Irrevocably Mine (Imagine Ink Book 3) (14 page)

Man, he was sharp.
“At the time of his trial, there was zero evidence to connect him to my case. I found out later, Meshelle Pryce, DJ’s step-sister, was Hank’s STD-riddled girlfriend.”
I thank God every day that I was insistent on condoms.
“They had a creepy threesome thing going on and apparently she used her worn out twat to get them to help the sister of another person she was fucking, who just happened to be the defendant in my case. The connection to my client and the defendant was so convoluted it was impossible to prove in court.”

A sound of sympathy passed his lips before he gave her a lingering kiss on her forehead and just held her tight. The last time she’d felt this level of love through a simple hug had been when her parents were alive. Not ready for it to end, but also wanting to get this share session over and done with, she regretfully pushed Dax away. A cold shiver took her, which seemed impossible with the amount of clothing she wore.

Getting lost in his eyes felt like a real possibility until they changed. Dax realized why she pushed away, that much was obvious. “Oh, right. My turn.” Dax dropped to the edge of the bed, rested his elbows on his knees and his chin on his hands. “Well, let’s start with the easy stuff first. I don’t know how much you know about my past, or why I’m still legally married to a woman I haven’t seen in years.”

“I know about Macy and your not-so-ex if that’s what you mean. I don’t have issue with either,” Stacy interrupted, and it was the truth. She didn’t need to be legally married. She wasn’t the type, anyway. As far as a kid went, well, she had always wanted kids, still did. She just felt like a moron when it came to babies. So, a kid that was already a teenager was no problem for her, she had a little experience in that arena, at least.

Dax looked at her with hope beaming from every facet of his piercing eyes—hope laced with a heavy dose of doubt. “It means the world to me to hear those words from you, but I just heard from Chuck earlier.” Now, he seemed hesitant. “Macy Bug coming home is not just the same distant dream I’ve been having every night since she left. It’s a real possibility. Chuck’s found them, well, found Sam, anyway. But Macy won’t be too far away from her.”

Stacy dropped to her knees in front of him. Removing his hands from his face, she clutched them in hers and rested them against his knees. “Dax, I couldn’t be happier for you. The thought of getting your daughter back after so long must be overwhelming. I hope you know that I understand you’re a package deal. Whether she comes home this week, next month, or years from now. I get that, I really do. But it doesn’t change things between us.” The relief in his eyes barely registered before he freed his hands and clutched her cheeks.

Searching her eyes for answers, he must’ve found the ones he wanted or needed, because his kiss came swiftly, brutal and punishing, and he spoke the words again, “I love you.” No finesse or guile. No prose or flowery words. Simple and to the point, just like Dax. A response was poised on her lips, and she tried, she really did. But she just couldn’t do it. It felt dishonest, not because the feeling wasn’t there but because she wasn’t as transparent as him. He was laying it all on the line yet she didn’t have the guts to tell him that Hank was in town and might be stalking her. Dax losing his shit over that bit of information was a certainty, especially since he had opened up so much of himself.

Dax putting physical distance between them pulled Stacy from her inner chastisement. “There’s more that I need to tell you, and you’re not going to like it, but I have to come clean.”

See, he’s giving us everything and you’re holding back,
Puppies
whimpered. The voices were separating once again yet still ganging up on her. It was the separation that bothered her, both of her voices, and from Dax.

He produced an envelope, sealed and wrinkled. “This is everything…you just told me.” Her gasp made him recoil. “I never read it, but I had Chuck compile it. I wanted to know you, the part of you that held you at a distance, the part that built a wall around your heart. I wanted in, and I thought if I knew that shit, it would help. But, once it was in my hands, it felt…wrong. As badly as I wanted to know those things, I wanted you to want me to know more. I’m so sorry, Stacy. I violated something precious and I hate myself for it. I hope you can forgive me and know that I acted from an honorable place, even though it was a dishonorable act.”

