Page 128 of Lesson In Forgiveness

The clubhouse was filled to the rafters with people, a beautiful mix of genders, race, lifestyles, and kink. Clothing ranged from elegant gowns and tuxedos to masquerade costumes—the formal invitations sent out stated no dress code, and it seemed the future membership had taken that to heart.

He watched as a trio of Littles ran past in a flurry of giggles, their modest gingham dresses fluttering around their knees as they dashed toward their Daddies. He’d already seen a handful of puppies and a pony exploring their play areas with their Masters, and for a moment, the joy on their faces had been infectious…

Until the poison in him killed it dead.

“Here, you look like you need this.”

Grit turned his head, locking eyes with Elias before his gaze dropped to the glass in the Dom’s hand. He accepted it reluctantly, still ashamed of the week he’d spent in his hotel room, pouring cheap scotch down his throat one bottle at a time as he tended Tabitha’s pillow like a sick child. “Thanks.”

“We’ll make something of this place,” Eli said casually, looking around with obvious pride. “I never really doubted it, but when you pump enough capital into creating something of this magnitude, insecurities creep in. But this… this is the foundation of a family, the very roots of what Van intended to build. Some are here just to be nosy, some will make an impression and move on after a time. Some will find a home here and become more than friends.”

“The community needs a place like this.”

“And what about you, my friend? What do you need?”

Grit raised the glass and sipped, wondering how to deflect the question without offending a man who’d become important to him. “More of this would be a start.”

A grunt of disapproval. “I damn near drowned you in the shower to sober you up once, Grit. I’d rather not go through that trauma a second time.” Blue eyes sympathetic, he sighed. “We kept the security chief position open for you. We still believe you’re the best man for the job; right now, you need to come home. Be part of something positive. Find your family again.”

His jaw clenched tight. The one person he wanted as his family, the woman he’d set in the center of his world, was in a pine box, six feet deep, in a place he didn’t know.

For the first week, he’d wallowed in scotch, ignoring everyone who reached out. By the second, he’d cut everyone out of his life—moved hotels, changed his phone number, locked himself in a box of mourning that was more of a trap than a safe place of healing.

Within a month, he’d sold everything of value he owned, packed a bag, and headed out to see if he could find any semblance of peace without his little tiger by his side.

She’d dogged his every step, haunted his dreams, dominated his thoughts.

In true Tabitha fashion, she continued to stalk him.

Tossing the rest of his drink down in a single, burning swallow, Grit handed him the glass back. “Thanks for the invite, Eli, and the drink. I think it’s time—”

“I’ll have you gagged and hogtied before you step foot outside this building.” The threat was sincere, it was clear in Eli’s tone. “You’ve been running for months, Rory. Cutting people out of your life to protect yourself without giving a damn what effect it’s had on those people. The people who love you.”

Throat squeezing, Grit shook his head.

“There’s a choice waiting for you tonight, and it’s not the one you might expect. There is a family here for you now, if you choose to be part of it.” Elias stepped in front of him, grasping his shoulders to circle him towards the door. “If not, you can go home to the ones who loved you first and love you still.”

Fuck. His eyes burned as he noticed the group standing in front of the double doors with their full attention on him. His already broken heart, still open and raw from Tabby’s loss, gained fresh bruises as he saw their expressions.

Avalon had come to Serenity.

“Or we can make a home together,” said a quiet voice from behind him.

Christ, that scotch was addling his mind faster than anticipated, he thought, if Tabitha’s ghost was visiting him so early in the evening. He often caught her scent when he least expected it, a subtle blow to his fragile grief when it teased him, and sometimes he thought he heard her laugh when the night was long and the shadows dark.

Still, the temptation was too great.

Slowly, waiting for the gut punch when he found emptiness, he turned around.

The blow missed his stomach and struck him in the heart. Breath ragged, he felt his knees buckle slightly, but he forced them to hold his weight as he reached out a hand to the incredibly lifelike hallucination before him.

Tabitha waited, a vision in a sleekly elegant dress only a shade darker than her eyes. Her hair was a few inches longer, still the same silky white blonde, but threads of blue filtered between the layers.

A hallucination had never been more beautiful.

When his fingertips touched soft, warm skin, a jolt ran up his arm. She was real, which was… impossible. Skimming her cheek, her jaw, her mouth, he still couldn’t believe it. Not even when his palm settled fully against her cheek as it used to do.

“You died.” There was a hint of accusation in his voice.

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