Chapter 33
THIRTY-THREE
STORM
T he quiet halls feel strange in comparison to the intensity of the showdown with Lakeland.
But I traded revenge for peace, so isn’t this what I asked for?
I’m letting go of pain and embracing joy. That’s what all this has been for, and with my feet guiding me toward Tempest and Raiden’s room, all I can think is: I’m ready for this.
I move past familiar guards protecting the top floor where my family sleeps. I should go to my room first and put my firearms in the bedside safe, but I can’t.
My feet head in the direction of Tempest and Raiden’s room.
I slide in on silent feet, closing the door with a quiet snick. Standing there, I watch the two of them breathe, and feel a rush of emotion so potent, it almost has me bending over with the force of it.
My children are here, sleeping. Safe.
There’s that word again.
I don’t think I’ve let myself fully embrace the concept of safety. It felt too risky if I did, as if doing so would invite even more devastation and loss. And to be honest, I haven’t known safety since my parents died.
Before then, even.
And now, things are about as safe as they can be, and…I’m not sure what to do with myself.
Raiden stirs, and I hold my breath, my hands tightening on the doorknob. I shouldn’t have come in here in the first place, but I couldn’t help it.
“Dad?”
God. Dad.
Raiden’s sleepy voice floats over to me, and I don’t know whether to freeze more or go to him. My choice is decided for me when he sits up in bed and rubs his eyes.
“Yeah, kiddo. It’s me. I’m sorry to wake you,” I whisper, aware of Tempest sleeping in the other bed and moving slowly to sit next to Raiden. Tems got her ability to sleep like a rock from Shae. I grin, thinking about the mornings I’d try to wake Shae for long minutes before she finally stirred.
“‘S’okay,” Raiden says. “You came back.”
You came back.
There’s so much wonder and happiness in his statement that it’s heartbreaking and reassuring at the same time.
“Yeah,” I say, my throat clogging. “I’ll always come back for you. For you and your sister.”
Raiden pauses. “And Mommy, too?”
I suck in a breath at that. My immediate instinct is to shout, “Yes!” at the top of my lungs. But the other part of me, the part that decided eight years ago to let Shae be free out of some misguided sense of nobility, jolts with shame.
Would I come back for Shae? Absolutely. Have I proven that to be untrue? Yes.
But that was then. This is now.
I tried living without Shae once, and it wasn’t anything like living. It was existing. It was cheap moments with women I don’t remember to fill the emptiness. It was walking around the Earth while being dead on the inside.
I grab Raiden’s hand and squeeze it slightly, looking over to Tempest.
Shae’s given me the greatest gifts in my life, and all I’ve given her is pain.
Never again.
“Always, Rai,” I say, slipping into his nickname. “I love your mom—always have, always will.”
Raiden chews on his bottom lip, the nightlight casting a glow on the side of his face.
“What is it?” I whisper, leaning in closer.
Raiden blows out a breath, and it smells like the sparkly toothpaste Shae had delivered specifically for the twins.
“If you love mommy, are you going to get married?” he asks, and hell if that isn’t a question.
“Would you like that?” I ask, and Raiden pauses for a moment before responding.
“I dunno,” he replies honestly, and I nod at that.
“No stress, champ,” I reply, squeezing his hand once more before standing.
“Dad?” Raiden asks once I’m a few steps from the door.
“Yeah, Rai?”
“Could I…have a hug goodnight?” His voice is small, almost as if he expects me to say no.
I pull him into my arms in a tight squeeze.
This. This is everything. I’d fight a thousand Lakelands if it meant I could have this moment.
I look over my son’s head to his sister in the next bed. She’ll come around, too. It’ll just take time.
It will all take time.
After tucking Raiden back in for the evening, I exit the room and shut the door slowly.
I expect to be alone in the hall, but when I turn, she’s there.
Shae leans against the wall with her arms and ankles crossed, a wrinkled Asheford University T-shirt barely covering the shortest pair of shorts in all of Chicago, I’m sure of it.
“I didn’t want to interrupt,” she says. “I was gonna check on the twins and heard voices.”
I try not to gawk at her, so to cover my sudden awkwardness, I mirror her pose on the wall next to the kids’ door.
“I just got in. Sorry for missing bedtime,” I say, and she shrugs.
“I’m used to doing it alone,” she replies.
For the first time, the statement doesn’t feel like a dig. I search for something, anything, to say, and I start to panic when Shae straightens.
