Page 4 of Sacrifice
“Sure, baby. There are still princes in the world.”
“Like Daddy?”
My heart swells in my chest as she brings him up, not an uncommon topic for bedtime. There’s something about the peace of the routine, the quiet moments right before sleep, which has her uttering Gage’s name. She’s been talking about him a lot recently, more than just at bedtime. Although I’m not sure why, I do know that although it’s been almost two years, it still never fails to bring tears to my eyes. Just the thought of my husband creates a cascade of emotions I’ve justbarelylearned how to deal with.
“Yes, sweetheart. Like your daddy.”
“Do you think Butterscotch is in heaven with him?”
I nod. “Yes. I bet Daddy is taking care of your kitty.” I smile at my little girl and force a swallow past the lump in my throat. “And I bet he’s watching you right now and probably thinks you should be going to sleep.”
She smiles at me, her crooked grin looking so much like Gage it physically hurts. “And Uncle Crew? He’s a prince, too?”
It takes everything I have not to roll my eyes.
She looks down, playing with her monkey and I hope she’s done with the topic.
Besides me, Crew is all the family she has. Her paternal grandparents are dead and mine will never know her. They’re too in love with the bottom of bottles to ever trust around my daughter. I know the pain of seeing them get sloshed, the torment of listening to their verbal assaults, the burning sensation of having your arm squeezed so tightly you have to make up stories about how you got the large bruises for weeks after. They haven’t seen Ever since the week she was born. When they call on the rare occasion, it’s because they need something. It’s never because they want to see me or my daughter. Sometimes I wonder if they even remember Everleigh exists.
I watch her eyes get heavy and I yawn, snuggling down beside her and resting my head on the top of hers. My gaze catches the framed photo of Gage and Crew on her dresser.
They look so young and carefree in the picture, their gorgeous faces grinning at the camera. I remember snapping the picture after a long day at the beach and listening to my friends behind me whisper about how they could be models.
The picture is faded, the victim of many years and even more spilled sippy cups. Everleigh used to push it around the house in her little shopping cart. When she outgrew that, she demanded it be placed in her room.
Her princes.
I can’t help but grin as I close my eyes and remember seeing the two of them for the first time.
“They’re coming over here,” Lauren said, elbowing me in the ribs.
I felt my cheeks heat. I quickly turned my back to the boys walking our way. I spotted them earlier as we walked around Castle Island, an island in South Boston. We spent the day there, hanging out by the water, just generally being teenagers. I couldn’t stop sneaking glances at them all day.
They weren’t like most boys. Their bodies were harder, leaner, more chiseled than other guys our age. It wasn’t just their physical appearance that captured my attention, but rather the way they carried themselves. They walked around the park with total confidence, like they weren’t scared of anything.
My group of friends began to giggle, and I turned my head slowly to see the two of them standing in front of us.
“Hey, girls,” one of them said.
I snuck a quick look, breathing in the musk of their cologne that was tinged with the smell of sweat from the hot sun.
The one talking was slightly taller than the other. His hair was a darker shade of brown, his eyes a brighter blue. His grin was kind, his eyes wise.
The shorter one had close-cropped hair, a set of brooding eyes, and a cocky smile that made my knees turn to goo. His eyes glimmered and a shiver danced over my flesh, despite the heat.
“I’m Gage Gentry.” The taller one smiled and I couldn’t help but look away. They were too much. Just their proximity made me feel powerless, yet powerful at the same time. I’d never felt that way before . . . and I liked it.
“This is my brother, Crew.”
Crew smiled at my friends and their giggling went up a few notches. I didn’t giggle. I could barely catch my breath.
I gave him a quick once-over. He pressed his full lips together in an undeniable smirk. He raised his eyebrows as if to challenge me somehow.
That was a challenge I never should have taken.
“And Uncle Crew?” my daughter sleepily asks again.
I fight myself from telling my five-year-old daughter that her beloved uncle Crew is anything but a prince. He’s the exact opposite of Gage in almost every way. I know this firsthand.
