From Ashes To Flames (A West Brothers Novel Book 1) Page 3

  My heart was heavy knowing what they were dealing with. I was only happy I didn’t add to it with a story filled with lies. Since I resigned, I left work well before quitting time. I arrived home much earlier than usual. My boyfriend, Damien, was home. His car was parked out in front of the duplex we shared. I sure was happy because I needed a shoulder to lean on and a good stiff drink.

  When I entered the apartment, I expected to see him in the living room with the TV on, but he wasn’t there. I plunked the banker’s box down on the dining room table then headed to the bathroom. As I turned the corner, I heard a moan. Then another, and then a series of Oh yesss, Damie, just like that. Keep it up.

  What the fuck. Damie? He likes to be called Damie? I was with him for over two years and never knew that.

  Using the bathroom fled right out of my mind. Seeing who my boyfriend was with and what they were doing, in my bed, took its place. I marched into the bedroom and got the shock of my life. Damien, or Damie, was going down on my best friend and apparently doing quite a fantastic job of it. His head was buried between her thighs and she was meowing like a starving cat. “Yessss, give it to me, right there. Oh, yesssss, Damie. Lick me good. Suck my bean. I love it when you do that little swirl. Yessss, that’s my favorite. You know how to do it. You’re the best pussy eater in the world.”

  He mumbled something about how great her pussy was, I think, but it was hard to tell for sure because he said it with his mouth against her. I was superglued to the carpet, rooted there by shock.

  The worst thing about this was Damien had only gone down on me once or twice in the whole time we’d been together. He told me he didn’t like to go down on a woman and here he was, the apparent master of it. That little fucker. I finally found my voice and decided to use it.

  “Oh yes, Damie, give it to her good. You’re the best pussy eater in the world.” I did my best job of mimicking my friend. I even added a meow at the end.

  Damien flew to his feet, naked as the day he was born. It was quite comical at the time, seeing his dick bob up and down. I almost laughed and would have, if I hadn’t been so furious.

  “Marin! What the hell are you doing here?”

  “I live here. It’s our home. Our bedroom. Our bed. Remember? Or has her pussy suddenly given you amnesia?”

  I stood there with my arms crossed, acting brave, but inside I was a quivering mess and everything was beginning to crush into tiny pieces. This was the man who said only the day before —a measly twenty-four hours ago—that he’d love me forever. Who only last night told me I was the Yin to his Yang, the cream to his Oreo. What the hell happened between then and now?

  “Uh, yeah, of course I remember.”

  “Then why the hell are you eating another woman’s pussy in my bed?”

  “It’s not what you think?”

  “It’s not what I think? What … do you think I’m blind? You’re naked and so is she. And from all accounts, both of you are having one helluva damn pussy party.” I peeked around him to see if I could look her in the eye. “And Dawn! How could you? Of all people, I would’ve expected better from you. You’re supposed to be my best friend.” Then I aimed my gaze back at Damien. “You’re fucking my best friend.” I balled up my fist and nailed him with an uppercut to his right jaw. His head snapped to the left and he actually groaned. Loud. Dawn screamed. “Shut up you two-timing whore. You’re next.” I stomped over to the side of the bed, ready to lay into her with my fist, only Damien grabbed me from behind.

  “Stop it. You can’t punch Dawn.”

  “Let me go.” I struggled like a demon-possessed madwoman until he released me. By this time, Dawn had rolled off the bed and I jumped on top of it, chasing her. “You fucking whore, get back here.”

  I did a flying leap, tackling her to the ground as she screamed. Then I grabbed her streaked blond hair and yanked it as hard as I could, practically pulling her to her feet. When I got a clear shot, I fired a jab at her cheek.

  Damien seized me by the shoulders and dragged me off of her. Dawn screamed at the top of her lungs, “She’s killing me.”

  “Shut the hell up, Dawn,” Damien yelled.

  I jumped on Damien’s back and knocked him in the head. He shook me off and I fell to the floor, hitting my own head.

  “Call the police,” Dawn yelled.

