Beautiful Ruins

Chapter 26

MAE

“Asshole!”

Tossing the framed wedding picture into a box of trash, I relish the sound of the glass breaking. It’s been a week since I flew back from New York, and the only way I can survive Damon occupying my every thought is to busy myself boxing all of Peter’s belongings as I prepare the house for sale.

Sleeping here is simply not an option, not even when Allyson said she’d come around and ‘sage the fuck out it.’ Nothing would ever be powerful enough to exorcise the terrifying reign Peter had over this house, me included. And it certainly wouldn’t put a dent in the memory of Carlson’s acts of evil.

In another couple of days, the real estate agents and the appraiser will put a price on the house of horrors, and I can finally be done with that chapter of my life.

With the last of the sun sinking low, the house falls into darkness. I loathe this particular time of day. It’s when his ghost comes out to play, his sinister presence lurking in the shadows and behind every corner, peace only coming when I illuminate the entire house.

Carrying the box down the stairs, I dump it alongside others that will be collected come morning.

“Going somewhere?”

Jumping clean out of my skin, I spin toward the voice, my heel catching the corner of the box, which causes me to fall against the wall. It’s then I catch sight of my intruder.

Jason.

“Seriously? You’re just going to scare me like that after everything ?”

“I called out to you,” he says, perched upon a kitchen stool, his Glock resting incongruously beside the fruit bowl.

“And did I answer?”

“Not that I heard.” It takes a moment for him to register. “My mistake. I’m sorry.”

Jason Shaw apologizing? This is new.

“So, is this a friendly visit or business because I’ve done everything you’ve asked.”

“You’ve done more than should ever have been expected of you.”

Who is this man?

“So, I guess you’re not here to make me disappear ?”

His stoicism breaks to a knowing smile, one that remembers all too well the threat he’d delivered after filming a blackmail video. “I’ve never made anyone disappear …” he absently toys with the Glock, “… that didn’t deserve it. Except my ex-wife.” Jason’s tone is so deadpan and so impassive it’s utterly frightening. “She packed up her bags one day seven years ago, and I haven’t seen her since.” He offers a resigned twist of a grin. “So, I guess one could say I made her disappear .”

I purse my lips, fighting a smile. “I’m not going to lie, Jason, I honestly thought you were confessing to a crime of passion.”

“Could easily have been. She drove me batshit crazy.”

I laugh, and it feels good because it’s the first time since him . “I imagine you had her feeling the same way on occasion.”

“More than once.”

A companionable silence settles between us before Jason grows uneasy.

“So,” I begin, keen to break the ice. “I’m curious. If it’s not to shoot me in my own kitchen, what brings you here?”

He tugs at his collar, loosening it around his neck and takes a long moment to gather his thoughts. “I, ah… I had a dog once when I was married. A Golden Retriever.”

Okay , not at all what I expected to hear.

Curious to his plight, I pull out the stool beside him and sit.

“They’re gentle and affectionate…” he continues, absently staring at the aging fruit in the bowl, “… and they tend to be drawn to humans of the same nature. The good souls. I’m convinced that’s why my dog adored my wife and not so much me.”

Oh.

“I’m not above admitting that she deserved more than I was ever capable of giving. I lost her because she was a good person, and frankly, I wasn’t. She deserved the world much like you do.”

Despite our volatile relationship, I can’t help but feel for the guy because beneath the cold, hardened exterior, I’m certain there’s a man fighting his own demons. It makes his vulnerability all the more difficult to hear. He’s just as broken as the rest of us, but he chooses to spend his days in self-loathing, carrying the pieces of his shattered world in his hands, the sharp edges cutting deeper into flesh the tighter he squeezes his fists. All in hopes that someday, he might find it in his heart to forgive himself.

I understand him completely.

“I come here, Mae, knowing…”

“You can say it,” I assure.

He nods with some hesitation. “I don’t feel like I’m in any position to ask any favors, but, ah… my brother’s fallen hard for you.” With a heavy exhale, an exhausted Jason drags a hand over his face. “It’s more than that. He’s lost himself in you.”

