Facade (26 page)

“It’s not easy… There are still days I take off just to get away or times I’m still so fucking
angry
, but I’m trying. I’m doing better.”

The words are impossible to hold back anymore. “You should be so proud of yourself, Adrian. That’s awesome. You’re making him proud.”

He nods his head. “Yeah… I think I am.”

“I will never forgive myself for not being honest with you in the beginning. It was wrong of me and I know that.” He’s not looking at me, but I need him to. I do the thing he’s done so many times to me, hooking my finger under his chin and turning his face. “I need you to know, what I felt, the things I said, I didn’t fake any of that. All of it was real and it still is. I love you and I’m so proud of you.”

He touches my face again like he did in the diner. “So serious, Little Ghost.” He’s all intensity and sincerity and the words flood through me.

“I am. I’m not good with words like you are, but I can tell you I love you. You say I haunt you, but it’s you who haunts me. You made me happy for the first time in four years. You inspire me and your words are a part of me and you make me feel strong. I never realized it, but I never felt strong before. I let Maddox run my life and tried to save people who didn’t want to be saved. I know I can’t do that anymore. It’s not up to me and you taught me that.”

“I did all that?” One of his eyebrows rises.

“Stop.” I’m laughing and crying at the same time.

“Don’t cry, Little Ghost.”

His words make me cry harder.

“Shhh.” And then he’s wiping my tears. I’m nuzzling his hand. “I missed you. I wanted to hate you, but I couldn’t. I know it wasn’t your fault, but it’s hard when it’s all tied together like that, but then… I read
The Count
again after you gave it to me. I remember reading it and always looking up to Edmond. Even when I was a kid because he beat the odds. He beat his shitty life and prison and everything else. But I realized he didn’t have what was important. Edmond ended up alone and I already lost Ash… I don’t want to lose you too.”

I swear my heart leaps out of my chest. I feel weak and like I’m invincible at the same time. “Adrian—”

“Shhh,” he says again. “I have to get this out. I can’t promise I’ll be perfect. Hell, I know I won’t be and I have a whole lot of shit I’m still dealing with, but… I can’t get you out of me. Your smile’s in my head and your voice in my ear.”

I’m crying and smiling and so full of Adrian I’m bursting at the seams.

“You helped me stop bleeding. You made my heart beat when I thought it was gone. All those things you said I do for you? They’re nothing compared to what you do for me.”

“Adrian—”

“Stop interrupting me.” He smiles and I smile. I don’t think I’ll ever stop doing it again. “You reminded me what it feels like to love. You made me fall in love and, fuck, I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose you.”

Unable to stop myself anymore, I lunge at him. He catches me as he falls against the back of the couch. “Kiss me.”

So I do. I kiss him and his taste is a burst of familiarity. His tongue teases my lips and then finds its way inside. He’s kissing me and then standing, my legs wrapped around his waist. Adrian walks to my room and I kick the door closed behind me and then we’re falling to my bed, our mouths still fused together.

“Let me make love to you, Little Ghost.”

“Yes.” I arch toward him and he kisses me again. And then all our clothes are gone and he’s putting a condom on and this time when we come together, we’ve stepped out from behind our façades. The masks are gone and we’re naked together for the first time.

“I love you,” he says.

I look at him. This amazing man who’s been through so much. “I love you too.”

My hands are fucking shaking so bad I can hardly stand it.

“You’re doing great,” Delaney tells me as I park the car.

“I’m losing it,” I tell her. “But I’m here. I’m doing it.”

She leans over and kisses me. Christ, I still can’t believe I’m here. I can’t believe I’m with this incredible girl and that I’m about to get out and go see my son for the first time in four years. God, I need it, though. Need to talk to him.

We get out of the car and make our way through the cemetery and over to Ash’s tiny grave. I close my eyes, not wanting to see it, but fuck if I don’t need to for him. I need to do this for my son and I will, so I open them up and kneel on the ground.

I read his name, Ashton Adrian Westfall.

Loving son and nephew.

