tomorrow

The pressure was unrelenting. From the moment he woke in the bed with the person who’d laid that blame on him in the first place, ebbing and flowing throughout the day, all the worse in those stilted moments they spent close to one another. It made it hard to breathe, almost impossible to find the words that had once come so easy with her. What the hell was he meant to say when it felt like every response was gonna be if it wasn’t for you I’d be with my son?

Grey pulled at the tie that had felt too much like the garotte he used to put others out of their misery for the last hour of the drive back to town. He screwed it all, shoved it in his pocket, heedless of the wrinkles housekeeping would press out of the silk for him later. The elevator rose like it had the night Destiny’s claws had shredded what had remained of his heart in his chest, that band tightening as though he wrapped the strip of silk around his ribs instead of balling it up.

Years of living with Malcolm, feeling the man’s vitriol and blame burn into him, scarring everything it touched. His fault his mum was dead, an ungrateful child sucking the life out of her. Like Malcolm hadn’t been the one to do that, his infidelity what cost him the supposed love of his life. Failing to make sure Leah stayed dead had cost him his, but he wasn’t ready to let go. They were both still drowning in their grief more than a year after their son had died, and he wasn’t about let go of Destiny so she could sink in that dark water, never to surface again.

It wasn’t until he’d gotten in the car and pulled away from the hotel that morning – the feel of Destiny’s body still imprinted on his – that he’d even realised the date. There was no magic to the day, not the same way he’d made sure was their for her birthday. She’d sent a message that had pinged up just as he’d pulled up at the account’s office in Charlottesville. Destiny hadn’t forgotten and she hadn’t stopped loving him – she just couldn’t forgive him for what he’d cost them. For Petyr. He’d sat for ten minutes before he’d managed to compose something back. A simple ‘Love you too’.

Walking into the office he’d felt like a deep sea diver, a tank strapped on, his air running low. Lungs leaden, his heart struggling, bound to give out at some point. Meetings that stripped patience from him, the sandpaper feel of Solomon’s feel on it leaving him raw. He’d considered not going back, but that had been the problem last time, hadn’t it? Without him her patience had slipped. Without her his sanity was heading the same way. That was the only way to explain his driving back the long way just to cruise through the Whitmore campus.

His gaze flickered over each face he’d passed – empty headed teenagers without a clue what the fuck had happened right there. One of their own killed, a curse broken. Release. It was meant to have a release, but if the darkness had finally been cast off like a coat, why had those cracks started working their way through Destiny the same way they had his mum?

Drawing himself up, Grey tried to steel himself for another night of orbiting one another without being drawn together the way they had been. In sleep it was different, an unconscious gravitation together, but this was conscious and it was going to be another evening of driving nails in the coffin lid of their relationship.

Had he honestly been expecting the scent of blood on the air again? He’d inhaled as the doors had slid open. There wasn’t a hint of it beneath the homely smell of cake, of something more savoury too. Hunger gnawed at his stomach, the liquor that always came out after lunch for these meetings burning over it. A gnawing for something more, something he’d had and lost joining it as Destiny rushed to him.

Grey twitched, the feeling settling as she wrapped her arms around him, her lips finding his to stamp the birthday wishes there. Bare skin was warm beneath his palms as they found the waistband of a skirt that dipped down in front. Her stomach flat – another jab at him for not wanting the baby that hadn’t been held safe there for quite long enough? – drawing his eye down and then back up. ”Hey,” he croaked, not wanting to lean into the warm cradle of her palms, but desperate to do it all the same. ”You don’t have to…” The frown pulled at his face, etching the lines deep again before he tried to push them away. He drew a hand up, covering hers for just a moment. ”Thank you.” Had that been for her apology? The one he wasn’t sure he’d deserved. Or the birthday wishes?

That feeling of walking barefoot through a room full of glass that was just waiting to shatter under his weight was back. Grey’s hands fell away from her as she pecked him and drew back, just like she’d done the last time. Bright, practically chirping as she asked about his day. Not the same the voice in his head reminded him as he watched her, nobody had died tonight. Destiny hadn’t left a body spread out here like some cat’s gift to its owner. Swallowing hard, he followed her towards the kitchen. ”A busy one. More meetings. Not the sort of thing you should be sitting through on your birthday.” As if he’d know.

He made a sound low in his throat as she lifted a wedge of the Shepard’s Pie onto each plate. That had been the homely smell – something he’d been lucky to smell around the Alpha’s home, because there was no way Malcolm could’ve managed it without burning it to a crisp while he’d got himself sozzled. ”Yeah … it … it looks great. We didn’t stop for lunch. You must’ve spent hours on it.” As if he’d know. There was cake on the side too though. The effort that had gone into it more than he’d expected given the way the last week had gone. Maybe this wasn’t the slippery slope he’d expected, a sheer cliff with no way of hanging on.

