Page 7 of Breaking Storm

My arm falls to the side as I look at Asston. She’s right, it isn’t his fault. None of this is our fault. The guy’s shoulders sag forward. He has this sad puppy dog appearance like he’s been kicked.

I put the poor guy out of his misery and say, “I showed up today and proposed to her. We’ve known each other for a long time, and she said yes.”

Teagan gives me a brittle smile and says to the guy, “He’s right. It was out of the blue, but I’ve always been… well… anyway, I said yes. That’s why I called you here. I wanted to tell you.”

Asston grabs his coat and flings his scarf around his neck. “When? When were you going to tell me? After you stuck your tongue down my throat? After you fucked me?”

Teagan’s head shoots up. I step forward, but she presses a hand to my chest as she speaks to him. “No… I… I was too scared to tell you. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

The guy walks away and says over his shoulder, “Good to know. By the way, you suck in bed.”

My fists punch the air, nostrils flare, and I stomp toward him, but Teagan runs in front, pushing against my chest. “Joey, please. Let it go.” I push forward as she slips backwards against my strength. “Please!”

I stop and say, “He has no right to talk to you like that.”

She glances over her shoulder as the guy drifts into the darkness and turns back to me. “He’s angry, Joe.”

Teagan is beautiful inside and out. She deserves better than me, maybe even deserves this Keats guy. Nah, not him. But she should have the best, and as much as I want her, my chest tightens from the fact I’m not worth the gum on her shoe. All I can do is protect her, provide for her, and perhaps over time, she’ll come to think I’m an all right guy instead of a thug.

I walk her home, and without a hug or a kiss goodbye, I disappear as fast as I appeared. The wedding is in a month, so I’ll see her then.

Chapter 3

I’VE BEEN NUMB THIS ENTIRE month, and our wedding day is no exception. Women scurry around like rats, pecking at my appearance, but I feel nothing. No anger. No sadness. It’s how I would picture an out-of-body experience, looking down at myself in the middle of a whirl of commotion. An extravagant day for ill-fitted mates. We may have been born into the criminal world, but Joey and I exist on separate planes. From what I’ve heard, my soon-to-be husband was born from violence,so it’s only natural it runs through his veins. He’s a man of blood and revenge while I’m a woman of growth and perseverance. Joey adheres to the rules of his family, and I reject everything my family stands for.

How will I ever endure this marriage? College was my one-way ticket out of here, and now I’m going to drown in the depravity of this life. Sold to a man I find equally handsome and dangerous. All the friends I’ve made in school, the classes, will become a memory. I’ll have to befriend women prone to fake relationships while they spend blood money to remain attractive to their husbands.

The room is suffocating. I press my hand to my chest, taking deep breaths, and plop down on a cushioned bench. Gasps and whispers swirl in the room. I raise my trembling hand to my mouth. Tears I’ve fought to hold back cascade down my cheeks. A woman curses me for smearing my makeup. I don’t care. I want out and to attend school. Live far away from here in peace. Maybe a small town or a house on a lake. Lie around in pajamas all day, skip showering, eat out of Chinese delivery cartons and spread them out on the table because I can. A searing pain shoots in my stomach, and I buckle over.

Aware it’s become quiet, I sit up and there’s a hand on my shoulder. Erin crouches down in front of me, holding my hand. Her pained expression mirrors the agony inside me. She rubs my arms, letting me cry.

Retrieving a box of tissues, she says, “Hey girl.”

I give her a gracious smile. “Hey.”

Erin tucks some strands of hair behind my ear. “It’s going to work out, Teagan. You’ll see.”

I can’t seem to get on board with her optimism. It’s easy for her. She still has choices. No one has put her life on a collision course.

“Teagan, I know this is hard for you. I understand this is against everything you’ve been reaching for.” She takes my hand in hers. “But it might not be as bad as you think. You can talk to Joey about what you want. He seems reasonable.”

There’s no point in arguing about him to her or anyone else, so I give a half-hearted shrug. She guides me back to where the makeup is spread out on a bureau and hums while she fixes the mess I’ve made of my face.

When she’s done, she looks at my reflection in the mirror and says, “I’m here for you, Teagan. I can’t replace your college friends, but I want you to know you have someone in your corner.”

My words come out like crusty old bread. “Thank you, Erin.” A hiccup and the pressure of tears threaten again, so I blink fast and breathe. “I love you.”

She gives me a kiss on the cheek, and we leave the room. In the corridor, my father stands behind the closed church doors, waiting for me. His eyes meet mine, and he smiles. Fucking smiles. I can’t recall the last time he’s smiled, yet in my agony, he finds the moment to share one. I hate him for making me do this. For being a dad who never cared other than how I can contribute to his illegal dynasty.

He sticks out his arm and says, “You look beautiful, Teagan. Are you ready?”

No!

I slide my arm through his. The doors open, and the music begins. At the end of a long aisle is Joey. The thug can clean up. He’s in all black, hair slicked back, and eyes bolted on me. With every step, I breathe and start counting to take my mind off the wedding and escape into my own thoughts, ignoring everyone in the church.Educated and working, I’min a little white house with a picket fence. Pops of color decorate the trellis and porch of the house. Neighbors wave to me and I wave back. The sun warms my face.

My father lifts my veil and snaps me out of my daydreaming. He places a kiss on my cheek, hands me over to Joey like I’m livestock, and takes a seat. It’s at this point I glance up at Joey to find an austere face. His green eyes are a bit darker than mint. I don’t see anger in his demeanor, but he’s ambiguous. It’s been years since I’ve talked to or seen him. And to be honest, I’m oblivious to his personality and life. I call him a thug and assume he’s all about this world. In all fairness, I know nothing aside from the visual Joey, which is a wicked shade of temptation. He’s a split between a warrior and a dark prince. He smells of spice, liquor, and an undercurrent of leather.

Joey takes my hand, and we stand, facing the altar, listening to a priest fuse our lives together. It takes forever. When we’re announced man and wife, Joey bows down and kisses the corner of my mouth—an act of distaste. Down the aisle, out the door, and into the limousine, we go. We pull away from the curb, the crowd noise diminishes, and silence takes up space.

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