“I think I overdid it on the
A
s.” I try to laugh, but it doesn’t really work.

“It’s a perfect name,” Delaney replies.

“Yeah… you’re right. I think it is.”

I study his grave some more. “Hey, Ash. It’s… it’s me, Daddy.”

Laney sniffs and I know she’s crying next to me. My eyes are wet, too, one of the tears escaping down my face.

“I miss you. I miss you so much, little man.” I reach out and trace the letters of his name. “And I’m sorry. So sorry I didn’t do better for you, but it was never because I didn’t love you. I’m going to start coming to see you too.”

It’s more than a tear now. It’s like a race to see how many can make it down.

“I won’t let you be lonely anymore, okay? We’ll come all the time and I’ll tell you stories. I’ll write a new one for you every time.”

My ghost’s hand is on my shoulder. She doesn’t interrupt, just lets me talk. I tell my son that at twenty-two I’m going to school next year. That I’m going to work on telling more stories and maybe one day other people will read them. I tell him I was wrong when I told him about the Count. That he isn’t someone to look up to. That I probably never even should have talked to him about it in the first place.

And I tell him everything I do from now on will be for him. How his auntie fights for him and how I want to do the same.

We’re out there for over an hour talking to Ash. To my son.

Each word makes me feel stronger. Better. I know I have a long way to go, but I’ll keep fucking going because he never had the chance. I’ll go for him.

Finally, I stand up. Delaney’s right behind me. “We have to go, little man. I’ll be back soon. I love you.”

She latches her hand with mine and we walk to the car. We drive the few hours back home, to the apartment she used to share with her brother that I now share with her.

Colt’s outside, messing with Chey’s car when we get there.

“Fucking piece of shit,” he says.

I laugh as I walk over to him. “Don’t blame the car because you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Then shut up and help me.” He tosses me a wrench, which I catch.

“I’m going to go upstairs. I’ll see you later,” Delaney says. She leans forward to my ear and whispers, “You did great today. Don’t forget you have to go see Lettie in a couple hours.” She doesn’t pay me for helping her anymore and she still gives me shit the whole time I’m there, but she also cried when I came back. We’ve talked about Ash and I found out she lost a daughter.

I nod and kiss my girl before she goes upstairs and then I lean over to look at the engine.

“You went to see Ash?” Colt asks.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

We’re quiet for a minute, screwing around under the hood of Cheyenne’s car and then he says, “It gets easier. Going, I mean. It fucking killed me the first time I saw Mom.”

“Yeah?” I ask him.

“Yeah,” he replies again.

We keep working on the car. He talks about his mom and I talk about Ash. I think about Delaney upstairs. The woman I fucking love so much it’s crazy. How she’s probably sitting there talking to Colt’s girl, whose like a sister to me. And my best friend standing next to me. My sister back home who I talk to every day.

I realize I’m lucky. There’s an ache inside me that will never go away. I’ll always keep his shirt and always write for him. He’ll always be in my heart and in my head, but I also know I’ll be just fine, with these people in my life, and for him, I’ll be okay.

I have so many people to thank for this that I’m not sure where to begin. First, to my husband. Your support is invaluable. I couldn’t do this without your love, faith, and sacrifices. To my two beautiful little girls for asking about my writing and showing me how proud you are of me. I wish I had been as cool as you are at your age! My mom because you’ve always had faith in me. Thanks for giving me wings and teaching me not to be afraid to fly. Wendy Higgins, I couldn’t do what I do without you. You’re my confidant, my best friend, and the most wonderful critique partner a girl could have. To my other beta readers, Jolene Perry for all your help and Morgan Shamy for brainstorming with me. Big thanks to Allie Brennan for dealing with my obsessiveness over covers. HUGE thanks to the readers of Charade, who were so supportive and wonderful. Jane Dystel and all the folks at Dystel and Goderich, I am honored to have you in my corner. You are the definition of hard work and dedication. And to my editor, Latoya Smith. There are not enough words to thank you. Thanks for seeing something in my work, for believing in my writing, and for helping make my dreams come true. Last but not least, to everyone at Grand Central Publishing. I still can’t believe I am able to say I write for Grand Central. Thank you for taking a chance on me. I hope to do you proud. There are so many other people who made this possible. Know that I didn’t forget you. I thank you all.