And I in him.

“ You were enough for Damon to give it all up and to risk everything we’ve spent years building. If I were a betting man, I’d say it was the night of the dinner party where he made up his mind to get you out of that marriage, and every day after, the harder he fell for you, the more he wanted to end Peter. Then the videos.”

Evidently affected himself, he’s cautious of opening recent wounds.

With a lump expanding in my throat, I whisper, “It’s okay. I’m in a good place.” Am I? “You can talk.”

His nod isn’t convinced. “When he, ah… when Damon saw what they had done to you, well, it’s fair to say I’ve never seen a man break before. He was just gutted.” His bloodshot eyes meet mine, and it’s almost enough to have me prove just how not okay I am, not when it comes to Damon. “Then, there was no stopping him. He declared war.”

And fight he did. For me . The pain in my chest becomes unbearable because I can’t imagine how much I hurt him with my accusations. “Jason, I didn’t know at the time. The way everything fell into place, it seemed he, too, was working against me.”

“Mae, I understand that there might still be some lingering doubt over my brother’s intentions, especially where the contract was involved. But there’s something you need to hear.” Reaching into his suit jacket pocket, Jason retrieves his phone. “I ah… I’ve told you previously that I have eyes and ears everywhere. Well, the car at the airport was no different. I’ve only just learned that this conversation carries some weight for you both. For what it’s worth, neither man was aware they were being recorded.”

This is the conversation Peter taunted me over, recklessly planting seeds of fresh doubt.

Hitting play on what he had the foresight to record, I listen to the sound of the car door closing followed by a sigh of irritation.

Damon: “What the fuck do you want?”

Peter: “Don’t tell her.”

Damon: “You have an exhaustive list of offenses, Peter. What am I not to tell her?”

Peter: “Don’t divulge the details of what happened on those videos. Or about Carlson.”

Damon: “And why wouldn’t I?”

Peter: “Because if you agree not to, I’ll sign all the contracts you need. You get what you want, and so do I.”

Damon: “You’re an insidious disease, Peter.”

Peter: “Maybe so. But I can cut you a deal you’d be stupid to refuse.”

Damon: “What makes you think I need anything from you that I’m not already getting?”

Peter: “As you said, there’s an extortionate amount of money to be made, but if you keep quiet about what you saw, you don’t have to give me a cent of it.”

A long pause gives way to what feels like contemplation.

Damon: “So, what you’re saying is you and your cunt of a brother repeatedly drugged and raped your wife, and you want a free pass for the both of you. You want me to keep your fucked-up little secret under wraps so there’s no personal repercussions or judicial persecution?”

Peter: “I guess if that’s—”

Damon: “Is that what you’re saying, Peter? It’s a simple yes or no question.”

Peter: “Yes.”

Damon: “And in return, you’re offering me your full cooperation from here on out with contractual obligations spanning the next decade and without payment. Yes or no?”

Peter: “Yes.”

Damon: “I’ve got to say, Peter, with each interaction I have with you, you never cease to surprise me.”

Peter: “So, is that a yes?”

Another long pause and my heart feels like it could jump straight out of my chest. It’s a tempting offer, and I still fear Damon might have given it some consideration.

Damon: “I’m going to let you on a little secret. Proposing ten years of your service, cost-free or not, isn’t penance for what you did to Mae, nor will it ever be enough to keep me quiet on the atrocities you and Carlson committed. In two days’ time, it’s game on, and the only thing stopping me from shooting your head square off your shoulders right now is the sheer joy it will bring me causing you both unimaginable pain and humiliation day in, day out for the rest of your miserable existence. And every time you teeter on death’s doorstep, I’ll bring you back the fuck alive so you can relive each truly horrifying moment all over again. Quite simply, there is absolutely nothing you can offer that will save you or your fucked-up piece-of-shit brother from me.”

My heart swells, fractures finally starting to mend.

Peter: “And if I choose to not sign the contract?”

Damon: “Feel free to take that risk.”

Peter: “You can’t do this to me!”

Damon: “And yet, I am.”

