Mend the Seams (Buried Secrets 3)

“Luke Ashton. Get your ass in here now!” I look over my shoulder and see she has the covers pulled back and the kids squished to her side, makin’ room for me to join them. A grin tugs up on my lips and I pad into the bedroom and join my family for the kids’ bedtime story.

Savannah opens the book, then presses a kiss to each Brailee and Braden’s head before pressing one to my cheek.

“Woah, woah. Did you just KISS Luke, Momma!?” Brailee squeals, her voice sounds excited, urgent and scared.

“Brailee,” Savannah warns her, her brow shootin’ up high into her forehead – a look I’ve never seen on her face before. Apparently, that’s the mom look. “I want you and Braden to understand that Momma loves you both and I’ll always put you both first in my life. I’ll always do what is best for you two. Y’all know that Luke is Momma’s friend, and he’s taken care of our family a lot over these last few months.” The twins shake their heads, hangin’ onto her every word like they know somethin’ monumental is about to be voiced. “Luke makes Momma happy. Luke loves y’all. So, we’re gonna live here, in Luke’s home with him. And you might hear Luke call me sweetheart and we might hug or kiss each other from time to time. Because that’s what people do when they care about one another. How do y’all feel about Momma being with Luke?” Savannah is always honest with her kids. Brailee smiles and hugs Savannah, then me.

“Momma, I love Luke, too. I’m happy he’s with us. We’re a family now.” My baby girl completely clenches my heart. I’ve doubted this blended family issue for a while, but it’s never caused me so much anxiety like it has today. Hearin’ Brailee say she loves me and I’m her family, truly touches my heart.

Braden seems a bit stunned, his mouth hangs open wide and his eyes are as big as saucers as he looks from Savannah to me.

“Ya alright, little man?” I ask him.

He nods his head up and down real fast and says, “This is so awesome. My momma is datin’ SUPERMAN!” A roil of laughter burst from my chest. I tug Braden closer to my chest and ruffle up his hair. Since he saw my Superman tattoo, the one over my heart in honor of my son, Sawyer, he’s been convinced that I am invincible.

“Alright y’all, we got that squared away. Let’s get settled in before it gets too late.” Savannah snuggles the kids close to her side, then links her fingers through mine, before opening the book and beginnin’ the story.

“Once upon a time,” she begins to read and with those first four words my mind trails off, lost in thought of my own fairytale.

Never believed my life would be whole again, not after losin’ Alyson and Sawyer. Although the pain of losin’ my family will never cease, findin’ Savannah was my fate. Our worlds collided like vehement waves of the perfect storm thrashing through the sea. Neither of us expected it, but both of us needed to be saved from our own pain and destruction. We have both given as much as we’ve received. Savannah gave me the strength to overcome the battles within myself and clung to me as if I were the only person who could salvage what was left of her life. Somehow together, we were able to mend the seams of each-others’ hearts.

Chapter Twenty Four

“Moore!” The guard shouts against the glass, clinkin’ his baton against the heavy steel door. “Scoot your ass. Gotta visitor.”

I continue my pushups ignorin’ the fucker, concentrating on my ragged breathing as I fight through the rage that consumes me. It’s never gonna dissipate. I had hoped that by setting Savannah free, somewhere deep inside my blackened heart I’d find peace. I was fuckin’ wrong. I’m at an even stronger war with myself now, the demons that I’ve tucked away for so long rearing their fuckin’ heads, tormenting and teasing me. After signing the divorce petition, I had a real bad fuckin’ day. Unfortunately, so did the fuckin’ prick who tried to rush me off the weight bench. The anger had been brewin’ for too damn long and I exploded, beatin’ his fuckin’ face against the concrete wall of the weight room. So I’m slummin’ it down in Solitary. And let me tell you, that hell I was livin’ in is the damn Ritz fuckin’ Palace compared to the bowels of Solitary confinement. I can smell the raw sewage seepin’ into the cracked basement walls, rats and mice runnin’ amuck, crawlin’ on me in my sleep.