“Well, I guess this is goodnight,” she says, but she doesn’t begin to walk down the hallway. She just stands there, looking at me with a guarded expression.
“Do you want some ice cream?” I blurt out, saying the first thing that comes to mind to keep her with me for a while longer.
Shae releases an amused huff and says, “Ice cream? It’s midnight, Storm.”
I shrug. “That’s the best time to eat ice cream in my book.”
She grins and seems to think about it for a moment before saying, “Lead the way.”
I don’t do the thing I want to do, the natural thing, which is to grab her hand and wind our fingers together. She hasn’t given me permission to move to that stage, and she may never.
And I’ll have to be okay with that.
When we hit the kitchen, Shae settles at one of the stools while I head to the freezer.
I chuckle when I see the options.
“Butter pecan?” she whisper-shouts when I turn around. “Okay, grandpa.”
I snort, dropping the gallon of Blue Bell on the marble countertop.
Pulling at drawers in search of spoons and an ice cream scoop, I say, “Listen, beggars can’t be choosers.
I don’t usually eat this stuff, however, Axel has a sweet tooth, so…
” I shrug, placing the utensils on the counter and grabbing a bowl.
“Ah, so we’re stealing then,” she says slowly, eyeing me down as I dump two large lumps of ice cream into the dish.
“Is it really stealing if he’s housing it in my refrigerator?” I ask, and Shae makes a face.
“Touché,” she replies.
Putting the top back on the ice cream, I replace it in the freezer and pick up both spoons, handing one to Shae. She hesitates for a fraction of a second before grabbing it and scooping up some of the dessert.
I watch her as she takes a bite, her eyes closing at the hit of sweetness.
“Wow, for old people ice cream, that’s pretty damn good,” she says. My mouth dries from watching her, and I’m sure I’ll say something stupid if I talk right now, so I shovel in a bite so big, it immediately causes brain freeze.
Shae grimaces when I hiss.
“Ow. Did the cold get you?” she asks, and squinting at her, I press on the vein in my temple and nod.
That’s sexy, I’m sure.
When the pain passes, I clear my throat and say, “Got overzealous with the Blue Bell,” and Shae snorts.
We eat our ice cream slowly in a comfortable silence for a full minute before Shae speaks again.
“It’s been a week.” She places her spoon back in the bowl and winds her fingers together, her palms kissing.
“It has,” I say, putting my spoon down opposite hers.
“So can you answer my questions now?” she whispers, still looking down at her hands. I so want to touch her, I want to control her movements so she can look at me, see me.
Instead, I take Riale’s advice.
“Would you look at me, Shae?”
She takes in a slow, deep breath, and in inches, she looks up until our gazes lock.
The fear there has me choking, not because it’s present, but because I put it there.
“With the kids and co-parenting,” I start, remembering the questions she asked back in the media room days ago. “I want to be there. I don’t want to miss a second with them, Shae. Even missing saying goodnight feels wrong.”
She nods, still holding my gaze, and I try to project just how honest I’m being, just how much I want to have my cake and eat it, too.
“I understand that,” she rasps.
“As for Legoland in Tokyo,” I say, a slight grimace coming to my face. “Things are technically safer right now, but I still don’t think it’s a good idea. Not for the foreseeable future.”
Shae bites her bottom lip, her brows furrowed.
“What in the world does ‘technically safe’ mean?” she asks, leaning away from me. Her spine hits the back of her chair. I stare at her, searching for what to tell her and how. It’s not that I’m being purposefully difficult, but more that I’m afraid she’ll be overwhelmed and run.
But isn’t that the point? To trust her and respect her by giving her the chance to choose?
To choose me?
“Major steps forward have been made tonight,” I say. “But I don’t know what the fallout will be yet.”
Shae remains quiet for a moment, but the guarded look begins to fall from her face. She swallows and says, “Why didn’t you tell me your uncle killed your parents?”
The words are soft, but I catch them anyway. Is this the moment where it all comes down on my head? Where she finds out just how much of an idiot I was, and how my immaturity wrecked the best thing in my life?
“Is that why you broke up with me, Storm? Or was it really all about long-distance?”
My throat burns, all the words I want to say jamming in my esophagus.
I’ve let her have her beliefs about why I left, but I can’t….
“I would have followed you to the ends of the Earth, Shae,” I vow, and goddamn it, the statement has me wanting to bawl. Fuckin’ bawl.
Shae sucks in a breath, moisture clouding her eyes.