Peter: “I’ve been compliant all this time—”

Damon: “You’re making the mistake in thinking this is about the contract. It’s far from it. That woman on the plane is the only thing I give a fuck about. That, and hearing you and Carlson plead for mercy that will never come.”

The door reopens, and I hear what I can only assume to be Damon exiting the car.

Peter: “She’s not worth it, you know.”

Fingers drum on the roof.

Damon: “I look forward to giving Mae the life she deserves. The same can be said for you and your brother. As of this morning, Carlson’s being introduced to your lover, Finny. I know you two don’t mind sharing so it’s only appropriate.”

Peter: “You’re fucking insane!”

Damon’s uncompromised loyalty and Peter’s sheer desperation draw a smile on my face.

Damon: “Now you’re catching on.”

Signaling the end of the exchange, the car door slams shut, and Jason presses pause on the recording.

For a long moment, neither of us speaks, the weight of our reality almost too great to bear.

Damon…

Sobbing into my hands, I struggle to reconcile the man who fought so hard for me, to the distance which separates us now. We belong together. We always have.

“Thank you,” I say, wiping my face. “Thank you for understanding just how much I needed to hear that.”

Jason nods but still, he appears at war with himself. “All this time… I wasn’t aware of the significance, and I’m sorry. Damon has only just informed me how Peter manipulated the conversation, and with the culmination of every fucked-up thing that transpired, I’m not surprised how it all imploded the way they did that night.”

“You weren’t to know it would become our breaking point.” Although, I can’t help but think how different things could have been. I certainly sleep better knowing Peter’s dead and Carlson faces a lengthy sentence. Yet, I remain completely and irreparably broken because the man I love isn’t in my life. “Does Damon know you have the recording?”

“He does now.”

“And yet, you don’t look as relieved as I now feel.” When he doesn’t reply, but I witness his unease grow, I ask, “What is it, Jason? What brings you here instead of Damon?”

“My brother can’t undo the damage he’s caused by keeping things secret, but he’s rather headstrong about not wanting to further wound you. And while you may think the worst has already happened, his experience tells him otherwise.”

I’d heard the anguish in his voice at the gallery. ‘I don’t ever want to see you drown, Mae.’

“Is it because he believes what happened to your mother will happen to me?”

He nods, breathing deep through his nose. It’s evident the grief is still raw, and I’m certain on any other day, Jason wouldn’t want to discuss such a personal matter.

“Damon was my mother’s favorite. While I carry more of my father’s asshole-ish traits, Damon took after my mother. Kind. Spirited. Loving. He never spoke a bad word to her and in a house with not one but two abusive men, my brother was her angel. She would read to him every night tales of mystery and adventure, and every Christmas and birthday, she would gift him a first edition. After her death, he carried on the tradition of growing his collection, so I knew that night of the dinner party when I walked in on you two discussing a particular book that we were in trouble.”

I’d felt it too.

“Jason, what happened? To your mom.”

His troubled eyes still harbor guilt as he rubs the back of his neck in an effort to relieve years of pent-up tension. “I fucked up,” he says, matter-of-factly. “I fucked up big time. I said some things I shouldn’t have said. It was callous and mean of me, especially since I knew what she’d just gone through. My father had spent the entire night attacking her. The vile shit that would so easily slip off his tongue and the physical damage he would do to her was not something I’d seen again until we met you and Peter.”

I understand now. Jason’s hostility toward me all this time was just an extension of a memory he probably tried to bury time and time again. It doesn’t form an excuse, but it provides clarity to the situation.

“My father was a particularly detestable man. Strong in business but so incredibly weak as a husband. He felt it was his right to punish his wife over his affairs. Anything to deflect the blame off him.”

Letting him speak without interrupting, something tells me this may well be the first time he’s ever opened up about the grief surrounding his childhood.

“My mother shouldered his rage-fueled outbursts for years, staying only because she didn’t want to leave her young boys. He was the type of man who’d threaten that if she did leave, he’d forfeit her right to Damon and me. He wielded the sort of power that could crush anyone who stood in his way, including the one woman he was supposed to love.”

