucking grateful.
So fucking grateful.
Especially because, right at this moment, my freezing feet were tucked under his large paw despite the fact that my body felt like it was roasting as it was snuggled up against his.
Everything about Rex was hot.
Everything.
He was like a living, breathing hot water bottle.
“For Dad’s letter.”
I blinked, jumbling his words together so that they made sense to me.
“You’re ready to read the letter Bear left you?” I translated.
He grimaced. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Now?” I whined. “When we’re all comfortable and 90 Day Fiancé is about to start?”
His lips quirked into a grin. “You can press pause, Rach. It’s not like this is a new episode or anything.”
I pouted but said, “You did this on purpose so I’d have to streak across the room.”
“Hey, I need cheering up,” he defended, but I noticed there was a definite gleam in his eye that told me I’d caught him red-handed
Huffing, I clambered off his lap. “Give me the blanket.”
“But I’m comfortable.”
It had been so long since Rex had been playful with me that it took me a good thirty seconds to calm myself down and not get mad.
Huffing again, I held out my hand, watching that sparkle in his eye all the while as I tapped my foot, well aware that it made my tits jiggle.
He hefted up, dragged the blanket away, and handed it to me. As cool as you please in his delicious nakedness. “Spoilsport.”
“Bet your ass I am,” I said with a sniff as I wrapped the blanket under my arms and knotted it between my breasts.
Walking over to the door, I did my best not to break my self-imposed role, until I opened said door. Then, I twisted around, unfastened the knot, flashed him, before I darted out into the hall.
My grin broke free as I heard him howl with laughter, and cheeks red hot, probably above and below, I dashed down the stairs and headed toward my office.
Even from the hall, I could hear his cackling and it filled me with warmth. I needed it too. This letter, whatever it contained, was going to break the mood for sure.
But that was a part of being together, I guessed.
Being there for the rough and the smooth, while getting each other to the other side.
I’d stored the letter in my desk drawer, and grabbing it, I realized I’d left my phone in here when I’d gone to open the door to Rex the other day because the screen flashed with a notification.
God, small wonder it had been quiet—my phone was in here and in ‘do not disturb’ mode because I’d just gotten off a call when Rex had showed up.
“I didn’t even miss work,” I mused under my breath as I tugged it off the charger and scanned my notifications.
There were a lot from Parker.
Parker: Are you dead?
Parker: You’d better be dead if you’re ignoring this many of my calls.
Parker: SOS! Omg, where the fuck are you?
Parker: I had to call the clubhouse. I hope you’re happy now. I know you’re alive, and I know Rex is with you. I demand a full recounting by way of apology. Do you hear me?
My lips twitched at that, but I didn’t bother replying because I knew she’d make me pay on Monday so I might as well maintain radio silence before then.
Plus, if I’d answered, we’d have gotten into a conversation, and that would have just delayed the inevitable—handing over the damn letter to Rex.
Heaving a sigh, I forced my mind off work.
Especially when I saw a couple emails from the ins I had at the State Department.
I got to my feet.
Went to the door.
Hunter’s grin flashed before me as if he were standing there.
Huffing, I twisted back and headed to my desk.
I pulled up the emails, scanned the contents.
Each one was goddamn different.
Eamonn Keegan died in 1997.
Eamonn Keegan was released from prison in January.
Eamonn Keegan is listed as a prisoner of HM Prison Wormwood Scrubs.
I scrubbed my forehead at each one, wondering whether any of them, or none of them, were correct.
Because I was at a loss, I forwarded all three to Hunter and sent him a text.
Me: I’m going to bed, so I won’t see this until the morning, but I need information on a guy called Eamonn Keegan.
He’s who Dead To Me wants info about. I’m not sure if this is a trap, I’m not even sure what the fuck is going on when I get three completely different responses from my people in the State Department, but I don’t need to tell you how important it is that I give her the right answer.
Me: Love you, Hunt.
Me: Be a good boy and get me what I need.
When I saw the arrows turn blue, indicating that he’d read the message, I turned my phone over and dashed out of the room.
That was Monday’s problem.
Okay, who was I kidding?
Tomorrow’s.
Returning to the bedroom, I found Rex staring at the wall, his laughter long since gone. I was glad I’d given him that, especially as the letter in my hand felt like it weighed a ton.
I figured that was emotional weight because the envelope was as light as a feather.
Rex’s gaze landed on me as I closed the door, and wandering over to him, I grabbed another blanket from the bottom of the bed, sat myself on his lap again, then covered us both with the new blanket because I didn’t want to take off the one I was wearing.
When I was seated, I handed him the letter, only he shook his head. “Read it to me?”
Cringing, I asked, “Are you going to shoot the messenger again?”
He shot me a rueful smile. “No shooting.”
“Good.”
He slipped his arms around my waist and tugged me close.
