He forced a smile.
“When I was free, able to make my own decisions, so far as the law was concerned, I craved going to the army believing it’d be the only place I’d fit. It was the only place where the rage was encouraged. I found that it was...necessary to an extent, but what was truly encouraged was the ability to mold it, to control it.
“I had to learn that the hard way. Once I did, that’s when I was free. In Will’s defense, he never tells the full story of how he came to save my life—makes me look like a victim instead of somebody who was asking for it. He saved me from a guy who deserved to take me out. He was a prisoner I leaned on pretty hard. The guy spit in my face, and I tried to beat him to death. I was stupid.” He shook his head again, the smile appearing more genuine.
“Stupid kid... I had attitude for days and a thing about respect—respect I was owed of course. It took four guys from my platoon to pull me off. Will was one of ’em.
“When he tackled me, the prisoner took his gun. Everybody froze but Will. He reacted. I shed a lot of my attitude that day. When he came to me down on his luck, I thought it was the least I could do...”
Qasim stood suddenly, looking to Vectra, who was then clutching the cushions along the back of her lounge chair for support.
“That’s all of it, V. The part of me I don’t share with anyone. Who I was isn’t who I am. It may’ve played a role in the shaping, but it doesn’t define me. Those dark areas crop up from time to time, but that’s life, and I fight their hold however I can. No way am I going back to what I was. The same is true for you.”
He advanced. “You have to believe that. You have to decide how long you’re gonna let it keep coming back to bite you.”
Qasim closed the distance remaining between them. Tugging her hand from the cushion, he kissed the back of it then brushed a lingering one to her cheek.
“I love you,” he said and was gone.
Chapter 18
Vectra stayed in Miami to be available for Yancey Croachman’s follow-up gallery appearance. She hadn’t planned on it until she’d received word that the Wilder Warriors Foundation event would be held in the city as opposed to her vineyard.
It was a smart move. The event had been pushed up to offset the drama with Will Lloyd. The man’s dismissal from his post and the details of that dismissal had already made the rounds through Wilder. The foundation’s planning committee, led once again by Minka Gerald, had decided to push up the annual fund-raiser before those details leaked over into public knowledge.
Though disappointed by the change in plan, Vectra knew it was a better move and had saved her household from being turned upside down. Still, the place had been abuzz with excitement regarding the gathering. Most, if not all, Carro employees had known or knew of someone who’d gone to school on a Wilder Foundation scholarship.
Vectra wouldn’t let herself believe that the final decision was in any way personal or that Qasim would hold a grudge. He’d said that he loved her, and she believed him. She felt the same. He’d bared his soul, and she...hadn’t done the same. But she didn’t need to, did she? Qasim was right. This was going to keep coming back to bite her unless she fought it and kept fighting. He had been so forthcoming with her. She had to verbalize her fears and verbalize them to the man she loved.
The Hembry Downtown had been the site of the Wilder Warriors Foundation events in years past. The hotel enveloped its visitors with a ’20s vibe. The architecture was understated elegance speaking to the charm of the era.
The Hembry was a testament to the jazz culture and speakeasy flavor of the time. It was the perfect setting for the event taking place that evening. The planned costume ball wasn’t scheduled until the following night, but Vectra figured she’d go on and get decked out in the spirit of things. She wore a dazzling silver fringe hem dress that adored her every curve just as the matching vintage-inspired T-strap pumps accentuated the stunning length of her legs. Her pixie cut was the perfect style for the evening and went well with the ’20s-fashion cloche hat.
May as well go all out, she thought. She had no idea how the evening might turn out. She might not be back to enjoy more of the extravaganza. Vectra closed her eyes, commanding herself not to think the worst. She tethered her thoughts and steadied her steps with the reminder that Qasim Wilder loved her.
A waiter, dressed in a classic tux befitting the time period, stopped to offer champagne. Vectra accepted a flute of the bubbly beverage without hesitation. She sipped, smiling faintly at the hint of fruit she detected in the otherwise dry blend. Covertly, she surveyed the crowd, eager to find Qasim and not quite sure what she’d say or do when she did.