Had to Be You: Bad Boys of Red Hook (21 page)

They left the dog in the car while Slater took Nicki’s bike off the rack.

Rocki fit the helmet to Nicki’s head and put on the rest of her safety gear, making her look like a little purple Michelin Man.

Slater adjusted the seat and held the bike as Nicki climbed on. “Okay, you pedal forward to go. It has coaster brakes, so all you have to do is press back lightly on the pedals to stop.”

“Okay.” Nicki looked like she was doing a math problem. She screwed her face up in concentration, biting her tongue. Where had he seen that before?

He shook his head. Shit, it didn’t matter. “Okay, Nicki, start pedaling and I’ll run along beside you. Just circle around the parking lot.”

“You’re not gonna let go, are you?”

“I’ll let you know before I do, okay?”

“You promise?”

“Promise. You’re gonna be great.” Slater held on to her seat and her handlebars to get her going and then let go of the handlebars. The kid wobbled a little, and the first turn was a little iffy, but man, once she hit the straightaway, she was off. He had a hard time pacing her. “You got it, Nicki. I’m gonna let go, but I’ll try to stay with you.”

“Okay.”

He had to really run to keep up. She took an easy curve around and headed back toward Rocki. “I’m riding! Look at me!”

Rocki had a huge smile on her face and D.O.G. was pulling for all he was worth to get to Nicki.

“Slow it down, squirt. Just lightly press back on the pedals.”

Nicki didn’t seem to know the definition of the word lightly and locked up the back wheel.

Slater caught her and the bike right before she tipped over. “Lightly, Nicki. That wasn’t light, but it was effective. Remember, when you stop, you have to put a foot down so you don’t fall.”

“I didn’t fall.”

“You would have if I hadn’t been here to catch you.”

“Maybe, but I knew you would catch me. I wasn’t scared.”

“That makes one of us.” Maybe this bike wasn’t such a good idea. The kid was fearless.

Rocki and D.O.G. ran up to them. “Nicki, you were awesome. Good job. You too, Slater.”

“Thanks. Can I go around again?”

Slater rubbed his hands together. “One more time around and then let’s get our gloves on and take D.O.G. for a walk. Do you want help getting started? That’s the hardest part.”

“No, I want to do it by myself. Just, you know, stay close by in case I fall—at least until I’m going real fast, okay?”

Slater blew out a breath. At least he’d work off all the junk he ate today. It was hell having a chef in the family. He stood beside Nicki, adjusted her pedals for an easy start, and got ready to run.

Nicki had a few wobbles at the start but she had great balance so she corrected it and then really took off. Slater tried to keep up with her, but stopped once she made it around the first turn. He walked back to Rocki and watched the kid ride like the wind around the parking lot. He tried to get her to stop but she breezed right by him.

“Just one more time around, okay?”

He was afraid to tell her no. If she slammed on the brakes, he wasn’t sure he could catch her. “Okay, but coast in and then brake lightly.” He wrapped his arms around Rocki, who was shivering.

“She’s a natural. Look at her go.”

He rested his head on hers and stood there just drinking in the happiness. Even the dog had a goofy grin on his face. “This is nice.”

“It’s the best Christmas I can remember.”

“Yeah, I think so too.”

Nicki came in a little fast, but stopped without killing herself—or them. “That was epic!”

She jumped off the bike and forgot to put the kickstand down before throwing herself into Slater’s arms.

He caught both Nicki and the bike.

“Slater, this is the bestest present I ever ever got. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And you did great. But next time, don’t forget the kickstand.” Slater put the bike on the rack and locked it in. “Come on, let’s take D.O.G. for a run and then we’ll go home and get some hot chocolate, what do you say?”

D.O.G. heard the word
run
and made his intentions clear.

Slater looked around—no one was there, so he let D.O.G. off the leash. D.O.G. and Nicki took off, and he and Rocki followed at a more sedate pace. He yelled, “Nicki, stay away from the lake.”

“Okay.”

Nicki disappeared through the trees and Slater walked faster and kept his eye on her purple jacket.

He caught a glimpse of her tossing a stick for the dog and settled back into a walk.

“D.O.G. No! Don’t go on the ice!”

As soon as Slater heard Nicki cry out he took off at a run. His heart double-timed against his ribs. Damn! He should never have let her out of his sight. “Nicki!”

