by E. L. Todd
“I believe you.” There wasn’t sadness in her eyes like I expected there to be. There wasn’t even judgment. “I just…feel a connection between us. I can’t explain it… Do you know what I’m talking about?”
I did. I felt it the moment I met her. It was why I couldn’t stop going into The Grind even though I couldn’t stand the way her friend Marie gawked at me every two seconds. I saw a vision of our wedding reflected in Marie’s eyes. But I came back to see Francesca. And when she finally made it clear she wanted meaningless sex, I was very happy…but then I was wrong about that. “I guess.” Downplaying my feelings was all I knew.
“We both want different things and there’s nothing wrong with that. If that’s how you want to live your life, I won’t think less of you. And I want a husband with kids someday, and there’s nothing wrong with that either. You shouldn’t think less of me.”
“I don’t.” She’d never done a single thing to make me think less of her. In fact, I thought the world of her.
“I would love to be friends—real friends. No more creeping around the truth. Just honesty. It saves time.”
She didn’t think I was a disgusting pig? She just accepted me for who I was? She didn’t try to change me? It was that easy? “I would love that.” It was the only thing I could offer her other than fucking her a few times until I lost interest. In a way, this was better for both of us.
“Then you should go so you can catch up with Axel.” That look of disappointment I expected to see wasn’t there. “You don’t have to stay here just because of me. You don’t owe me anything.”
For the first time, I didn’t want to go out to a bar and pick up a girl. I didn’t want to take her to a hotel and fuck her a million ways. Actually, I wanted to stay there while the fire burned in the hearth. I wanted to look at the beautiful woman next to me and talk to her.
I wanted this—friendship.
Stabbed In The Heart
Hawke
Cynthia lay next to me on the bed. She snuggled into my side like a teddy bear and gripped me tightly. Her hand rested on my stomach and she sighed deeply every few minutes.
I didn’t like being touched.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” she asked in a raspy voice.
I didn’t mind doing back-to-backs, but I wasn’t feeling it with Cynthia. The sex was mediocre and I didn’t want another round. “I have plans.” I slid out of her embrace then sat at the edge of the bed. “You should get going, Cynthia. I have to work in the morning.”
She sat up with an offended look in her eyes. “What about after work?”
“Busy.” I grabbed her clothes from the floor and handed them to her. I told her exactly what this arrangement was, and I was irritated that she was trying to make it into something more. And I was even more irritated that she was acting like I was the bad guy.
“Are you always a dick?”
“When I’m treated like one.” I pulled on my boxers then checked the time. It was almost eleven.
She released an irritated sigh before she started to get dressed.
“Would you rather I lie to you? Would you rather I woo you then blow you off?” Lying to get into a woman’s pants was low. I had a few friends who did it on a regular basis, but they didn’t understand just how painful that was for the girl they left behind. I chose to be upfront about my intentions, right from the beginning. But somehow, I was an even bigger ass because of it.
“Shut up.” She chucked my alarm clock at me.
I caught it in midair then put it down. Her anger was starting to boil. She wasn’t getting her way and she didn’t like it one bit. She’d grown attached to me in our short time together, and she expected me to fall for her exceptionally good looks, soft hair, and her beautiful legs.
Not gonna happen.
She finished getting dressed then gave me a look of menace.
I chose to ignore her rage. “I can take you home if you don’t feel like driving.”
The coldness in her eyes didn’t fade. “You’re such a jerk. I’m amazing and any guy would be grateful to have me.”
Any woman that called herself amazing was way too vain for my taste. Confidence was nice and very sexy. But arrogance…not my thing. “I’m sure that’s true.” I did my best to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.
She grabbed her purse then stormed down the hallway.
She was going to call me for a booty call in a week.
I followed her to the door and opened it for her. “You okay to drive?”
“Like you give a damn.” She stormed out and disappeared down the hall.
I shut the door and locked it, glad she was finally gone. When I entered my bedroom, my phone was lit up with a text message. Francesca’s name was on the screen, and my irritation immediately evaporated. It was a picture of her shoving an enormous muffin into her mouth. There was a caption underneath. I saved you a few.
My lips pulled into an involuntary smile and my thumbs moved across the screen as I typed a message. Make sure you don’t eat mine.
I can’t promise anything but I’ll try.
Fatass.
Hey, we both know I have a beautiful ass.
I smiled again. You really do.
Come by The Grind tomorrow and I’ll hand them over.
If there are any left…
I’m giving you the bird right now.
And I deserve it. I stared at the screen for a few more minutes and hoped she would say something. Our conversations were one of the few things that made me happy. The rest of the time, I was dissolved in pure darkness.