Jason pauses, his gaze resting on the black vein of the marble counter, but his mind is well and truly back there , lost in the finer details of what led to the day’s tragedy. “That night, she emerged from his office broken and already so close to the cliff’s edge. Instead of offering her comfort, I wanted to know if she’d signed the Change of Subject form for school. My father didn’t deal with menial tasks like our education, and I’d been nagging my mother for two weeks. She said she hadn’t gotten around to it, and I cracked it at her.” Complete with self-loathing, Jason’s eyes find mine. “It was as stupid as that. I tormented her over a fucking subject change form.”

“Jason, you weren’t to know.”

“But I should have because it wasn’t like we couldn’t hear what he put her through. And I… I was just like my father. Sometimes I wonder if she saw it in me that day and decided then in the hall that she couldn’t survive two of us.”

Oh my God. The guilt he must have been carrying all these years.

“I raged at her like she wasn’t human let alone someone I loved. Then she did the strangest thing, but I only see it now in hindsight. My mother stopped crying and stood tall like the weight suddenly lifted off her small shoulders, a weight she should never have been forced to carry in the first place. Her bruised lip stopped trembling, and the hand prints around her neck no longer bothered her. She cupped my cheek, gave this small, defeated smile, and walked down the hall.”

Jason can try all he wants to disguise the grief he still feels, but as we sit at my kitchen counter in the near dark with just the stovetop light on, a comradery is formed out of the tears we both shed.

“She, ah… she stopped outside Damon’s door, her hands and forehead resting against it. She stayed like that for a good minute, listening to him sing and play on the other side. I, um… I realize now that was her goodbye. She couldn’t bring herself to open that door to see him because Damon was her angel, and he would have found a way to save her with just a simple smile. But this time, she didn’t want to be saved. It wasn’t until I was in my room staring up at the ceiling that I had this sinking feeling in my gut. I couldn’t shake it. Something was wrong, you know? So, I ran. I ran so fast that I dislocated my shoulder on the doorframe, just trying to get to her in time. But it was all in vain. An hour had already passed, and I was too late.”

Jason sucks in a ragged breath, and I take his hand in mine. If someone had said this is how Jason and I would form a friendship, I would never have believed them. I see the vulnerable boy he still is. One who continues to carry the painful memory of a loss so profound.

“When I reached the patio, I found her in the pool. Face down. She had on a nightie, and her long blonde hair was creating this golden halo as the water gently rocked her. The toxicology report said she had taken a handful of Valium before drowning herself.” He turns to me dead on, his message clear. “My mother wanted to die peacefully because her life was a living hell. A bit like the life we were creating for you. Damon chose for you to live, Mae.”

But I can’t ‘live’ without him.

The adage of ‘hurt people, hurt people,’ couldn’t be truer, but it takes not being a psychopath to admit it, something that Peter and Carlson would never have been able to do. And that’s what separates the Shaws from the Cooper brothers.

“Is that why Damon goes out to swim in the dark?”

Jason nods.

I think of him in the stillness and silence of the night, floating on his back and staring up into the sky, searching the stars. Searching for memories of his mother before he loses them forever. Bidding her farewell over and over again because he never had the opportunity to hold her close one last time. Then I’m haunted by images of him sinking to the bottom, attempting to drown the monster she wouldn’t ever want him to become.

“Does he know you’re here?”

“Fuck, no. But I owe this to my brother. It was me who pushed my mother over the edge that day. It was me who stole her away from us. From Damon. And it was my fault he never got to be held by her again. But not once, not ever in our years growing up together has he ever blamed me. He has every right to, but as I said, Damon is a far better man than I will ever be. So no, he doesn’t know I’m here.”

I reach over and grab the near-empty box of tissues, and we spend the next minute tidying our grief.

“He hasn’t been the same since you left Dubai. Then, after seeing you in New York, he’s hurting, Mae. But he’d rather harbor that hurt than you be hurt.”

Tearing at the tissue, I realize the regret I’ve been feeling is because I let him walk away from me because I believed that’s what he’d wanted. “What if no one has to hurt anymore?”

