Chapter 13 Ripper
Ripper
“So, what happens now?” Curled up at my side, Haven’s hair tickles my chest.
“With us, or in general?” Assuming the former is obvious, I think about the latter. “I’m going to help take those guys out. Blaze? I’ll make sure he gets what’s coming to him.”
He scared her pretty good, planned on taking her as a bonus, and almost killed Judge. I think the list is already too long, and I’ve got no intention of letting it grow any longer.
“If they get taken out, what’s going to happen to Meadow Falls?” She frowns as she stares ahead. “They’ve always been a terror since I was a kid…”
I get where she’s coming from. I do.
We pulled our charter out of that town for a reason. Greedy, ruthless bastards. Always wanting to fight over the stupidest things. Instead of talking, it’s always blood with them.
“Who knows. Someone could come and take their spot. Or, it could become peaceful. Hard to tell.” Groaning, I dig the heel of my palm in my eye. “Place is shit, no offense. Holds too many bad memories.”
She’s silent for a minute, her finger tracing an old bullet wound. “Can I ask something?”
“Never ask that. You want to know something, ask away. When it comes to you, I’m an open book.” Seriously. Whatever she wants to know, it’s hers.
“Your sister…” She blinks. “You mentioned her in the past.”
Did I? Normally, I don’t talk about her. Must’ve been a poor slip.
“She died a long time ago.” I kiss her forehead to ease her worries about discussing sensitive subjects. “She got caught in the bad town, an innocent bystander in a sour deal. I’ve moved on. She got her justice.”
I let my lips linger so I don’t have to confess what I did to get justice.
The moment John died, and Ripper was born, isn’t a tale I want her innocent ears to listen to.
The very same day, I met a certain nobody with big dreams but with no one to hear him out but a dying bastard who lost his baby sister.
“Willowbrook Ridge is pretty nice.” She muses softly, thankfully moving to a better subject. “Once all this is said and done, are you going to give me a tour?”
All the sour thoughts in my head disappear, turning into pure bliss at what she’s asking me.
“I’ll take you to every shop in town, if that’s what you want.” Rolling over her, I can’t contain my grin. “Show you off a little, let them see a beauty they can’t have.”
Her laugh is perfect, and I capture her hand before she can bat me away.
Wanting to kiss her until my mouth grows numb, I start with her fingers. Taking my time, I have to make sure every second counts.
While I don’t have any intention of dying, there’s no way I’m wasting this excuse to be over the top while she’ll let me. Might as well have her get used to it now, so when I return, she’ll be expecting the amount of love I have to give.
* * *
Epilogue
The world is quiet up here on the mountain. Sunlight filters through the pine trees, dappling the worn wood of the porch where I sit, a fresh cup of coffee warming my hands.
It’s perfect, except for one thing.
A damn blue jay is squawking its head off in the old spruce, a relentless, screeching rhythm that’s starting to get on my last nerve. It’s interrupting the concert playing out before me.
My wife stands in the middle of the clearing with our daughter, Cece, perched on a tire swing that hangs from the sturdiest branch of the oak tree.
She’s singing a song she thinks she knows by heart, but she’s missing a handful of lyrics.
Haven’s trying to help, but I don’t think it’s working too well.
What a view. Best thing I’ve ever witnessed.
Cece’s giggles ring out, clear and bright as the mountain air, cutting through the bird’s racket.
She’s four years old, a tiny, fierce replica of her mother with a shock of my dark, unruly hair. Each push from Haven sends the tire swinging higher, the arc of her joy sweeping past me.
“You know,” I call out, my voice rough yet gentle. “The song doesn’t include all those giggles. You’re ruining the melody, short stuff.”
Cece cranes her head back, her little face a perfect mask of mock defiance, and sticks her tongue out at me. The sight of it, that sassy, unafraid gesture, sends a warmth through my chest that has nothing to do with the coffee.
Haven is the one who laughs, the sound of a melody far sweeter than any song. She gives the tire one more strong push, but I see the slight tremble in her arms as she lowers them. She’s getting tired. I can’t have that.
I’m on my feet in an instant.
Crossing the distance between us, the pine needles soft under my boots, I stop in front of her. Handing off my cup to warm her hands, I reach out, my calloused fingers gentle as I take her chin, tilting her face up to mine. The morning sun catches the gold in her eyes.
I stare at her mouth, at the slight, tired curve of her lips, and a familiar, possessive ache settles deep in my gut. A moment of weakness, just for me.
“Take a seat,” I tell her, my voice low. “I’ll push.”
I want to kiss her. I want to taste the morning on her lips and swallow that tired sigh. But I know if I do, if I steal her attention for even a second, the little queen on that tire swing is going to voice her royal displeasure.
The world, for Cece, must keep spinning, and the swing must keep swinging.
So, I compromise. I lean in and give Haven a soft, quick peck, a promise, and a postponement all in one. Somehow, I find the strength to let her go. “I can wait until later,” I mutter, the words a low growl meant only for her.
A slow, knowing grin spreads across her face. It’s a look that still, after all these years, has the power to undo me completely. “Before or after we’re supposed to meet Paulie?” she asks, her voice teasing. “You know how he gets if we keep his niece from him.”
The thought of her brother, of town, of anything that threatens to pull us from this mountain, is an irritant. But that punk… he’s family. The only one from her old life who earned the right to stay in our new one.
Groaning at the reminder, I know I’ll do whatever she wants, even if that means spending all day in town.
I push the swing, sending Cece soaring into the air with a fresh peal of laughter. I sigh, giving in to the inevitable pull of family. “I’ll enjoy you once we return to the mountain.”
The squawking bird has finally given up, defeated by a superior melody as our daughter starts her encore. As Cece swings back toward me, she catches my eye, her little hands gripping the rope tighter as I push her higher.
It’s her giggle that helps ease the knot in my chest.
I can wait. Even if Trouble can’t take a hint and let us leave a little early, I’ll have the patience of a saint.