“Final warning, asshole, or I’m tazin’ your big ass!” The guard barks out his warning maliciously. I press up to my feet and stride to the steel door placing my hands through the slot. He snaps the cuffs in place, instructs me to step back then slams the door open.

“Who the hell’s here for me?” I ask as he leads me through the corridor, silently hoping that it’s Savannah. I know it’s farfetched. After all she owes me nothing when I owe her everything. But it would be nice to apologize for wrecking her life face to face. Written words on a slip of paper can never do justice to the spoken word. At least then she could see that it’s heartfelt and endearing.

He shoots me a cocky sneer saying, “Fuck if I know who she is, but I wouldn’t mind findin’ out.”

He best pray to God he ain’t talkin’ ‘bout Savannah, or I’ll break his damn jaw. I’m shocked to have a visitor. James McCoy hasn’t been here since I signed the divorce petition a few weeks ago, and when I call asking for information about my case I get his secretary’s bitchy attitude and lame excuses which I’m fuckin’ tired of. I’m payin’ him good money to pull my ass from this hell, yet it seems he’s only workin’ to keep me in here longer. Drew, well, that fuck turned his back on me the moment our plan unraveled, feedin’ me to the lions to save his own greedy ass.

Instead of taking me to the inmate visitation room, the guard shuffles me down a separate corridor and into a private room which is empty. “Where the fuck is she?” I growl, craning my neck to look at him.

“Sit your ass down and be patient, Moore.” He shoves me down into the seat and I cast him a piercin’ scowl. Pisses me the fuck off bein’ touched, these bastards having control over me like this.

He slams the door closed, leaving me in silence while I wait for the mystery visitor. I know it ain’t Savannah or they’d sent me to the inmate visitation room, not here.

My patience begins to wear thin, the clock tickin’ on the wall the only sound filling the stark silence. After ten minutes, the door swings open and I glance up momentarily to see a suited prick and legs with long blonde tendrils stride into the small room. I cast my eyes back down to the peeling table top, brooding and angry from waiting so damn long. They both sit down scooting their chairs forward and the prick places a thick file on top of the table.

“Mr. Moore, it’s been a while.” I look up hearing the familiar voice and my jaw tics when recognition of the leggy blonde washes over me.

“What the hell, Alisa? Where’s James and who the fuck is this stiff clown? I didn’t ask for a damn substitute counsel so y’all can pack your asses back to James and tell him he needs to get his shit together!” I bark out, frustration clawing through my skin.

“Mr. Moore, my name is Agent Warren and I’m with the FBI. We’d like to ask you a couple questions.”

“Fuck’s goin’ on Alisa? Why would James allow a fuckin’ Fed to question me and send you in his place?” I bark out.

“Josh, I’m not here in James’ place.” She reaches into her bag and slides a small identification card across the table and I pick it up, twisting it in my cuffed hands to look at it. At first I don’t recognize the woman in the photo, but the harder I look, the more and more I can see it. Her hair is different, instead of the long platinum blonde tendrils of curls she wears now, in the photographs it as dark as night, neatly pinned at the nape of her neck. The seductive smile that usually graces her fuck me lips is pursed into a thin line in the photo, but her eyes are exactly the same.

I sling the card back in her direction and shoot up outta the chair, my eyes blurring over as rage fills my chest. “You’re a fuckin’ federal agent?” I shout.

“Yes, I am.” She confirms, confidently.

“Well ain’t this some fucked up shit.” I chuckle. This just keeps getting better and better. Alisa has been James McCoy’s secretary for a couple of years now. She’s also the office slut who fucks both James and Drew, hard tellin’ how many other clients she’s fucked. “Why the hell you here then, Alisa? Hell, you have all you’d need to toss all three of us under the fuckin’ prison. So tell me, why am I in here alone, while Drew and James both have their damn freedom?”