Sucking in a breath, I opened the envelope and pulled out the letter. Tucked between the folds was a credit card. At least, it appeared to be a credit card. Upon further inspection, I realized that it was a room key card.
Frowning, I passed it to Rex before I started to read the letter out loud:
Son,
I’ve tried to write this letter a couple times and no matter what I do, I can’t seem to get my thoughts down right.
It’s hard because as I write this, I know when you read it, I’ll be dead.
That’s a fucked-up way to approach this, and it’s harder than I’d like to admit.
So, first things first—why am I leaving you this letter?
Because I think my death will be untimely, unexpected, and there won’t be a chance to give you a proper goodbye.
That breaks my fucking heart, son. I love you, but there’s the rub—I love you too much to get you involved in this preemptively. If I die, I die. There ain’t nothing I can do about that, and if my business is still unfinished, then I’m hoping you’ll be there to end shit for me.
Okay, so let me deal with this in a logical order.
By now, I figure you’ve learned that I was weak, and I’m pretty sure that you hate me. Or, at least, a part of you hates me. I’m hoping that by the time we next meet, you’ll have forgiven me.
Your mom did.
I need you to know that.
I told her everything, aside from Kendra’s existence because even I didn’t know about that until after Rene had died.
Learning who Kendra was broke me. She told me the day after the funeral, and I didn’t react well. You’d be ashamed of me, and to be fair, I’m ashamed of myself. I ran from that problem, ran from everything, and dove headfirst into someone else’s troubles.
I was a good father to you, King, but Kendra wasn’t so lucky. She’s I don’t really know what she is. She’s nothing like her mother, nothing like me. She finds joy in bringing others pain, and that kind of bitterness never ends well.
I’m pretty certain that I’ll get to see her again before I see you, and I hope that’s the truth. I can make my peace with her then, but for you, King, I hope you live a long and fulfilling life.
You need to get your ass back with Rachel, son. Make right whatever you did wrong because, fuck, she’s perfect for you. Your mom realized it a long time before I did, and Rene was always the smartest one out of the pair of us.
I’m also hoping that before you’re both old and fucking gray, you’ll wife her and brand her. I’d like to think of the Sinners being reigned over by the pair of you. You’ll take it from a bunch of ragtag outlaws into something better. Something more.
With you two, the sky really is the limit.
Whether you forgive me or not for Kendra, I want you to know that I love you. I want you to know that I’m proud of you, that I’ve always been proud of you. I want you to know that I have faith in you and that there was never a day where I wasn’t grateful to have you as my son.
I wanted Rach to give you this letter after I died because I knew you’d have questions. Maybe I should have given you the opportunity to ask them before I died, but truth is, I couldn’t have dealt with that.
Kendra is the embodiment of my weakness. I’ll always be ashamed that I let your mother down. Kendra doesn’t deserve that, but I don’t feel like she’s my flesh and blood. I believe her mother, don’t get me wrong. Maria’s a good girl. But Kendra, there’s no link there. No connection.
I left her no bequest. That’s wrong of me, and it’s even worse for me to say that I ask you to give her one.
Maybe you could help set her up somewhere, get her a house, do something to make her stop whoring herself out.
I don’t know if she’d even want that. The MC means something to her so maybe she’ll refuse, but try?
I include a copy of a key card to a motel room in the next town over—Hanover. I’ve been living out of there since I left. It’s my base. I own the place, well, you do now, so go visit it. There might be something in there you find useful.
The world is a lot more complicated than I ever realized. Your mother’s death helped me uncover a crazy web that I didn’t share with you because I figured you’d think grief had turned my head—some proof’s in that room.
Please, forgive me my failings, and know that I never set out to hurt you. I know you’ll hate me, and I say goodbye to you deeply regretting the mistakes I made.
When you’re living them, it’s like looking through fog—no way out. I know you’ll have been there, and I also know you’re a better man than me.
You always made me proud, and I know that’ll continue once I’m gone.
I love you, son.
Your loving father
I wasn’t sure how I didn’t break off to cry when he spoke about Rex and me, but I fell back on my role as Ice Queen to get me through. Only pausing in that when Rex burrowed into me, his face smushing up against my throat to hide from the world.
I couldn’t blame him.
Bear had a habit of yanking the rug from under our feet.
“Wonder what’s in that motel room,” was the first thing he said after a good ten minutes of silence.
Neither of us mentioned that I could feel the slick moisture from tears against my skin.
I was just as wrecked.
Having received one myself, I knew these beyond-the-grave missives were tough to handle.
“Want to go tomorrow?”
He was quiet a second. “Okay.”
He hit play, which made me jump because the sound from my show blared on, but I didn’t say anything, just squeezed him tight and held him close as I tried not to think about whatever Pandora’s box Bear had in his motel room.