When I knew she wasn’t going to say anything else, I set the phone on the nightstand and set my alarm.
Then it began to ring.
I grabbed the phone and checked the caller ID.
It was my mom.
I knew this wouldn’t be good. In fact, it would be terrible. I’d gotten this call so many times, and it never failed to ruin my day. I closed my eyes and released a deep sigh before I answered it. “Are you okay?”
Mom’s voice came out terrified over the line. “He’s bad again…” My father screamed in the background, and it sounded like things were crashing and breaking. “I’m in the bathroom. I don’t know what to do…” The tears in her voice made my hand form into a fist.
“Call the cops.”
“You know I can’t do that.”
I didn’t want to get sucked into this. I hated being a part of it. But I couldn’t turn my back on it either. I was the only thing keeping my mom out of an early grave.
“Theodore…”
“Hawke.” I hated that name. I refused to let anyone call me by it.
“Please.”
I wasn’t strong enough to separate my life from this. If I ever wanted to have a normal life, I needed to move on and never look back. But I knew I could never do that. “I’m on my way.”
***
As soon as I stepped inside the house, I saw broken furniture on the ground. Plates were shattered into pieces, wine bottles were smashed into piles where they’d fallen, and a chair had been broken into sticks.
“Open this door right now!” Dad was banging on the bathroom door. He shoved his weight against it like he was trying to open it. “Now!”
My body immediately tensed as I stormed down the hallway. Once I reached him, I grabbed him by the back of the neck then threw him down hard into the ground. My father used to torment me because he was much bigger than I was. But things had changed. I was the stronger one, and I never let him forget it. “You’re a worthless piece of shit.” I slammed his head down into the floor again and his eyes suddenly closed as he was knocked out. When he didn’t stir, I knew he would be out for a few hours. “Mom?”
She cried from inside the bathroom.
“Mom, he’s out.”
She sniffed loudly from inside.
“You can come out now.”
The door clicked as it unlocked and then it cracked open. Thin and frail, she looked dow
n at Dad. Instead of being happy he was knocked out, she looked sad like she pitied him.
It didn’t make any sense.
She wore a nightgown and her hair was almost gray. It lost its color many years ago. Her thin arms were bony, and she was more than a foot shorter than me. She stared at my father for a long time before she looked up at me. “Thank you, honey.”
“You okay, Mom?” I put my arm around her and examined her body for bruises. Fortunately, she had none.
She nodded slightly, her eyes still glued to his body on the floor.
“You want to stay with me tonight?”
She nodded again. “I don’t want to be here…”
I told her to leave him but she never listened to me. She was always too scared that he would come after her and do something much worse. When I contacted the police, Mom lied and acted like nothing was going on. There was nothing I could do to help someone who didn’t want to be helped.
The easiest thing would be to cut off all contact and move on with my life. I kept being dragged back because of this. But I’ll never forget the way my mother protected me when he came after me. She took more hits than I could imagine, breaking her arm in two different places. She wasn’t strong enough to protect herself but she always protected me.
And I would do the same for her. “Let’s go to my place.”
***
“Want some coffee?” The coffee pot beeped when it finished brewing.
“Sure.” Mom sat at the kitchen table, hunched over with tears still stained on her cheeks.
“Cream and sugar?”
“Yeah.” Her voice was so weak it sounded dead.
I carried the mug to the table and placed it in front of her. Then I sat across from her with mine. It was black—the way I usually took it.
Mom stared at her cup and didn’t take a drink.
I stared at her and didn’t know what to say. I already had this conversation so many times and I couldn’t have it anymore. It never went anywhere. I could never instill reason in her. The next morning, my dad would come and apologize. Of course, she would forgive him like nothing happened. A few weeks later, we’d be exactly where we are now.
What was the point?
I sipped my coffee and thought about Francesca. I wondered if she was sleeping. If she wasn’t, what was she doing? I imagined her baking muffins in her kitchen wearing a pink apron. The delicious smell filled the house, making it feel like Thanksgiving all over again.
“You drink it black?” Mom stared at my mug.
“Yes.” I automatically took another sip.
She returned her gaze to her own mug. “So much like your father…”
My hair immediately stood on end and adrenaline spiked in my blood. Mom always said that like it was some kind of compliment. We looked the same, we talked the same, and now we drank coffee the same. I hated being compared to him…especially when I knew the similarities were true. “You can have my room. I’ll sleep on the couch.” I’d have to change the sheets. It would be awkward if my mother knew what I was doing in there just an hour ago.