  “And say what?” Damien asked.

  “She attacked us,” Dawn said.

  “You would’ve done the same. She caught us naked in her bed for Christ’s sake.”

  I lay on the floor, catching my breath and stared at them. Then I sat up and in a defeated tone said, “You were the two people I trusted most in the world. Damien, just last night you told me how much you loved me. And you”—I pointed at Dawn—“you told me just the other day you thought Damien was going to propose soon.” Tears rolled down my cheeks, uninhibited. “Were you two planning the wedding together and then figuring out a way you could still fuck around behind my back?” Suddenly, I was sick to my stomach at the idea of this. I stood up on wobbly legs. I stared them down with cold eyes and spewed, “You two deserve each other. I’ll be back later for my things.” Then I pointed to the bed and spat, “That you can keep.”

  I felt physically ill. Leaving the room, I only stopped to grab the banker’s box on the dining table. Then I heard, “Marin, wait. Don’t go.”

  Seriously? A million dollars wouldn’t have made me stop. The idea of his hands on me after what I just witnessed was as disgusting as those of my former employer. But at least my former employer was sort of upfront about it. Damien had been lying and running around behind my back and how long had that been going on?

  I drove until I pulled into my parents’ driveway. Mom was shocked to see me. But one look told her more than she needed to know. When I broke down in her arms, she hugged me. I couldn’t tell her for days what happened. It came out in pieces when I finally did.

  Dad, being the lawyer he was, wanted to sue the magazine.

  “How? There was no evidence or proof of harassment.”

  “I wish you had called.”

  “Dad, I couldn’t work there anyway. They were unscrupulous. I don’t want to work for a publication like that.” He understood.

  Then I told them about Damien and Dawn. Mom was hurt too because she really loved Dawn. We met right after college and were roommates until Damien and I moved in together. Dawn was the one who urged me to date him. I tried to piece in my mind when they could’ve gotten together, but it was a blank. I stopped thinking about it because every time I did, it upset me too much.

  A month later, my parents’ frustration with me grew. I’d given up finding a job as a journalist. My attitude went to hell over the profession after my experience and though my gut told me I was wrong, my jaded belief had every news publication lumped in with Newsworthy Magazine. I no longer trusted any media source and gave up on the whole idea of working in journalism period.

  I ended up bartending, coming home right before the sun rose, and sleeping until I had to be at work the next day. I dyed my hair the colors of the rainbow in an attempt the bring some cheer into my life. It didn’t work. Mom and Dad flipped out.

  “How will you ever find a respectable job now? I can see tinting your hair but that … that is downright shocking, Marin.” Mom’s eyes held a bucketful of disappointment. The daughter she’d been so proud of only a few years before was now letting her down. But I didn’t have the energy to change. I lived in the lower level of their home, hiding from friends, and the only activity I had other than work, was riding my skateboard. It was something I’d enjoyed in my college years and hadn’t done since I’d met Damien. I’d abandoned everything I did with him, ridding myself of the hurt he’d inflicted.

  “You look like one of those skater kids I see at the park on weekends.”

  “Maybe I want to look like that,” I said.

  “But why?” Mom asked. Dad stared in mute shock.

  I shrugged a shoulder and played with one
of my new earrings. I’d had my ears pierced several more times, along with an eyebrow and my nose.

  “Maybe I like that look,” I said with defiance.

  By now, Mom stood in front of me, inspecting me. “You never used to. Are you on drugs?”

  “What?”

  “Drugs? Are you taking them?”

  Throwing my arms in the air, I yelled, “No. Just because my hair is colorful does not mean I’m on drugs. You guys are really something.”

  Dad stepped forward. “Young lady, do not use that tone with your mother. You have to agree with us on some things. There has been a drastic change in your looks and behavior. You don’t socialize, you don’t do anything but work in that bar, and skateboard. We’re worried about you.”

  “Thanks, but I’m fine.” I didn’t need any reminders of what was wrong in my life. I was fully aware of everything. It was why I was a damn hermit. My intestines twisted in pain every time I thought of how I ended up in this place.

