Page 244 of The Tempted

Chapter Twenty

“Dad?”

I turned around slowly, searching for the face of an unfamiliar voice that called out to me, but found nothing but darkness.

“Dad, it’s me,” the young man’s voice said.

Again, I frantically spun around only to hear the laughter of a young man.

“Jack? Where are you?” I called into the darkness.

“Over here,” he said chuckling like any young kid would who was teasing their old man. I followed the voice, turning slightly to my left. My heart lurched inside my chest as I came face to face with the young man I never got to know. He wore a Yankee cap, propped down low shadowing half of his face. I watched as he lifted his hands, turned the cap backward and displayed his face to me. Gone was the baby face of the boy I lost, the chubby cheeks now slender, his jaw more pronounced, his nose thinner and more prominent. He had his mama’s green eyes and from what I could see peeking out from the ends of his cap, he had my black hair, dark as night. His smile stopped my aching heart, revealing two perfect dimples. His lips quirked, much like mine seldom do as he stared at me.

“Is it really you?” I asked the teenager.

“It’s really me, Dad,” he confirmed. Then the smile fell from his face and he glanced down toward his feet as he whispered the words that broke the rest of my shattered heart.

“Miss you, Dad.”

I reached for him, desperate to hold him, to touch, to feel the child I loved in my arms.

But he faded before my very eyes.

“Jack,” I screamed into the darkness.

I jolted awake, sitting up, my eyes trying to focus in the dark searching for my son, only to realize I had been dreaming. I released a ragged breath, fighting back the emotions that tormented me, and ran my fingers through my hair.

What I wouldn’t give for just one more day.

I dropped my head back against my pillow, turning slightly and stared at Reina. She was sleeping on her belly, her face turned toward me. I flipped onto my side, moving her hair away from her face and watched as she slept.

So peaceful.

So beautiful.

Mine.

My fingertips traveled down the length of her over my leather vest she still wore. I was losing what was left of my mind. That was the only logical explanation for why I made her wear it, why I never wanted her to take the fucking thing off. My hands traveled down to her hip where fire tortured her skin. I recalled the apprehension in her eyes as I kissed her there, my fingers working the scars, trying to erase them from her memory.

They were horrific, tragic, but it was no lie when I said they were beautiful. How could something that told the story of how this woman became mine not be beautiful? I don’t know what it was about her, but there was no controlling the need burning deep inside. The need to be her man, the person she turns to, the one she chooses for herself.

I have no business wanting those things from her. None at all. I’m going to lose her. I’m sure of it. Blackie is right—Reina is deep under my skin. I knew she’d wreck me, that she’d ruin me. A man like me can’t have sunshine—not when he’s destined to wander in the darkness until the devil calls him home. But there was no turning back now.

I leaned over her and pressed my lips to the top of her head.

“You…” I whispered into her hair, leaving the rest of the sentence where it belonged. In my head. In my heart.

I pulled the covers over her body and quietly climbed out of bed, bending down to pick up my clothes. I peeked through the slotted blinds and was greeted by the dawn of a new day.

The day that tortured my soul, year after year.

Fifteen years ago my life changed on this day.

Fifteen years ago my heart became complete.

And for the last thirteen years, this day, is the day I dread.

I moved away from the window and walked into the bathroom to wash up. I emerged from the bathroom, changing my t-shirt and sat on the chair in the corner of my room, pulling on my boots when I heard a light knock on the door. I lifted my eyes to the door, then back to Reina. I stood, walked over to the bed and bent down for a kiss, careful not to wake her. My gaze lingered on her as something unfamiliar erupted inside my chest. I chalked it up to having her in my bed, wearing my cut, a mix of the two screwing with my emotions. I liked what I saw. I liked having her in my bed, pretending I was hers.

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