“Unfortunately, he can’t quite see it that way at the moment. Listen, Mae, I can’t undo what happened to my mother or the way I treated her in her final moments, but Damon believes he can do that for you.” Jason shifts, again looking uncomfortable despite having just poured out his heart. “There’s something else.” Pulling an envelope from his jacket pocket, he drops it on the counter. It looks identical to the one handed to Peter containing his alleyway prostitute fetish. “While we employed someone to follow Peter, Damon chose to follow you. I suppose it can be seen as perverse, but he wasn’t comfortable with someone else doing the job. The objective, however, was to also dig up any dirt on you. And, as you’ll see, he failed.” He slides the envelope toward me. “He doesn’t know I’ve taken these from his office.”

The package shakes in my hand as I slide out the stack of photographs. One by one, I flip through the fleeting mundane moments captured to create the very essence of time.

Me standing with Charlie, the homeless man, outside the art store, entertained by yet another joke he’d recently learned.

Me at Griffith Observatory, pad book resting on my knee while I sketched the city, my long hair gently blowing in the breeze.

Me with Antonio, painting the mural on the outside wall of the new wing addition to the children’s hospital.

Me in a series of images sitting on the beach reading, my pale skin sun-kissed under the pink and orange sunset hues. A golden retriever bounds up to me, licking my face until I fall back on my blanket, the dog accepting the invitation for a cuddle.

Jason’s earlier mention of his golden retriever now hits a little differently.

Having just scratched the surface of the pile, I realize this would be six months’ worth of looking through Damon’s eyes.

They’re as simplistic as they are stunning.

Jason stands, hooking his Glock behind his back. When he’s about to walk back down the hall to the front door, he pauses, seemingly lost in thought. Then, inhaling sharply, he shatters my heart with one final admission. “I’m, um… I’m fairly certain it was in these very moments that my brother first fell in love with you.”

~

“We’ve come full circle, I see.”

Marco’s warm yet rueful smile greets me when he opens the front door before I can even reach for the brass knocker.

“Hey, Marco.” Stepping into his waiting arms, I realize just how much I’ve missed him. We haven’t seen each other since the day before I flew to New York, and now it feels like reuniting with an old friend. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s better seeing you.” He cups my cheeks and holds my gaze. It’s then, in the light, I notice the lines around his eyes are now etched that little bit deeper. I guess everything has a flow-on effect, and no one has emerged from this unscathed. “I was starting to worry you wouldn’t show.”

I appreciate his faith in my ability to turn things around, but lingering doubt has me wanting to flee into the night. Damon had said his goodbyes, and it wasn’t optional for me to accept. Now, here I am, ready to tell the man I love that it’s no longer an option for him to deny us of each other. “I don’t know how receptive he’ll be to me.”

Marco steps back and closes the door, the noise echoing up to the domed foyer roof. “Don’t doubt your power over him, Mae. You’re literally the air he breathes, which is why he’s been dying without you.”

Hooking my arm through his, he escorts me through the dimly lit mansion. “Since when did you become a poet, Marco?”

“Since watching a real-life love story play out before me.” There’s no way to form a reply without becoming emotional. Once we reach the living room, Marco pulls away. “Now go get him, so we all may have our happy ever after.”

I offer a smile, no more convincing than my persistently trembling hands.

Jason enters the living room through the pavilion and freezes when he sees me. With an empty scotch glass in his hand, he exhales a palpable sigh of relief.

I point to the pool. “Is he…”

Jason nods, and as I pass him, I hear the gravelly nature of his tired voice. “Thank you, Mae.”

The struggle is felt by everyone because Damon is such a presence. A dominating force that when his world is knocked off its axis, everyone else falls like dominos.

Kicking off my sandals and leaving my handbag and keys on the outdoor dining table, I walk through the pavilion and down the large stone steps to the pool. The seasons are changing, and with an early chill in the air, steam rises from the heated water. With just enough light from behind, an eerie silence deceives me into thinking I’m alone.

But I know better.

I know Damon and his ability to hold his breath for dear life.

I step closer, and there he lay, a shadow still as can be at the bottom of the pool.