Laughter creaked out of him as the click of claws on the floor became two wiggling little bodies, as glad to see him home as Destiny appeared to be. Grey felt his throat go thick and then seize up as he dropped to one knee to scritch his fingers over them. Kids. It couldn’t have been more of a blow, even if Destiny had picked up the knife she’d probably set aside for the cake after and driven it into his chest. He couldn’t look at her for a moment, not when he was caught between believing that had been purposeful and her being too buzzed about everything she’d done to realise that she’d cut him deep again. ”All dressed up for me huh? It looks amazing. You look amazing. You didn’t have to do all of this,” he said honestly. Rising with Flower held against his chest, one hand under her belly. ”Thank you. We … uh … we should eat before it gets cold. None for you though, hey?” One corner of his mouth lifted as he glanced down at Flower. She was caught between them as he curled his other arm around Destiny, pulling her in to press his lips against her forehead, small gestures that might stop a landmine from going off in the middle of his life again tonight.

Tagged: DESTINY BACCARI * Word Count: 1300

Apologies hadn’t exactly flown when they’d woken up the day after their fight. He’d been on edge, bracing himself for each word out of Destiny’s mouth, like another blow would come and he’d have to avoid swinging back in the end just to protect himself. Off balance and aching from it, he’d expected to see insanity rising like candle flames in her eyes – the same way Malcolm had claimed to see them in his wife’s eyes at the end, guttering candlelight in their hollowed blue depths. She’d had his eyes, the same way he thought Petyr would have had Destiny’s. Thanks to the curse, the one that was never going to be broken, Grey found himself looking for them in Destiny’s eyes now as he watched her serving up what she’d put together for him – the things she’d thought would mean something to him.

They weren’t there, not tonight, she was the old Destiny again – caring and warm as the cake. Grey shook his head lightly, his brows drawing together faintly. ”It’s gonna be perfect,” he promised her. He wished he could say the same for what was coming for them, but all that had happened had proved that their relationship was anything but. The wounds in them both that had never healed guaranteed that. ”Everything you’ve ever made me’s been good.” The last word tried to catch in his throat like a fish bone – it had all been good, including their son. Petyr had been healthy, growing just as he should, until his evil bitch of an aunt had interfered.

Instead of Petyr toddling up to him, a hat sitting atop of his dark fuzz of hair, Berlioz and Flower appeared instead. Animals knew didn’t they? If there was disaster coming they listened to their primitive instincts and ran – they’d disappeared from the room the night they’d fought, but they were back here now, a fair weather indicator. Destiny’s description of them hadn’t been the start of something, just a momentary bobble that he tried to push away as he looked up at her. She didn’t have to do it, although she had before, but the fact that she cared enough to do it again now helped burn off the ache in his gut and draw him towards her.

For a moment he stayed there, his lips against her forehead, the tears that tried to burn their way past the walls he’d had firmly in place for weeks blinked away before he drew back. ”Go on and eat your food,” he murmured to Flower, smacking a kiss on her too before he set her down to trundle off with Berlioz.

Brushing his hands off on his suit, Grey settled at the table opposite Destiny. His eyes were on her as she forked up what she’d put together, watching her face as she tasted it. A small smile curved his lips as he did the same. It looked like he was sure it was meant to and, God, it did taste of home – the best bits of it that was sure were more what he thought things should’ve been like rather than actual memories. Warm and savoury, stodgy in that uniquely British way. His grin grew as he swallowed it down, his eyes crinkling at the corners, shattering the mask that’d been in place with that wall, when he nodded. ”I knew it was gonna be perfect,” he told her. ”It’s honestly amazing.” It wasn’t the white flag he’d been expecting, but he’d definitely take it.

Things weren’t back where they had been yet, but this was promising that the lingering brittleness would crumble. One meal at a time healing the damage they’d inflicted on one another. Grey went back in for another forkful, dragging up the meat mix from beneath its snowy cap of potatoes. It was halfway to his mouth when she mentioned a visitor at work and he stiffened. Leah had always had a knack for showing up at the worst possible time to shred his life, had she…

Relief rushed out of him on a panted breath. He kept a grip on his fork, dragging it up to his mouth to choke down past the fear that was bleeding away. The food stuck in his throat though as he went to swallow, the fork clattering down onto his plate. ”His stuff? He bought us some of …” The tears were brimming now, his breathing coming short as the ache in his chest intensified. Grey sniffed them back, reaching for the bag, but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything more than just peep in at the tissue paper.

Still staring at it as though opening it would somehow destroy it, Grey swallowed hard as Destiny began to speak again. His gaze drifted up to focus on her. Maybe they weren’t done tearing each other apart after all. ”But you believed it at some point?” he asked tightly, not wanting to circle back into that vicious fight again, but needing to know all the same. Not meaning any of it then didn’t mean she hadn’t hated him for not immediately being able to tell her he wanted her and Petyr. The wound had to have been there in the first place for the poison to gather in it. Being upset that day had just been the reason it had poured out then.

Peeling his fingers off of the bag, Grey slipped off of his chair, crouching in front of her. He cupped her cheek as she looked up, shaking his head at her. ”It didn’t tear us apart then, it’s not going to now. It’s better that it’s out.” The part of him she’d destroyed afresh could scar over again now. ”He is ours, and nothing is ever going to change that.” Nothing would erase the grief either, that was one wound that would never close. ”What did he tell you?” he managed hoarsely, blinking the tears away to look at the red bag again. Grey dragged it down into Destiny’s lap. He nudged the paper aside, feeling the brush of soft fabric against his finger before he started to draw the contents out – the bear’s face blurring into a fuzzy brown blob as the first shudder of a choked, watery smile rolled over him.

Tagged: DESTINY BACCARI * Word Count: 1048