From a very young age, Nyrae Dawn dreamed of growing up and writing stories. It always felt as if publication were out of her grasp—one of those things that could never happen, so she put her dream on hold.

Nyrae worked in a hospital emergency room, fell in love, and married one of her best friends from high school. In 2004 Nyrae, her husband, and their new baby girl made a move from Oregon to Southern California and that’s when everything changed. As a stay-at-home mom for the first time, her passion for writing flared to life again.

She hasn’t stopped writing ever since.

Nyrae has a love of character-driven stories and emotional journeys. She feels honored to be able to explore those things on a daily basis and get to call it work.

With two incredible daughters, an awesome husband, and her days spent writing what she loves, Nyrae considers herself the luckiest girl in the world. She still resides in sunny Southern California, where she loves spending time with her family and sneaking away to the bookstore with her laptop.

Nyrae Dawn’s powerful series continues…

See the next page for a preview of

Masquerade.

~Bee~

It’s almost perfect. The only thing missing as I stand in the middle of Masquerade is the constant buzz of a tattoo gun. After the past few years, it’s my form of comfort. Like a lullaby that sings me to sleep, massaging the tension out of my muscles. But at the same time, it shoots adrenaline into my veins, bringing me happiness—something that’s mine and will always belong to me.

Yes, I need to hurry up and open the doors to my tattoo parlor before I go crazy for that lullaby.

I play the words again in my head:
my tattoo parlor
. They’re scary as hell and exhilarating at the same time. I’m not sure many twenty-one-year-olds can say they’ve already worked in five shops, but none of those places belonged to me. This one will stick. I’ll stick. I have to, for a lot of reasons. One of them being that despite the fact that it’s my name on all the paperwork for Masquerade, my parents footed the bill.

It doesn’t matter that I’m paying them back, only that they did it. After everything I’ve put them through—after the way that I struggle so much to love them the way they do me—they did it.

Walking over, I straighten one of the frames filled with tattoos I’ve done. To the right of it is the one and only workstation here. It’s exactly what I need, small without too many places to make a mess. Growing up, my parents—shit… I shake my head, Melody and Rex—had both been artists. They would get lost in their zone and the house would be a mess with supplies, but it didn’t matter because they were happy.

Then I went back home and everything was different. They were happy just like Melody and Rex, but not in the same way. They didn’t get so deep in their art that they’d forget dinner and then order a pizza, which we would all laugh over later.

No, my real parents were perfect.
Are
perfect, and even after eight years, it’s still hard for me to be the person they need me to be instead of the one I was.

But I try. For them, I try.

“Christ,” I mumble, not sure why I’m feeling so introspective today. I’m a single girl in a new town. What I need to do it get out and have some fun.

After locking up Masquerade, I climb into my Honda Insight and drive to my apartment. It doesn’t take me much time to get ready. I keep my blond hair down. It’s long, hanging past the middle of my back. I put on a black spaghetti-strap tank top with silver studs on it. It shows the couple tattoos I have, the two on each of my shoulders and the other above my breast. Slipping on a pair of black heels, I walk to the bathroom and change out the small diamond stud in my nose and then I’m out the door.

It’s not like Brenton is very big, so it doesn’t take me much time to find a bar that looks like it could be a good time. It’s about 10:00 p.m., so a little early, but all I want to do is have a drink and relax anyway. More than that and I’d have to take a cab.

Music pulses through the speakers when I walk in, and I suddenly feel a tinge of guilt for being here pulling at me. I guess my real dad got lost in the bottle for a while after I was kidnapped. I hate using that word because it makes it sound like they were horrible to me. Anyway, he’s okay now. They’re
those
kinds of people. They make it through everything together, but I wonder if they’d be disappointed I’m here.

No
, I tell myself.
There’s nothing wrong with having a beer once in a while.