He raced through the trees, just as he heard what sounded like a shot. His adrenaline went into overdrive and a memory, so real, so crystal clear, so Technicolor, it blasted his senses like a 3-D Hitchcock horror flick—the kind that leaves you awake for months. The kind that has you looking over your shoulder when you walk alone. The kind that leaves you in a cold sweat on a sweltery summer morning.

His mother holding him behind her while the monster—God, the monster was his father—held a gun to her head. “NO!”

Nicki’s scream cut the vision. D.O.G. ran for shore.

Nicki turned, took another step, and fell through the ice. All he could see was her head.

He dove onto the ice and slid on his belly. “Nicki!” He edged toward the hole. “Nicki!”

Hands clawing the icy edge. Purple lips. Wet, stringy hair freezing in the cold air, and puffs coming from her mouth. Her eyes filled with terror. His mother’s eyes. His mother’s terror.

“Slater!” She reached for him; and like the creature from the black lagoon, Nicki stood—water lapping at her waist.

He grabbed her, dragged her along the ice with him, and once he hit shore, he picked her up and ran to the car.

Her teeth were chattering and she shivered so violently her body convulsed. He couldn’t lose Nicki. God, he couldn’t lose her too.

Rocki ran after them. “Slater?”

He stripped Nicki out of her wet clothes as fast as he could, dragged his shirt, sweatshirt, and jacket off and pulled them over her quaking body.

•   •   •

Rocki caught up with them, just as Slater put Nicki in the car.

He was mumbling, his eyes wild, and he shook—of course he was half naked—but she had a feeling it wasn’t just from the cold. He looked as if he was going into shock.

He tossed her the keys and paced behind the car. “Get the heat on.”

Nicki was crying. “D.O.G. Where’s D.O.G.?”

“Fuck the dog. Get in the car. Rocki, drive to the hospital.” Slater clenched and unclenched his hands almost as if he wanted to punch something—or someone. His face was ashen, his eyes haunted, as if he’d witnessed the horrors of Auschwitz—or lived through it. Rocki grabbed his arm.

He shook her off as if her touch electrocuted him and stepped back. Rocki counterstepped to his movements without touching him and locked him in her gaze.

“Slater, look at me.”

His eyes came into focus when she dropped her voice and projected like a barrel-chested drill sergeant berating a new recruit on the first day of boot camp. “You need to calm down. You’re scaring Nicki. You take the keys, start the car, and get the heat going.” When she saw the nod, she turned her attention to Nicki. She reached into the back of the Jeep and touched her face. “Hey, sweetie. How are you doing?”

“C-c-cold.”

“We’ll get you warmed up real soon.”

D.O.G.’s bark was close by. Tears streaked Nicki’s face. “I’m s-s-s-sorry.”

“Shh, hush now. You’re okay.”

The dog pushed past Rocki, jumped into the car, and laid his head against Nicki.

Rocki pulled the seat belt around Nicki’s little shivering body and clicked it into place.

“Slater, get in the passenger’s seat. I’m driving.”

She grabbed her phone as Slater got out of the car, and speed-dialed Pete. “Meet us at Methodist Hospital. Nicki fell through the ice—I think she’s gonna be okay. It’s Slater I’m worried about. Hurry.” She ended the call, got in the car, and took off.

It had been years since Rocki drove—but she figured it was like riding a bike. Of course, she’d never driven a car this large before so she went over a few curbs—Slater didn’t seem to notice. It looked as if he were in some kind of freaky trance, gripping the dashboard and staring off into space.

“Slater, are you okay?” Nicki’s teeth chattered between syllables.

Rocki glanced at him. There was no reaction; the man didn’t even blink. She caught Nicki’s eye in her rearview. “Nicki, honey, Slater loves you, and he just got really scared when he thought you were hurt. That’s what grown-ups do when their kids fall through the ice.”

Rocki kept one eye on the road and one eye on Slater with an occasional glance back at Nicki through the rearview mirror. She was pretty sure Nicki was going to be just fine after she was wrapped in some warming blankets. Slater, on the other hand, looked like he’d just gone to hell and back and lost his luggage.

She reached over to take his hand and he startled so badly, his head hit the window. God, he was out of it. “It’s going to be okay, Slater.”

He looked at her as if he’d just discovered the bogeyman really did exist and she was it. She wanted to comfort him, but she didn’t dare touch him for fear he’d throw himself out of the speeding car just to get away.

Rocki kept up a constant stream of chatter for Nicki’s benefit, asking her questions; afraid she too might go into shock.

Nicki answered through tears while D.O.G. whined beside her.

