The Solitude of Passion (62 page)

“He did?” Her brows arch unnaturally like a pair of overgrown fishhooks. Candi is beautiful in a made up, pageant queen kind of way but dumb as a doorpost. “Which one?”

I blink into my frustration. “Mitch.” His name bites through my chest.

“No kidding?” She snaps her gum and rearranges her deck. “He likes doing stuff like that on the side.” She tilts her head and gazes at the ceiling as if deep in thought. “You know—I’m kinda like you in that respect.”

“What respect?” Other than the boobs and the vagina, I doubt we have much in common.

“Having two husbands and all. I’ve been with Duane six years. We’re on and off like you and Mitch.”

My gut cinches. Mitch and I are not
on and off
. He was captured. Held prisoner. His fierce undying love brought him back to me, but something tells me this concept will transcend her single brain cell, so I don’t bother.

“So which one do you think you’ll choose?” I ask. “You know, you can only have the one.” I wag my ring finger in the air.

“True. But lucky for me, I get to choose whenever I feel like it. They don’t mind. It could be Hud one day, Duane the next. We’re gonna move in together like you guys.”

Great. I’m a shining example in the worst way possible. Stella probably dreams of her wedding day, walking down the aisle with two men beaming back at her.

I toss down the cards, trying to stave off tears, but I feel them coming up behind my lids, angry and violent like a prison riot. A knot swells in my throat, the size of a fist.

“I love them both,” I whisper.

“I know”—she reaches over and strokes my cheek—“and they love us.”

“I’m pretty sure they don’t love you, Candi,” I say, gazing at a stray, black stiletto. “They locked you in a closet. You’re sitting on the floor, very, very pregnant. They didn’t give you food or water. Have they asked once if you need to use the bathroom?”

A fire blooms in her eyes. “You’re right.” She struggles to rise before staggering to the door.

Candi pounds against the wood with relentless baby-like tremors, and it doesn’t come across as that urgent or impressive. “Du-
ane
get your ass up here right this effing minute and let me out! She don’t need me to calm her anymore.”

“Maybe you should try calling on your cell?” They took mine, but hers has been peering from her pocket the entire time. If she wasn’t with child I would have knocked her out hours ago.

She presses into her phone feverishly and listens, but they don’t pick up.

A sharp stench lights up my senses, and I crawl to the door. “You smell that?” It’s the distinct odor of smoke. I’ve been inhaling it for the last twenty-four hours. It’s tattooed inside my nostrils, but this is different, it’s fresh.

“Smells like barbeque. Whole damn town’s been on fire—makes me crave some good old fashioned baby-back.”

A puff of smoke curls from under the door and waves its necrotic finger.

It gives away all its deadly secrets in one soft whisper.

Mitch

It feels like hours drone by, but, in reality, it’s been less than five minutes. Hudson fills our ears with stories of pool, football, poker debts, and, for once, I’m proud to have Colton—the Count of Clitoris—as my brother.

“You fucked up real good this time.” Max bows his head.

Here we are sitting around, waiting, anticipating anything and everything.

The door cracks open, letting in a rush of cool night air. It takes the stench of four sweaty males out in a rush.

A tall guy with a shirt pulled over his face, pokes in. “Time to go.”

“They here?” Hudson glances up as if he’s caught off guard.

“There’s a problem,” he gruffs through his T-shirt. “It’s time to make tracks.”

Hudson moves to the door. “All right boys, change of plans.”

“What plans?” Max growls at him.

“Some of my old buddies are about to pay a visit.” Hudson sidesteps over to the talking T-shirt. “Told them I had all the money they needed. I’ll leave you jokers to tell them where to find it. Pay up boys”—he gives a wink— “your lives are at stake.”

“Pay with what?” Max barks.

“With whatever it takes. Just thought it up, too. You can thank your old lady for dropping by. Playing the part of Candi ain’t easy, and who knew you’d stop by to play the part of me and my good friend Duane.”

“Aren’t you glad,” it comes from me with an edge of grief because I see where this is leading, and I hope to God I’m wrong. “You want them to kill us, so you won’t have to look over your shoulder anymore.”

“You always were the smart one, Mitch.” He winks. “Time to roll.” He steps out and turns around. “Thank Lee for heading to Townsend. We never did think to make it look like you set the fire yourselves. But it was Candi who thought we should send you to Shepherd. Never in a million years did I think you’d fall for it.”

“Why’d you do it?” Max steadies his voice.

“I would have died in prison, buddy. A life for a life.”

“You couldn’t milk anymore money out of me. If you can’t get anything out of someone, you desert them just like you deserted Joshua. Let me refresh your memory. That’s your son.”

Hudson spits in his brother’s face, full throttle, leaving curdled phlegm that webs between his nose and eyelashes.

Hud and his buddy scuttle out and labor to secure the door shut. I’m already eyeing the small window near the ceiling as I listen to the sound of shouting followed by the roar of an engine.

“They’re rushing Candi out.” Colt says, while peering out of a hole from the distal corner. “She’s puking—
choking
.”

“Any sign of Lee?” I try to push him out of the way, but he won’t budge.

“Nope, just Candi.”

The sound of a car speeding away fills the night.

Colt pushes a metal shelf under the window, and cans of paint come crashing down with a clatter.

Max jumps up and peers out. “The house.” He knocks Colt out of the way, easy as a chess piece, and breaks the window with his fist.

“What?” I struggle to look out the tiny hole. All I see is smoke filling in the driveway. “That’s exhaust, right?” It strangles out of me because I know it’s not.

Holy shit.

I can’t help her. I can’t climb out that window or move fast enough to save Lee.

Fuck this.

I use Colt as a springboard and burst through the window, run through the smoke and into the house with its walls on fire.

