“Shit, Vicky, calm down. Let me get you home.” Joe put his arm around my shoulder and guided me back to the car. I was falling apart. I needed Luc; I was alone again, abandoned again. I sat with my head against the headrest looking quietly out the window for the rest of the ride home while Joe periodically gazed my way with concern. I didn’t mean to show him this side of me. The side that wasn’t strong, the side that was falling apart but I had no control over my emotions and every part of me felt completely out of whack.

As we pulled into the driveway, Joe pulled the key from the ignition and with his shoulders hunched over he said, “Let’s go inside. You should get some rest for tomorrow.”

I followed him inside the house and as I was ready to climb the stairs for the second floor Joe called me back, “Vick, I really am sorry for leaving you alone all this time. I was a selfish bastard, only thinking of myself,” he said bowing his head.

“It’s okay, just tell me you will stick around from here on out, please Joe. Even if you don’t want to stay in Thunder Bay, I need you to stay in touch with me and talk to me, I need to know you are safe,” I practically begged him as if my life depended on it.

“Yeah, Vick, I promise,” he said, then he gripped me into one of his infamous bear hugs, squeezing me too tight before releasing me. I didn’t know what was going on inside his head or where he had been, but I knew he was a guy that was all heart like my papa had been before life got shot to hell. The smell of vomit whiffed up my nose, reminding me how badly I needed to shower.

“I’m going to shower,” I cringed looking at Joe apologetically. The bitter smell of vomit permeated from my mouth and probably my clothes. He gave me a kind smile.

“Go ahead.” He nodded to the stairs. As I climbed the stairs I was relieved to have my brother back. I noticed Joe went to sit outside. He wasn’t a very talkative guy, but I knew something heavy was weighing on him.

I let the steamy water roll over my achy body. It had been a long day with too many revelations. I mostly wondered why I felt sick to my stomach most of the time. I worried that I was getting myself into a deep depression.

After the shower I climbed into bed, then checked my phone hoping there was a text or call from Luc. My stomach dropped when I saw Luc missed call. He had tried to contact me. Bryce probably told him about my papa. It took everything inside me not to call him. He had been a big asshole, getting drunk and pushing me away like that, I wasn’t going to let him off the hook so easily. Just as I was thinking to let him eat dirt for a while, my cell phone dinged and his name popped up on the screen.

Vicky please call me we need to talk.

I was surprised he hadn’t mentioned a 'sorry for your loss' along with his message. Thinking about him got me worked up. I didn’t want a relationship, but I was drawn to him. I couldn’t deny the attraction between us, and he was so persuasive in making me believe in him and myself. He got to me; he made me soft. He made me fall for him, dammit! Now my heart was hurting when he pushed me away. I didn’t want to be having thoughts about him at all, not when my focus should be on my poor papa and the shitty hand he was dealt in life. He clearly couldn’t handle things well, that’s for sure. It concerns me that Joe is the same, holding everything inside until one day something will have to give. The thoughts scared me and I was pulled back into the dark place I had been not too long ago.

The next day I would be standing beside Joe as family and friends entered the funeral home for the wake. The thought of standing there solemnly, while people passed us by telling us how sorry they were, made my stomach turn all over again. It made me feel like I wanted to run away and go anywhere but that funeral home tomorrow. I was sick of the apologetic looks and sick of all the bad. I wanted to throw my blanket off and head over to Ed’s, but if I got drunk I wouldn’t even have Nessa there to spew my negative thoughts to. Suddenly the idea of drinking alcohol nauseated me. I chose to go to sleep instead. I heard my phone beep again but I ignored it. Sleep was more enticing, maybe I could dream up a fairy tale or maybe I will realize that the nightmare that had become my life wasn’t real.

Chapter 23

Luc

I screwed up. I thought I had everything under control. I had maintained control for over two years. Then Vicky happened, I couldn’t help myself. I knew I was bad for her. I knew I had demons in my closet that threatened to escape, but she gave me hope. Looking into her sad green eyes made me realize that I had to make her happy. Dammit, I was making her happy, the dark jade in her eyes had blossomed into an emerald green that sparkled. I wanted to believe it was because of me, she said I gave her hope but it was the other way around. The truth was that she was good for me, and I wanted her like I never wanted another woman before. She was broken and I was broken and together we made sense, we didn’t need to fix each other because our relationship had been about acceptance. I had revealed all my truths, and she still wanted me for me. I never had such an open and honest relationship before and I gained her trust. That is what kills me the most.

When she found me drunk I didn’t know what to do. Honestly what could I do? As I was getting ready to leave my apartment for my meeting I got a phone call from an unknown caller. That never happened, only a few people knew my cell phone number and even long distance calls for business revealed the Caller ID.

Something in the pit of my stomach told me that my freedom was ending. I knew the time would come. I knew it was never mine to really have. It was a temporary gift that could be taken away at any moment, and the moment had come. I had branded the eagle tattoo on my chest, knowing that an eagle would fly free all his life, but it was never really meant to represent my freedom because my freedom wasn’t real. My father had locked me in a chamber long ago, with his powerful rhetoric of what it was to be a Blanchard. Thinking back to the days he abused me, I felt like I had a noose around my neck reminding me that I was captive to Maurice Blanchard.

He called to tell me that he knew I used family resources. He found it funny that I wanted to use the family’s clout when it suited me. Only he said that things didn’t work like that. I used one of the family’s contacts to break into Scott Wellington’s apartment and completely erase all his hard drives and even his cell phone. This simple act was essentially sending the message that I liked having access to that kind of power. The damn asshole that I sent to Wellington ratted me out after I had asked him not to mention it to my father. I even upped his payment to keep quiet. Of course what did I expect? People feared my father. Then my father revealed that my brother Henri was shot and killed. The Dubois, another prominent crime family, gunned down the same brother that shot me in the abdomen and tried to kill my ex.

Father explained that there was war between the Blanchard and Dubois families and the Dubois family felt powerful enough to take on the Blanchard’s since they had now killed Henri, the second in command to my father.

I had told my father I had no interest in returning. I told him to put Justin, my little brother, as second in command but he would not hear of it. To him there was something powerful about the idea of having the eldest son there to take over the reins. I continually rejected him and told him that there was no way I was coming home, nor was I walking into the bloodshed that would ensue from war. I figured they would all end up dead anyway. A war couldn’t be good and they chose to live a violent life. There were no winners in war.