Rocki broke just about every traffic law between the park and the hospital and was amazed there wasn’t a fleet of cop cars following her. She skidded to a stop at the emergency room and found Francis waiting. She’d never been so happy to see anyone in her life.

She jumped out of the car. “I’ll take Nicki. You deal with Slater. Physically, I think he’s fine. But there’s something wrong. He’s probably in shock. Be careful. He doesn’t want to be touched.”

Rocki got Nicki, and closed the door on D.O.G. “Come on, baby, let’s get you all warmed up.”

“I want Slater.”

“I know, baby, but Slater needs to talk to Francis. You’ll see him in a little while. I’ve got you now.”

Slater heard the fighting. God, they were always fighting. Fighting about him. Slater’s back still stung from the last whipping he’d received. Momma had put something on it, gave him Tylenol, and put him to bed early. “Don’t leave your room, baby,” she’d cooed. “Just stay here. Momma’s gonna handle it.”

But then Momma screamed and sounded scared. He snuck down the hall to the living room, being really super quiet.

He wiped the sleep out of his eyes and saw his dad—he’d turned into a scary monster again.

Momma’s scream made him feel sick, his back hurt where his shirt stuck to his cuts, and tears stung his eyes, but he couldn’t cry. If he cried, the monster just gave him something else to cry about.

The monster held Momma by the hair—her long brown curls hung like a horse’s tail. Momma’s eyes were wide. She saw him and waved him away, then clawed at the monster’s face.

The monster screamed and threw her into the wall. Momma crumbled like one of his block houses when he drove his fire truck through it.

“No! Momma!” Slater tackled the monster’s legs. The monster picked him up by the neck and threw him. He landed hard, tasted blood, and rolled over, crawling backward to Momma.

The monster raised his arm and pointed a gun at them.

Slater heard a shot and then felt like someone kicked him. He fell back, felt the heat and searing pain.

Another shot rang out, echoing in his ears.

He yelled but made no sound. He reached out for his mother and turned his head. Momma’s face was covered in red. He tried to scream, to cry, to move.

The monster put the gun in his own mouth and pulled the trigger. He hit the wall, sliding down to the floor, leaving a bright red stripe.

Slater tried to breathe and heard bubbles popping. He liked bubbles. The room got dark and quiet.

“Slater, it’s Francis. You with me, Slater? Can you hear me?”

“Nicki.” Nicki had his mother’s eyes and Slater had the Monster’s.

“Nicki’s gonna be just fine. Can you get out of the car, buddy?”

“I gotta get to Nicki.”

“Rocki’s with Nicki. Let’s get you inside. I’m just gonna open the door, real slow. Okay?”

“Yeah. I gotta make sure Nicki’s okay.”

“She’s gonna be fine, buddy. Let’s get you inside and have you checked out. You’re cold and wet.”

“I’m fine. I need to save Nicki.” Slater got out of the car and had to hold on until the world stopped spinning.

“Nicki’s being taken care of—Rocki has her.” Francis put a blanket or something around him, pushed him into a chair, and through the doors.

The next thing he knew he had a blood pressure cuff on one arm and an IV in the other. He hated hospitals. He remembered now. He’d been in one for a long, long, long time. He’d been all alone and scared.

“How you doing, son?” A hand squeezed his shoulder but didn’t let go.

Pop? Slater opened his eyes. Pop looked fuzzy and pale. God, everything was so distorted. “Pop, Nicki—”

“Nicki’s fine. You saved her. She’s perfectly fine.”

He saw Nicki’s face and it kept morphing into his mother’s. “No. I watched her die. Momma died because of me. She told me to stay in my room. She told me to stay away, but I didn’t listen.”

“Slater, look at me.”

He tried to focus on Pop’s face.

“That was a long time ago, you were just a little kid. It wasn’t your fault. He’d already written a note. He’d planned it. You did not cause it. If you hadn’t walked in on it, he would have shot you in your bed.”

Slater’s face was wet, his heart raced, and he felt sick. “The monster killed my mother. I saw it. I remember everything.” He remembered the scent of terror, the hate pouring out of the monster, the metallic taste of blood.

“I know, Slater. I know. God, son, I’m so sorry.”

Slater rubbed his chest. “He shot me. He tried to kill me.”

“You’re okay and he’s dead. You’re okay.”

The cold sweat of fear covered him. The tangy taste of bile rose in his throat, and the weight of guilt settled in his chest. “How can I be okay, Pop? That monster was my father.”