Stacy was too stunned to respond. Staring down at the envelope in her hand, time went by slowly.
Tic-toc, tic-toc.
He had her investigated, but then didn’t read it. What kind of person does that? She was torn between being pissed, like shooting a hornet’s nest with a water hose pissed, and deep respect. Who would want that information so desperately, then have the restraint not to read it once they have their hands on it?
Not my ass, that’s for sure. I would’ve read the fuck out of it and not even blinked.

At a loss as to how to react, Stacy shut down. What else could she do? She felt violated and respected at the same time. This was all too much for her, way too much all at once. She had given her body to him, which was one thing, but she’d also handed over her heart. That was the kick in the pants in this whole messed-up pile of shit. That sense of violation seemed to grow as she looked inside and realized she had violated him first. Not telling him Hank was here seemed like the right thing to do, but his confession just made that little secret weigh a metric ass ton on her conscience.

Dax stood and finished getting dressed, and as much as she wanted to, Stacy made no move to halt his progress. “I know what I did was unforgivable, but I do hope that one day you can find a way.”

As he made to leave, Stacy found her voice. “When? When did you have this done?” She couldn’t explain, even to herself, why it mattered, it just did.

“Honestly? I didn’t ask Chuck to look into it until last month, but I wanted to from the night of your housewarming party when the drink loosened your tongue.” His attempt to impart humor fell flat. Stacy wasn’t in the mood to laugh. “Anyway, I quizzed John and he was closed-lipped, but between the two of you, I gathered enough to know something had went on. I asked Chuck, and well,” he indicated toward the enveloped clutched in her hand as he stroked his beard, “the rest is history.”

Dax approached her, brought her to her feet—and kissed her, closed mouth, and desperate. When he pulled away, she was lost in the despair and loss pooling in his eyes. “I love you, Stacy. No matter what else you question after I leave here tonight, do NOT question that. I know I have my work cut out for me, but I hope you give me a chance. Us, a chance. I’ll leave now and give you time to think. I know that you will need it to analyze and overthink this which is your MO.” Again, a glint of humor and appreciation reflected off his face. Dax kissed her forehead and allowed his lips to linger. It seemed like an eternity, yet, not nearly long enough. “Just remember that I am waiting for you, but my patience has its limits, love.”

That was it. He left. It didn’t truly register until she heard his motorcycle fire up and rumble down the street. But still, she sat. After a few minutes, the tears came. Not for what he had done, but for what she had done. Dax had confessed to his deepest feelings and darkest deeds, but she held back just a little.
Typical
. For some reason, she feared going all-in, even when he had. No hesitation, no doubts, he just gave it all freely.
What I wouldn’t give to be able to do that.
Her heart was all-in, with or without her cooperation, but that insecure part of her needed to hold something just for herself, and all she had control over was information.

Stacy fell face-first into her pillow and screamed. When she inhaled to release another, she smelled Dax. Her future, and it was slipping away because of her inability to risk it all. A statement that had never been true before…
Hank and his twisted fucking games.
Stacy’s body stiffened and she flipped over and launched up, coming to a vibrating halt in a seated position. “That fucker will not take another thing from me…or Dax.” She would handle this situation like she always did, with major badassery, superior intelligence, and a pair of Manolos that women would kill for.

D
ax started
second-guessing his departure before he ever made it to the front door. He wasn’t a runner, never had been. Hell, never would be, but Stacy was. He took a calculated risk and now, he was afraid it was a major miscalculation. What if his attempt to give her space to stop her flight caused her to believe he didn’t care enough to stay and fight? Fortunately, deep down, he knew that wasn’t the case. Stacy would use the space to evaluate, reevaluate, Hell, make a list like Erika does and come to a logical conclusion.
Right?

Deep down didn’t do much to soothe the surface, but it was out of his hands now. Stacy had to deal with shit her own way. The possibility she might distance herself was eating away at his soul, but he kept telling himself possibly was better than definitely. If he interfered, it was a foregone conclusion, so he took the course with the best odds. It didn’t help with the horde of Vikings raging through his stomach.