He stares up to the sky, searching for a love sadly long gone and a love he’d rather selflessly forgo than share the same fate. Not caving to fear, I dive into the warm water with a desperate longing to break his solitude. My ankle-length blood-red dress takes on a majestic life of its own, blooming like a rose around me.

Soon, our bodies unite, as do our eyes, and in that moment, I witness his profound relief—the torment of having almost lost me forever now no more. Before I float away, Damon cups the back of my neck and draws our lips together as if we’re each other’s life source. I find myself wrapped around his strong body, sighing contently at how perfectly we fit, and return his kiss with equal devotion. There’s no longer a goodbye separating us. There’s a history, one with shadows and deep regrets, but in this very moment, I am his, and he is mine.

Any fear of losing him again dissolves as Damon hooks a strong arm around my waist and kicks off the bottom. We break through the surface in a rush, and hidden in the clouds of rising steam, he rests his forehead against mine.

God, I’ve missed you.

Words go unspoken—time now our companion as we bask in being in each other’s arms once more.

“From now on, there are no more goodbyes,” I say, unafraid in setting the rule. “It simply doesn’t exist in our vocabulary or any of its derivatives.”

Damon’s knuckles graze my wet cheek. “This world of mine was hurting you, Mae. I hurt you.”

“No, what hurt me is now either long dead or awaiting trial. And had you not saved me, there’s no telling what they had planned for me next.” The thought alone is debilitating, but I find comfort in knowing the man who stands before me is a true hero and not the monster Damon has feared he’s become. I pull away just far enough to see his painfully handsome face. “I know in New York, you left after reading the artist’s statement as if it was written and seen as a testimony to our relationship. And it was. Because your love is what I’d choose to drown in every day of my life.” I think back to the condition I was in when I summed up the state of my heart in less than two hundred words. The vulnerability. The tremendous sense of loss. “Don’t you see, it’s when I’m not being lulled by your voice or being swept away by your current that I feel like I am actually dying.” Gliding my hands over his smooth chest, I relish the warmth of his skin and the thundering of his heart beneath my touch. “Damon, I want you to be my ruin because it’s the only way I feel truly alive.”

His eyes, dark and lost, search mine for certainty. “And when it all gets too much?”

“My love, we’ve already weathered the storm. It was destructive and unpredictable, and while battle weary and scarred, we survived.” Pausing with due concern, I drape my arms around his neck and relish in the close contact I’ve so desperately missed. “You thought, in order to save me, I had to lose you, but that doesn’t have to be our fate.”

The deep rumble of his voice hums through my entire body. “I never wanted to lose you, sweetheart, in any capacity. But in Dubai, before you walked out of that door, I saw what I’d done to you. I’d ripped your heart out and pushed you so far out of reach that I didn’t know how to bring you back to a point where you’d ever feel safe again.” Damon unsticks a lock of hair from my temple, his lips tenderly kissing the very spot. I lean into his lingering touch, my heart fracturing when hearing the ache in his words. “I can’t bear to lose you too.”

The words barely form on a breath. “You won’t. I promise.”

He faces me, worry still etched across his brow. “I saw the light die in you that night, and it was fucking terrifying. More so because I was the reason behind it.”

“You never took my light, Damon… you were flaming what was left. I may not have known it at the time, but I do now. Marco and Jason told me everything.” The lump in my throat tightens, like a chokehold I can’t shake. “Your mom, she would be so proud of the man you are and how you fought for me when I couldn’t.”

Damon’s deep inhale nearly breaks me. The relief he must feel of a burden suddenly lifted would be immense, and his heart is now healing the wound he’s bore for much of his life.

“This is really us?” he asks, cupping my cheeks and grazing his lips over mine.

Closing my eyes and relishing the moment, I whisper in return, “This is us.”

I feel his smile in a kiss, then his murmur, and God, it’s so damn perfect. “I’ve wanted to make you my wife since the very first day I saw you.”

And that’s why we were destined to be each other’s beautiful ruin.

“I’m yours, Mr. Shaw. No more goodbyes.”