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Maybe Morgan needed to hear his side, but she felt somewhat slighted since he didn’t seem interested in learning more about her story first.
Still, she made up her mind. She’d listen. She’d pay attention. Maybe she owed them that.
Blake paced the floor, rubbing his splayed fingers through his hair. “There wasn’t a day that passed that someone didn’t mention your name, attend an event where you were missed, or just make a comment about the future, a future all of us hoped you would enjoy with your family and friends.
“Many tears were shed. Hours were spent worrying after endless days of trying to find you. Finally, when no one could bear the pain anymore, we all agreed to let you go.
“We mourned you, grieved as if we’d endured your death, but finally decided if we were going to live full lives, we had to move on.”
“Sounds like you’d already decided to cut me out of your life completely.” That knowledge stung.
“You left us no other choice. Remember, you’re the one who chose to use. We didn’t make that decision for you, and we certainly didn’t want to lose sight of our goals and dreams because of the stupid choices you made.”
“You act as if I purposefully tried to hurt you.”
“Didn’t you? Weren’t you taught to make decisions for yourself? Weren’t you taught to say no to drugs? Didn’t you know better?”
“I don’t want to talk about this!” she screamed. “Why don’t you admit I ruined your life?”
He frowned. “Drug addicts are self-centered, Morgan. I’ve never met one who wasn’t. As much as you might like to think you had the power to ruin our lives, you didn’t. Does that mean I don’t love you? No, of course not. At the same time, you have to realize, I was given one life. I’m in control of how I choose to live that life and I refuse to let you or anyone else dictate how or where I can find happiness.”
“Do you even love me?” she asked, feeling as if he were talking down to her.
“You know I do. The question is, do you still have the ability to love me—or anyone else for that matter—in return?”
* * * *
Grant was standing over Kilo when he awoke. He’d promised the attending physician, a personal friend of his, that he wouldn’t assault him again. Kilo, for whatever reason, hadn’t pressed charges. When the cops arrived at the Keesling place, Kilo told them he’d fallen from a large oak tree.
“Did you come to finish the job?” Kilo asked slowly.
“No. I’m here to give you a verbal warning.”
An evil laugh fell from Kilo’s lips. “You’re wasting your breath.”
Grant snarled as he leaned over Kilo’s battered body. “If you ever come near Morgan or her family’s property again, I’ll send you back to Memphis in a body bag. Are we clear?”
“Crystal,” he said, smirking. “As ice.”
Grant turned to walk away and had every intention of doing just that until Kilo called after him. “You should’ve killed me when you had the chance. Next time, I won’t tell the cops a large tale. I’ll let them put you behind bars and leave you there. That way, I won’t have you in my way the next time I come for Morgan.”
“There’d better not be a next time, Kilo.”
He coughed and then winced, perhaps choking on his threats as much as the pain from several broken ribs. “Like I said, you should’ve killed me while you had a chance.”
Grant took long strides across the room, plenty of time to contemplate a different action, another option. He yanked the thin pillow from under Kilo’s head and held it in both hands, lowering the soft cushion as Kilo’s eyes widened. “You don’t have it in you to be like me.”
Grant thought of his brother then. He thought of the other brothers out there, the men and women suffering as they watched their siblings and friends die a slow death, a demise that no one could stop once their loved one started their decline into the world of drugs. He glared at Kilo and finally made his damning choice. “You’re right. I don’t have it in me to be like you.”
Tossing the pillow aside, he called back over
his shoulder as he walked out of the room, “But I’ll be worse than you if you come near Morgan again. I’ll pump enough rounds in you that you’ll be unrecognizable. Then, I’ll leave you for the vultures, trusting they’ll tear you apart like the court system failed to do.”
Chapter Twelve
Grant slipped inside Morgan’s bedroom later that evening with one goal. He planned to make love to Morgan, hold her until she remembered why she once loved him.
As much as he wanted to relive the history he and Morgan had shared, he refused. So much of their past included Scott—picnics, weekend trips to the mountains, and holiday dinners. In many ways, Grant held on to the past through Morgan, but maybe it was time to let go and look toward tomorrow for new promises and better solutions for old problems. Otherwise, the relationship he wanted rekindled with Morgan would never survive.