“Lee?” I choke it out as I stumble in the white haze.

Shit.

Max skids in beside me.

“I’ll go this way.” I point to the right, and Max takes off in the other direction. I pull my T-shirt up over my nose and trip on the staircase. A rhythmic thumping comes from the wall, and I touch my hand to the plaster all the way up the stairwell.

She’s calling for help the only way she can. That has to be Lee. I follow the heartbeat until I land in an oversized bedroom filled with a thick veil of smoke.

“Lee?”

The pounding intensifies as I come up on the closet. A chair sits tucked under the knob, locking it from the outside. I throw it open and shut myself in—dizzy, struggling to catch a fresh breath.

Lee presses into me, her face cool and wet against mine as the smoke curls in. I run my lips over her hair, her eyes, her lips.

“Hold your breath.” I instruct through a series of hacking coughs.

I take her by the waist and lead her into the room already engulfed in flames. The heat sears over me, and I can feel my shirt trying to melt onto my flesh. I spot the balcony and head over, scalding the skin on my palm as I let us out and slam the door behind us.

A blast of cold night air hits us, and we gulp down the fresh night air.

Lee sobs into me. Her hair falls over her face as she molds her body to mine.

“God, I love you,” I whisper, pressing my lips to the top of her head.

The house burns around us as we take shelter on the small balcony overlooking the driveway.

We sputter and gasp as the smoke stings our eyes.

“You okay?” I ask, touching my hand down over the baby.

Lee looks up at me with her beautiful face and nods.

“Down here!” Max shouts up from the driveway. His clothes are blackened. His arms are covered with blood. “Lee!” He waves a hand over his head to get our attention.

The balcony jolts—a wall of glass explodes from behind, and I push Lee into my chest until it’s quiet again.

The fire extends over the frame of the door, licking the roof like a blowtorch.

“I love you,” I squeeze the words from my throat. We’re only two stories up, we can do this. “It’s been more than a gift to be your husband, Lee.”

She looks at me with those ocean blue eyes, and the peaceful look on her face startles me.

“You’re the universe to me, Mitch. You have to know that.” Lee presses her lips over mine, and the entire world stops spinning. The fire, the fields, it all fades away. It’s just Lee and me locked in our love—this kiss is the only event on the horizon.

“I’m glad you think so.” I scoop her into my arms and hoist her over the railing, ignoring the pain that’s electrifying my shoulder.

“No!” Lee lets out a curdling scream as her fingers claw at the ledge. “Don’t do this. I’ll hate you. I will
hate
you, Mitch!”

“We’ve run out of options.” I press another kiss over her lips. “
Max!
” I watch as he steadies himself beneath her. He holds his arms out, open and waiting, and he damn well better catch her.

Dear God, let this work.

“I love you, Lee.” I drop a kiss on her forehead and let her go slowly—watch her fall into Max’s waiting arms, safe and sound.

“
Yes
.” I let out a sigh of relief. Lee is safe—out of danger, away from the Townsend curse we’ve been held under for so long.

It’s done. Lee and the baby are going to be fine.

The fire licks at my scalp before biting down over my shoulder.

“Mitch!” Colt comes speeding toward me with the truck and parks beneath the balcony.

I flip my legs over the rail and stand on the ledge, my shirt smolders in flames as I ready myself to jump.

The smell of gas intensifies. An enormous roar rips through the night as the house detonates from behind. The earth shakes. A blinding light ignites the sky like the Fourth of July as I catapult off to the left—I try clawing my way back to the truck—to
Le
e
. I can hear the sirens—see the horror on my beautiful wife’s face as the stone driveway fast approaches.

I think of Stella and Eli, the baby that I know is mine. I think of what Lee and I have, what we’ve had for so long and how God smiled and let me see her again one last time. I think of Max—how we came full circle in the end and how I love him more than a brother.

Life happened. It came apart at the seams and sewed itself back together the way it was supposed to.

Somehow I know this to be true.

And the world claps to darkness.

My father comes to me, and this time it’s not a dream or some trauma-inspired hallucination.

“You ready, Mitch?” He holds out his hand.

I look around unsure of this new hazy world. “Is it really my time?”

“Your time was up five years ago, son. You were meant to die in that car fire along with the others—but you managed to garner one final act of mercy. Not too many people have a chance to make things right with the ones they love—to make peace with people and places.” He gives a little wink.

So this is it. I pan the chaos breaking out on Hudson’s driveway—my body lying motionless in the corner.

“Do I have a say?” I glare into my father because I already know the answer.

“Not this time.” He pats my back and tries to move me from the scene. “You were one of the lucky ones, Mitch. Don’t deny the gift you were given.”

I take a hiccupping breath as my gut pinches with grief, and marvel at how normal I still feel—and, yet, nothing will ever be normal again. Not for any of us.

“I guess I am one of the lucky ones, and so are Stella and Lee.” I look over to Max and offer a little smile. “They’re in good hands.” And this time I approve. I know he’ll take care of my family—love them just as much as I would.

Max and I somehow managed to fix things, and maybe, in a sense, it was a gift to do just that. I knew in my heart that everything was better between us. I could feel it there those last few weeks. It had all turned around, right back to how it used to be, with each of us hoping Lee would choose us—stronger than blood brothers. If I could change one thing, it would be to make things right with Max a whole lot sooner—hell, never to let them go wrong in the first place. We could have had so much more. But in the end, I’m glad I had a chance to come back and make things right.

I glance back down at Lee. “I love you deeper than the ocean, Lee Townsend”—my voice breaks as I glance at her beautiful face one last time—“Max, too.”

I guess you could love a lot of people deeper than the ocean.

Life is short.

You should.

Lee