  Mom tapped my arm. “Honey, you’re not fine. Why don’t you talk to someone?”

  “Who?”

  Mom and Dad glanced at each other before she answered. “How about a therapist to help get you through this?”

  I held out my hand, palm facing them. “Oh, no you don’t. You keep them the hell away from me. I’ll figure this out. Just give me a little more time. Okay?”

  Five months later, after I’d lost my job as a bartender for being consistently late and had nothing to do in over a month, Mom and Dad came into my room one morning and made an announcement.

  Dad began, “This is it. We’re done. You can’t continue like this.”

  Mom stepped in. “Honey, we love you to the stars and back, and then some, but you’re wasting your life away. So, we’ve made some new arrangements for you.”

  “Arrangements?”

  “Yes, arrangements,” Mom said. “A friend of mine has a son. His wife tragically died in a plane crash and he is in need of a live-in nanny. You’re hired. You leave today. You’ll move in with him and take care of his two children.”

  “What? No. I can’t. Nope. Kids and I are like oil and water.”

  “You don’t have a choice, Marin. It’s either that or the streets,” Dad said. He was serious as hell.

  “Dad, please.” I used my best begging voice.

  “Nope. I can’t watch you live like this another day.”

  My stomach crashed to the floor. What the fuck was I going to do? I was an only child. I never even so much as babysat. I voiced those concerns.

  “You’ll figure it out,” Mom said, sounding all chipper. “You’re pretty resourceful and bright if I do say so myself.”

  Dad opened the blinds and added, “Take a shower and start packing. You need to be there by one.”

  “How old?”

  “What?” Mom asked.

  “How old? The kids.” I figured I should know that going in.

  “Oh, yes.” She chuckled. “I guess that would be helpful. The daughter, Kinsley is six, or maybe she just turned seven, and the son, Aaron is ten months.”

  I was so fucking fucked. I’d never even changed a diaper and here I was getting ready to be a nanny for a ten-month-old. What the hell was I going to do?

  Chapter Four

  Greydon—Six Months later

  * * *

  Kinsley turned seven today and it was a disaster. When Mom brought out the cake, she threw a tantrum. She wanted to know when her mommy was coming to eat a piece.

  “Kinsley, remember, she lives with the angels now,” I explained.

  “I want her to come and eat cake with me. Why can’t she leave the angels just for one piece?” She stomped her foot as she spoke.

  My heart had malfunctioned. Though I was a cardiologist, specifically an electrophysiologist, who repaired hearts with faulty rhythms, I was helpless. If someone needed a pacemaker, no problem. If they had an arrhythmia, I could do an ablation or get them back into rhythm by whatever means was necessary. I was the guy who handled the heart’s electrical issues. But I couldn’t fix my own broken down heart. All the circuitry had failed. The wiring was malfunctioning and nothing I did helped. It wasn’t so much because of losing my wife. It was because of the kids, specifically my daughter. What was even worse, I watched my little girl, my adorable, sweet polka dot, and I was helpless to ease her pain and disappointment that her mother wouldn’t be sharing her birthday cake this year.

  “Hey, polka dot. Come here a sec.” She walked over to where I stood. I crouched down to her and said, “Look, Mommy can’t come. It’s not because she doesn’t want to, but because she just can’t.”

  Kinsley pushed away from me and marched to the table where her cake sat. “I don’t want this cake.” Then she shoved it to the floor.

  “Kinsley. Clean that up now.”

  She didn’t pay any attention to me but instead ran up the steps to her room. Hudson’s four-year-old son, Wiley, ran after her while Hudson chased him.

  Mom grabbed my arm. “Grey, it’s time to man up and stop being so self-centered.”

  “Huh?” My daughter had just exhibited a horrible act of rude behavior and Mom was telling me I was self-centered?

  “You heard me. Your kids need you and you’re not spending enough time with them. This is what happens. You can’t blame her for acting like that. My guess is you haven’t even explained that Susannah is never coming home again.”

