Possess Me by Michelle Heard

 

Chapter 21

 

Everleigh

 

Locking the door of my bookstore, I walk to the back, where Vincent is napping.

I tried to get used to calling him Alek, but I couldn’t, so I swapped his first and second names.

Vincent Alek Adams was born on a stormy night. There was a power outage, and the darkness seemed fitting.

I crouch next to my sleeping son, and pressing a kiss to his cheek, I whisper, “Time to wake up, sleepyhead.”

He stretches as he turns onto his back, and when a smile spreads over his face, my heart clenches.

Vincent looks exactly like Alek. They have the same smile, the same eyes, the same mop of dark brown hair.

He even has the same golden flecks in his brown irises.

I don’t need a photo of Alek to remember him. I have his son.

There have been so many nights where I lie and fantasize that Alek finds us and we’re a happy family. But it’s only a dream because we can never be a part of his violent world.

I won’t put my son in that kind of danger.

A shiver rushes down my spine, and I suppress the traumatic memories I still haven’t processed.

I don’t think the nightmare I was subjected to can be dealt with, so I do my best to ignore it.

“I’m hungry, Mommy,” Vincent says, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Let’s put all your toys away and go home.” I begin to gather his cars and building blocks, putting them in the bin in his little corner of the store.

I thought about placing him in a daycare center, but I couldn’t bear to be away from him for an entire day.

Where I go, Vincent goes.

Rising to my feet, I walk to the counter to grab my handbag, then hold my hand out to my little boy, “Come, baby. Time to go.”

He walks toward me as if he has all the time in the world, and I wait patiently. When his tiny hand slips into mine, I tighten my hold on him and walk to the front door.

We step out onto the sidewalk, and I lock up behind us.

“Heading home?” April asks from where she’s having a cigarette.

She’s a barista at the coffee shop next to my bookstore, Fiction Anonymous.

“Yeah. Have a good night.” I give her a smile before I walk toward the car.

April once asked me to go out for a girls' night with her, but I used Vincent as an excuse to decline the invitation. She’s friendly and always greets me, but I like my quiet life with my son, and there isn’t space for anyone else.

Opening the backdoor, I pick up Vincent and place him in his car seat. I strap him in and press a kiss to the top of his head before I shut the door.

When I climb in behind the steering wheel, I strap on my safety belt and ask, “What do you want to eat, baby?”

“Fish fingers.” He gives me a grin. “And ice cream.”

“You can have ice cream for dessert,” I say as I start the engine and pull away from the curb.

“Nooooo.”

“Yesssss.”

“No, I want both for dinner,” he argues.

“How about I make corn on the cob with the fish fingers?” I negotiate.

“Corn on the cob, fish fingers, and ice cream.” Vincent chuckles.

I love my son’s playful nature. It makes a wide smile stretch over my face.

“And milk,” he adds. “Lots and lots of milk.”

“Okay, my baby.”

 

 

It’s quiet in the store, and Vincent is sitting on my lap while I read him a story.

When the doorbell jingles, I glance up and watch as a woman who seems to be in her early thirties pushes a stroller into the store.

She has beautiful dark brown hair, olive skin, and light brown eyes.

She shoots a friendly smile my way, then asks, “Do you sell children’s books?”

“Yes.” I put Vincent down on his feet and nudge him toward his corner. “Go play a little while Mommy helps the lady.”

Her eyes follow my son, then she asks, “He’s adorable. How old is he?”

“Three.” I walk closer to her and peek into the stroller. “Awww…” I give her a questioning look. “A boy?”

“Yes. He’s just turned one.”

“I miss the days Vincent used to sleep like that,” I chuckle. Gesturing toward the shelves with children's stories, I say, “This way.”

“Do you have any recommendations? Which books does your son enjoy?”

Again a chuckle escapes me. “He’s obsessed with Mighty Pup Power. Nothing else will do.” I take a copy off the shelf and hand it to her.

I glance at Vincent to make sure he’s okay.

“We have a dog, so I’m sure Roman will love this one.” Her gaze browses over the other books. “This one looks good. Until he understands, he’ll be able to look at the pictures of the animals.”

“That’s a good pick.”

The customer chooses three more books before we head to the counter.