“No, I’m your father. That man was no father to you, son. You’re mine. You’ve been mine since the day I saw you. You’ll always be my son.”

“The monster is in me. I know it. I feel it. It’s always been there just waiting to come out.”

“No, son. There’s nothing of him in you. I know you. I love you. You’re nothing like that madman. You’re no monster.”

“I’m tired. I need to see Nicki, Pop. I need to see her.”

“I’ll see what I can do. You rest. I’ll be back.”

Slater closed his eyes; he felt a big hand on his forehead, then a kiss.

“I love you, son.”

Love? How do you love a monster?

•   •   •

Rocki ran from Nicki’s bed to find out where Slater was as soon as Bree and Storm came and relieved her. Nicki was fine. She was cold and shaken, but that was to be expected. It couldn’t be any fun to fall through the ice, even if it was in just a few feet of water. The kid had gotten soaked and she was half frozen, but it was Slater’s reaction that had scared Nicki the most.

Rocki turned the corner and almost ran into Pete. She took one look at him and the tears she’d been holding back and the terror she’d been ignoring hit her at the exact moment her adrenaline bottomed out. She walked into his open arms and completely lost it. He wrapped her in a bear hug and held on while the tidal wave of emotion ran over her. “Where’s Slater? Is he okay?”

“They’ve sedated him. He’s going to be fine.” Still the worried look in Pete’s eyes told her he wasn’t so sure.

“What happened to him?”

Pete took her hand. “Come on, let’s go get a cup of coffee and talk.”

Rocki pulled away and wrapped her arms around herself. Slater had seemed unreachable and that scared her more than anything since her parents’ deaths. “I don’t want to talk. I want to see him. I have to. He can’t be alone. You don’t understand what he’s like in hospitals.”

“Yes, I do.” Pete wrapped an arm around her and nudged her toward the cafeteria. “They have enough drugs in him to sedate an elephant. He’s not going to know he’s alone until he comes out of it.”

Rocki leaned into Pete and allowed him to shuffle her along. Before she knew it, she sat at a corner table with a cup of coffee in her hand, and stared at Pete who looked pale. “Okay, talk.”

Pete raked his hand through what was left of his hair. “Slater went through hell when he was just a little tyke, and then he was in the foster system for almost seven years before I got him.”

“He told me. He doesn’t remember much. He doesn’t remember his parents and has only vague memories of the houses he’s lived in.”

“Yeah, well, that changed. He remembers everything.”

“Is that good?”

“I don’t know. I’d have been happy if he’d never remembered it. The shrinks told me that he’d eventually remember when he was strong enough to handle it. I didn’t think anyone was that strong—apparently I underestimated Slater.”

“What did he remember?”

“When things like this happen, the person remembers it like he’s experiencing it for the first time. He sees it through the eyes of the victim—in this case, through the eyes of a five-year-old little boy. It takes a while to be able to extrapolate the memory and be able to look at it through the eyes of the man he’s become.”

“What did he remember?”

“When Slater was five—”

Rocki pictured a smaller, lighter, male version of Nicki and realized that Nicki and Slater had the same smile.

“He walked into the living room, interrupted a fight between his parents. His father shot him—“

The sound of the ocean filled her ears; she wasn’t sure she heard Pete right. “Shot him?”

Pete nodded.

“Oh my God—that scar on his chest is a bullet wound.” Sweat beaded on her hairline, tears filled her eyes, all the air left her lungs, her heart hurt, and bile burned the back of her throat.

Pete nodded. “Slater watched as his father shot and killed his mother, and then turned the gun on himself.”

Now she knew she was going to be sick—and the way her stomach dropped, it was going to be bad. She would have warned Pete but she couldn’t speak.

“Slater was the only survivor. He was in the hospital for weeks.”

How does one survive that? It was horrible losing her parents, but it was an accident. She couldn’t imagine how Slater was going to go on now that he knew. Rocki looked for a ladies room but it was too far away; she’d never make it. She took off through the doors to the courtyard and emptied her stomach by a bush.

When she finished, Pete handed her a napkin and a bottle of water. “That didn’t go well. I’m sorry.”

Rocki gulped air, trying to stop the flow of tears—tears for the little boy Slater had been and for the man he was now.

Pete pulled her into his arms. “He’ll be okay. It might take some time, but he’ll get past this.”

“Pete, how? How the hell do you get past something like that? Those were his parents.”