  I was appalled. “I told Kinsley she was with the angels.”

  Mom put a hand on her hip. Oh boy, she meant business now. “For how long?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “How long did you say Susannah would be gone?”

  An exasperated sigh exploded out of me. My head clanged. “I didn’t.”

  “Kids need a time stamp on everything. You can’t just say she went there. You have to say it’s forever. And for God’s sake, quit feeling sorry for yourself.”

  Now I was pissed off. “I’m not, dammit. If you want to know the truth, I’m mad as hell at Susannah. She was fucking her co-worker and then ran off on a business trip and got herself killed, leaving me holding the bag.”

  Mom’s mouth flopped open for one second. But that was it. “Oh, and the plane crash was her fault I suppose.”

  “What?”

  “The plane crash? It was her fault,” Mom repeated.

  “No, it wasn’t.”

  “Like I said, man up. You need to put your feelings behind you and think of your kids.”

  “I am.”

  “Like hell you are. I’m sorry your wife wasn’t faithful. I truly am, son. But had she come home, you would’ve fought and divorced. Would you be carrying on like this? You used to be the best father around. I was so proud of the way you were with Kinsley. I remember how she was when you’d come home from work. I saw that man, Grey. I witnessed it with my own eyes. I used to be here when Susannah traveled. That man is gone. You act like you don’t give a shit about your children. The tenderness is absent. You’re a completely different man, and you can’t continue like this.”

  She was right. My mind flipped back to those days before Aaron was born, and I would be home taking care of Kinsley when Susannah was gone.

  “Dadddddy!” She ran up to me with her arms held out.

  “Hey there, polka dot. What have you been doing?” I asked, as I lifted her up in the air and spun her around. Her squeals of delight were like a balm to me after a long day at work.

  “Playing with Gammie. We were making pictures. See?” She pointed to the table where her paper and crayons were spread out.

  “Let’s take a look.” I carried her there, reluctant to set her down. She had a way of putting a warm glow in my heart. It was a kind of feeling that didn’t come from anything else and couldn’t be described unless you experienced it yourself through your own kids. We sat at the table, her in my lap, and she showed me all of her art drawings, which weren’t much more than stick figures. Still, I ooohed and aaahed over them
because my sweet, adorable child had created them for me.

  “Let’s put them up on the refrigerator because they’re perfect. I love all of them.” So, we went and stuck them there so I could see them every day.

  “Grey, are you even listening to me,” Mom said, bringing me back to the present.

  “Yes, Mom. I am.” Guilt stung me like a thousand hornets. My behavior since Susannah died had been horrible. But I couldn’t seem to pull myself out of this … funk I was in. Was I making excuses? Maybe. But no matter what I did, including my visits to the shrink, nothing worked. I hated myself for it too. Mom was right. I needed to make some serious changes.

  Dad and Pearson walked into the room. Dad said, “I got Aaron in the swing. How’s the cake cutting going?” They took in the mess on the floor. Then Dad’s head bobbed back and forth between the two of us and he asked, “Oh, boy, what did I miss? Did she tell you to stop feeling sorry for yourself?”

  Pearson disappeared. I didn’t blame him.

  I huffed, “Yeah, she did.”

  “She’s exactly right, son.”

  “You too, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  Even though I knew she was right, I still felt such a deep betrayal by what my wife had done, I wanted Dad’s absolution. “Mom, tell him about Susannah.”

  “She was having an affair. He already knows.”

  “You can’t do much about that now, can you, son?” Dad asked.

  If I thought I’d get sympathy from my parents, I was dead wrong.

  “If I could impart a little wisdom here, learned from my advanced age.”

  My brows shot up because my dad was in his early sixties but didn’t look close to that.

  “When you kids were born, and we were in the thick of things, we didn’t think about the time factor. But then one day we woke up and in an instant, you were leaving for college. Time passes in a snap, Grey. I’m not kidding. I’m begging you, don’t let what Susannah did ruin what you have with your kids. Love them. That’s all you have to do. Other than listen to your mother.”