“I’ve walked past this bookstore a hundred times and always wanted to come inside.” Our eyes lock, then she adds, “Oh, I’m Rosalie Vetrov.”

Her last name makes the hair on the back of my neck rise.

“I’m Everleigh.” I hesitate for a moment, then ask, “Are you Russian?”

She shakes her head. “No, my husband is. I’m Sicilian.”

My heart sets off at a crazy pace, and I glance at Vincent again.

Chill, woman. Not all Russians are bad.

Nodding, I ring up her books and pack them in a paper bag. “Will that be all?”

“Yes.” She hands me the cash, then blurts out, “I don’t know any other mommies. Well, mommies with children close to Roman’s age. Do you want to have coffee sometime?”

Not wanting to offend her by declining to her face, I say, “Leave your number, and I’ll give you a call.”

She writes it down on a sticky note, then smiles happily at me. “It will be nice to hang out with someone who has a child.”

It would.

“I’ll call soon.”

With a friendly wave, Rosalie leaves the store. My eyes follow her until she disappears from my sight, then I glance down at her phone number.

My wild heartbeat calms down, and I let out a sigh.

I probably won’t call.

Still, I tuck the sticky note in a drawer before I walk to where Vincent is playing with his cars.

 

 

With Vincent fast asleep in his bed, I leave his nightlight on before heading to the kitchen. I wash our dinner dishes, and when everything is tidy, I check that the front door is locked.

Just as I turn around, the urge to check overwhelms me. Letting out a sigh, I triple-check the locks, annoyed that I’m not able to break the habit.

Switching off the lights, I walk to my bedroom, leaving the door open so I can hear if Vincent calls for me.

I open the top drawer of my dressing table and make sure the gun is still in the little locked box.

I bought a weapon a week after I moved to Pasadena. I’m not pro-weapons, but I wanted something I could use to protect us.

Shutting the drawer, I climb beneath the covers and switch off my bedside lamp.

Darkness fills the room, and closing my eyes, I snuggle my face into my pillow.

In tonight's fantasy, Vincent and I are at the beach.

I hear Vincent’s laughter above the sound of the waves and smile as I watch him build a sandcastle.

Of course, I’m wearing a bikini, and there are no stretchmarks in sight. I’m perfect.

Glancing over the stretch of beach, I see a man walking toward us. He’s wearing black cargo pants…no, black swimming trunks. His skin is golden from the sun, and he has a six-pack that makes me drool.

Then our eyes meet, and of course, I’m shocked.

I climb to my feet, and tears of happiness spill over my cheeks.

The corner of Alek’s mouth lifts in a hot grin. ‘I’ve looked everywhere for you.’

‘You found us.’

We run into each other arms…crap, no, wait. I scoop up Vincent and then run toward Alek. He embraces us in his strong arms, promising never to leave us again.

I let out a huff, and punching my pillow, I scowl at the darkness.

He never left me. This fantasy sucks.

My thoughts threaten to go down the forbidden path as I remember what it felt like to make love to Alek.

Sadness fills my chest, and missing him more than anything, I bring up the memory of Alek’s smile.

I miss you, Alek. Every single day.

I wish you could meet our son. He looks so much like you.

I love you.

Finally, I drift off to sleep.

‘Choose who dies,’ Prodi orders.

I’m tied to a chair, and in the other chair is Vincent. Not Alek’s brother but my baby boy.

Alek glances between us, his features torn with desperation.

‘Choose!’ Prodi shouts, aiming his gun at my baby.

‘Noooooooo!’ I shout, the most horrible feeling ripping through me.

Darting upright in bed, my cheeks are wet with tears, and my breaths are racing over my lips.

My body trembles and it takes a moment for me to realize it was just another nightmare.

Needing to see Vincent, I climb out of bed and hurry to his room. Intense relief fills my chest when I lay eyes on my sleeping boy.

Careful not to wake him, I pick him up and carry him back to my bed.

Vincent has never had a problem sleeping in his own bed. I’m the one who’s struggling to sleep alone.

Holding him close to my chest, I take a couple of deep breaths so I’ll calm down.

Your baby is fine. Nothing is going to happen to him.

Prodi is dead, and he can’t hurt you anymore.

You’re safe.

Closing my eyes, I focus on Vincent’s soft breaths.

You’re safe.