Page 27 of Risk (Mayhem Makers: MMM #3)

CHAPTER

TWENTY-SIX

McKenna

Risk sent me a text letting me know that they most likely wouldn’t be back tonight and he wanted me to sleep in his bed.

But I’m too restless to close my eyes, so I grab one of the books Demi handed me earlier in the evening and walk out onto the back porch and crack it open.

I smile when I see the intro page and Luna’s name is scripted there—loud and proud.

I’ve always envied authors and their ability to put a pen to paper and bring stories to life.

I’ve had an active imagination throughout my life, but I don’t think I’d have the forethought to build an entire world around a group of make-believe people.

As I read Ryder and Marlee’s romance unfold, it feels familiar.

“How could you, Ryder? Didn’t I mean more to you than this?” Marlee cries, her hands laid over her chest where it feels like her heart is breaking in half.

Is this how their relationship ends? With her soul detached from her body, her shoulders deflate. Her self-esteem unconsolable after such a monstrous hit to it.

“Was she worth it?” Marlee asks, peering up at Ryder through her thick eyelashes.

“Nothing is worth losing you over, Marlee. I made a mistake, baby. One mistake, can’t you forgive me?” Ryder asks, lowering his body until he’s on a bent knee.

“A mistake?” Marlee hisses, disappointment raining over her in a downpour.

Shouting, “A mistake is picking up the wrong brand of laundry detergent at the supermarket, not going with a woman to her room and sleeping with her!” Anger swamps her and in a fit of rage, she walks over to where Ryder is bent over and begins whaling on him.

He holds up his hands to protect his face, but other than that, he doesn’t try to defend himself, knowing he’s earned every ounce of her fury.

“I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” she chants between each blow to his upper body.

“I know you do, sunshine. I know you do. I’ve earned that hate, baby girl. Let it out, give me your pain,” Ryder says.

“Dear God,” I mumble, setting the book down on my lap, now knowing why it sounds so familiar.

That’s exactly how mine and Risk’s night ended all those years ago after he came around to his senses.

I had called for help after storming out of that motel room and the guys showed up, got him dressed and out of that room then took him back to our campsite where things degenerated.

I didn’t let him sleep off the sedative because I didn’t know that was necessary, instead, I went to town on him.

I said some pretty nasty shit to him and couldn’t keep my fists from connecting with whatever part of his flesh I could reach.

I had never been so angry in my entire life, not even after my stepfather thrust me into a life of subjugation.

“I wish Demi hadn’t given you that book to read,” Luna says, her voice barely above a whisper. “If I had known that was the one she handed you, I would’ve taken it away and given you another one.”

Glancing up at her, I smile because she has Jett swaddled in a blanket and perched on her shoulder, bouncing him. “I’m not upset, Luna. It’s interesting seeing things written from another’s point of view on how that night played out.”

“He didn’t voluntarily tell me about it, Kenna. He got wasted one night after we saw you at the store and I probed him. I wanted him to get it off his chest where I hoped he’d be able to move on. That kinda backfired on me though,” she explains.

“How?” I inquire, curious about how it affected him.

“He withdrew from us,” she describes. “He sat on the sidelines, would smile when a situation called for it, but it felt fake, insincere, perpetuated.”

“All for show,” I add. “It’s what he does when he doesn’t want anyone to dig deeper and try to get him to open up.”

“Wish Demi and I had known that before we attempted a drunken intervention,” Luna confesses. “But a drunk Risk is a truthful Risk.”

“Isn’t that the damn truth,” I snort. “If you ever want to know how he genuinely feels about something, ask him when he’s intoxicated and his inhibitions are lowered. Only, you have to keep in mind that if it may end up hurting your feelings, stay clear of the topic because he won’t hold back.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen Conan walk away to lick his wounds after one of their chats,” Luna giggles.

“Conan’s more sensitive than people give him credit for being,” I tell her. “He wears a mask on the outside, but on the inside, he’s a marshmallow.”

“I’d love to be given a heads up when you plan on telling him that’s what you think about him, Kenna.”

“I can make that happen,” I say, because I’ve said it to him before.

I’d never say anything behind his back that I wouldn’t say to his face.

I have to admit, however, that he tends to overreact and is known to pout until you correct yourself and tell him he’s big and bad.

But on the other hand, you have to be careful not to overinflate his ego—it’s already immense enough that he floats around like a peacock with his chest puffed out.

“Should I apologize for writing about the worst time of your life, Kenna?”

“I wouldn’t say it was the worst, but it is in the top five,” I honestly answer.

“But no, I don’t think you should apologize for it, Luna.

I’m not offended nor am I upset. I don’t mind being fictionalized, and if I’m being honest, I can’t wait to read the rest. I’d like to know how you managed to rectify this and them.

Is it a true romance, or do they go their separate ways? ”

“You’ll have to read to find out,” she sing songs, a smirk on her lips. “If I’d known y’all would work things out, I would’ve waited to write and release it so I could see how you two handle things.”

“Nah,” I say, waving what she said away. “I bet it’d be boring for your readers. They’d want more drama and angst than what I could give them.”

Her brows raise into her hairline as she asks, “You don’t think they’d have their hearts racing when they discovered about your past and how it’s collided with your future?

I couldn’t come up with anything as jaw dropping as what’s taking place in real time.

I didn’t make you the hero and survivor you should’ve been portrayed as in that novel, Kenna.

I didn’t give you the justice you deserve. ”

“I’m not a hero, Luna,” I disagree. “A survivor, yes, but not a hero. I see myself as one of the villains.”

“Then you don’t see yourself in the way the rest of us do. That’s a shame, Kenna. It really is. Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” I say, shrugging my shoulders. “You can ask me anything. It doesn’t mean I’ll answer, there are still some things I’m uncomfortable speaking about but there’s nothing wrong with you being curious.”

“If it was me in your place, Kenna, how would you view me?”

“If our roles were switched? I don’t know, Luna, I’m not good at role reversal.”

“Would you hate me for putting Jett first? Would you hold that against me?”

“Absolutely not! I’m a mother too, Luna.”

“I think before having Jett, I wouldn’t have appreciated why you did what you did. It takes one mother to comprehend another mother’s sacrifices. It’s time for you to forgive yourself, Kenna. The rest of us already have.” With that said, she leaves me alone with those words.

“Forgive myself,” I mumble, lifting the book back up and reading the cover. “Sacrifices and Forgiveness. What an appropriate title for the book and my life,” I muse.

I spend the next hour lost in thought, imagining Luna in my place. When it finally clicks and I do give myself some grace, a weight is lifted from my chest.

“I forgive us both, Risk,” I say to the cosmos. “I’m ready.” Just saying that is more freeing than when the wind blows through my hair. “I’m really ready to move on. Fuck you, Marshall, you don’t get to take the rest of my life from me. I won’t let you steal my happiness.”