“I’m his father, dammit, and that’s what matters. That monster, as Slater calls him, was nothing more than a sperm donor. I raised that boy. He’s strong, he’s successful, he has you and Nicki. He has to come through this. It’s just going to take some time, Rocki. He’s going to need all of us.”

“I couldn’t reach him.”

“Look, he thought Nicki was going to die in that lake. That fear obviously triggered the rest of it. Now he just needs time to process it.”

“What if he can’t? How can someone process something that horrific?”

“I don’t know, but th
e human mind is amazing. Look at all the survivors of the concentration camps.”

“Slater was a baby. He was Cassidy’s age.” Nicki thought of Francis and Patrice’s oldest daughter, Cassidy, going through something like that and almost lost it again.

Pete patted her back and held her. “He might have been Cassidy’s age then, but he’s not now.”

•   •   •

Rocki sat beside Slater on a hard plastic chair and watched him sleep. She didn’t know what they’d given him, but he hadn’t so much as stirred in the last four hours.

She’d spent more time in hospital rooms lately than she ever wanted to. With as much time as people sat and waited in these chairs, you’d think they could at least make them comfortable.

The door pushed open and Rocki wiped the tears off her face.

Jackson stuck his head in.

Rocki stood and motioned for him to be quiet, then walked right into his open arms and started crying again. God, she wished she could turn off the waterworks.

He pulled a hanky out of his pocket and held her chin in his hand, just like their father had every time he’d dried her tears. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not going to be okay until I know Slater is.”

“I’m sorry, Rocki. No wonder he always looked so freaked out at the hospital. He’s not going to be happy when he wakes up here.” He pulled a chair close to hers and sat, crossing his long legs at the ankle and held her hand in his.

She just wanted Slater to wake up, but then part of her wished she could get him home before he did. She pictured him sprawled out in their new bed with her draped over his chest, listening to the comforting beat of his heart. She wanted to wiggle her nose and transport them to Chinatown but that wasn’t going to happen. “How’s everyone at home?”

Jackson smiled and shook his head. “Man, Rocki, you’ve been talking about these people since you moved here, but I always thought you were exaggerating. You weren’t. If anything, they’re even tighter than you led me to believe. Storm is a mess—I guess he lit into Slater before we came back and is now regretting it big-time.”

“He should.”

“It looks as if the guilt is eating him alive.”

It seemed that Jax had more sympathy for Storm than for Slater and that didn’t sit well but she didn’t say anything—it wasn’t worth fighting about.

“Patrice is clucking over everyone. Francis is running roughshod over the kids and grumbling about sleeping on the couch for life if he pisses Patrice off. Skye is cooking—”

“She cooks when she gets nervous.”

“Bree is organizing. She sent me over to your place to get a change of clothes for Slater.” He held up the bag. “How long do they think he’ll be out?”

“I don’t know but I’m staying. He can’t wake up alone—not after what happened.”

“Would it be better for Pete to be here?”

“No. Slater needs me and I need him. God, Jax, I’m so scared.”

“After you see him, do the guy a favor, give him some space, Rocki. He has a hell of a lot to deal with. He might not want you around when he’s doing it.”

“What? That’s just bullshit.”

“No, it’s not. It just goes against what you want. Guys are different. We like to lick our wounds without an audience. He’s not going to be able to take care of you and get his head straight at the same time.”

“I don’t need taking care of. He does.”

“No, he doesn’t. He needs to deal with his baggage and that’s a one-man job. The last thing a guy like Slater’s going to want is you treating him like an emotional cripple.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“You wouldn’t be able to help yourself. Shit, Rocki. You’re a fuckin’ force of nature—you’re going to take a battering ram to whatever walls he puts up for self-protection. You always do.”

“I love him.”

“Yeah, well, you might just have to do it from a distance, because, little girl, there’s nothing you can do to fix this. It’s all up to him.”

“I don’t want to fix him.”

“Rocki, I love you and I know you better than you know yourself. You spend your life fixing things and people or at least trying to. Pay attention to the signals. If he pushes away—give the man space. I imagine he’s going to feel like a caged tiger at the zoo. Everyone’s going to be watching him deal with something that no man should have to. If it were me, I’d get as far away from everyone I knew as fast as I could, and then I’d lock myself in a hotel room and deal with the fallout on my own.”

“You’re not him.”

“I know, but he’s a strong, proud man. He’s spent his life alone for a reason—hell, if I’d gone through what he did, I would have too.”