Dax found himself at the Reid’s instead of home. The sun was just thinking about waking up. Francis was already on the porch, beckoning him in with a cup of coffee, or he would have pulled away. He hadn’t realized he’d been aimlessly riding for so long until he shut down his bike and met Francis on the front porch. It seemed like he’d just left Stacy’s bed. The older woman thrust the cup in his hands, reached up, and patted him on the shoulder lovingly while directing him toward the screen door. “Come on in, son, Frank is finishing up the biscuits and gravy now. Good thing you happened along, you know when Frank’s in charge of breakfast, he makes enough to feed an army. If somebody don’t eat it, I’ll be up to my ears in gravy.”

That was all she said. Francis Reid seemed to understand he didn’t want to talk or be quizzed, even though it was obvious she knew something was troubling him. It was written on her aging, but beautiful, face. It was an unspoken transfer in her touch. It was so many things. She knew, maybe not details, but the lady most certainly knew. After watching his own mother self-destruct for years, only to glimpse what he’d missed when she was in recovery, Francis willingly and happily filled a void in his life. She was everything that was good in this world, and Dax loved her as sure as if she had birthed him herself. Francis seemed to revel in the dynamic, too.

Seated at the table and sipping his second cup of coffee, the comfortable silence felt therapeutic. It was only broken by the sound of a china plate being placed in front of him with Frank’s announcement, “The best SOS south of the Mason Dixon right there. Eat up, son.”

“Frank! I’ve told you not to call it that.”

“What, shit on a shingle? Well, when I make it, that’s what it’ll be called. When you make it, you can call it what you want to, woman.” Dax enjoyed watching them interact. Raised by a single mom, this was something he’d missed out on growing up—the playful banter, loving insults, and faux ire. It’s what made the Reids the perfect southern couple. Being here always made him feel a bit like a little boy, and he kind of needed that security right now. That must be why he subconsciously rode here.

“First of all,
old man
, don’t call me ‘woman.’ Secondly, you haven’t been in the service since Reagan was in office, you’d think you’d have adapted by now. Besides, it’s vulgar, no one wants to eat something called SOS.”

Dax tucked into his SOS, or biscuits and gravy. No matter what you called it, it was divine. So was the entertainment. The lightness was just what his heart needed.

“Really? Vulgar, is it? This from the lady who makes sailors blush.” Frank reached out and pulled her close. He whispered in her ear, “My vulgar mouth didn’t seem to bother you last night. In fact, you seemed to absolutely love it.” Frank sucked at whispering, causing Dax to almost choke on a forkful of breakfast.

“Frank, you stop that right now, old man, we have company and in case you missed it, his heart is heavy, so leave off your naughty behavior and just go sit with the boy.” Francis was better at whispering, but not by much. She patted Frank’s arm and reached for Dax’s mug. As she headed to the coffee maker, Frank grabbed a plate and joined Dax at the table. Eating with him in comfortable silence was exactly what he needed. He gave Francis a nod of thanks as she set his steaming mug by his plate.

Kissing him on the top of his head, she breathed, “Anytime, son, anytime.” As she straightened to her great height of five foot nothing, she spoke excitedly, “I’ve got to get dressed. My fabulous children have invited me along for Gus’ OB visit. I’ll get to hear my little grand-baby’s heart beat and maybe even see that precious little thing.” Francis clapped her hands like a child. Excitement poured off her in waves as she hummed her way down the hall.

It wasn’t lost on Dax how she referred to them as her children and laid claim to the grandchild as well, even though there was no DNA binding most of them together. Francis and Frank Reid were their parents for all intents and purposes. Even though some had good parents, they just gained extras. But for those like Dax, they were the best parental figures they had. This family wasn’t made by shared blood, its ties ran deeper.