“Thank you, sweetheart.” She sipped her coffee and stared at the table.
Like always, we acted like nothing just happened. We pretended that our lives were perfectly normal like everyone else’s. We had holidays just like the rest of society, and we were happy just like every other family.
But no matter how much we pretended, it never came true.
***
I killed the engine and sat outside her house. A light was on in one of the bedrooms, and I wondered if it was Francesca’s. Maybe she was working late on a paper. Or maybe she was reading.
I texted her. You awake?
She responded immediately. Who wants to know?
Her playful attitude always made me smile. Only she could pull that off. My mom was sleeping in my bed at that very moment, and my dad was still passed out in the hallway. But that seemed so far away. A very hungry man.
You want muffins at this time of night?
Don’t judge me.
You want to come over?
Would it creep you out if I said I was in front of your house?
Yes…that’s very creepy.
LOL. I can circle the block if that makes you feel better.
No. That’s creepier.
I laughed to myself. Your muffins make me crazy.
I get that a lot.
I rolled my eyes then got out of the truck. Open the door. I headed to the porch and stood under the light.
Francesca opened it, wearing plaid pajama shorts and a white tank top. Her hair cascaded around her shoulders and her face was free of make up. It was the first time I’d seen her that way, and I was surprised by how beautiful she looked. Most of the time, girls looked like a completely different person without make up. But she…somehow looked better.
Francesca grew self-conscious under my stare. “Don’t expect me to look like a beauty queen at one in the morning.”
“I don’t.” I stepped inside and moved into the kitchen. “But I don’t expect you to look like a monster either…”
She swatted my arm playfully. “If you want my muffins, you better not be a jerk.”
I searched the counters and looked for her newest creation.
“They’re in here.” She opened a glass lid to a display case, and the muffins were set on a thin sheet of white paper.
I sat beside her. “What are they?”
“Almond vanilla muffins.”
“Hmm…sounds good.” I grabbed one and immediately took a bite. “Damn, this is good. What’s your secret?”
“Like I would tell a soul.” She grabbed one for herself then picked at it.
“Come on, you can tell me.” I turned toward her and kept eating.
“Hell no. You’ll steal my recipe.”
“And do what with it?” I asked. “Do I look like a baker to you?”
“You can sell it online.”
“I doubt anyone would buy it,” I jabbed. I finished the treat then wiped my fingers on a napkin. “You’re really going to wait until after college to start your business? You should just do it now.”
“I don’t have any money.” She picked at the remaining crumbs inside the delicate paper.
“It’s called a loan.”
“I don’t have any collateral. Axel said he would let me borrow some when he starts making more money. I’ll just have to wait.”
I wished I could loan her some money. Honestly, I didn’t have much at the moment. I needed to get through my internship so I could move away and pursue my dream in Manhattan. For now, I didn’t have anything to give. “Maybe you can get a truck and do it that way. I’ve seen people do that.”
She shook her head. “No. I want a real bakery where people sit down and read a newspaper while they enjoy their coffee. That’s the way it’s supposed to be done. I want to know my customers. You know, have a relationship with them.”
I wasn’t a people person. In fact, I hated them. “Then stick to your dream and be patient.”
“Besides, it gives me more time to perfect my craft.”
I eyed the muffins but didn’t take another one. “I think you’ve perfected it enough.”
“My kids are going to be fat,” she said with a chuckle. “And it’ll be all my fault.”
I could picture her as a mom. Her kids would come home from school and she would kiss each one on the head. Then her husband would walk inside, handsome and strong. He would embrace her like he loved her—every day. The image made me sad but I couldn’t figure out why. “But they’ll still be cute if they inherit your beautiful ass.”
She chuckled. “If only…”
We fell into comfortable silence. The nice thing about Francesca was the conversation. Most girls I knew didn’t know when to shut up. They rambled on because they were uncomfortable. But she was confident in her skin. Letting the silence stretch on didn’t bother either one of us. I wasn’t even that comfortable with Axel.
/>
“You really came over here just for a muffin?” Her voice turned serious, not playful like it was a moment before.
I didn’t want to tell her the real reason I was over there. I wasn’t comfortable telling anyone. It was something I’d take to the grave. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Neither could I.”
“Something on your mind?” I felt bad asking her questions when I wouldn’t answer them in return. But she didn’t seem to mind.
“I had a bad dream. I haven’t been able to close my eyes since.”
When I looked into her eyes, I saw the anxiety deep within. “You know what I do?”
“Hmm?”
“I pick my favorite song and try to sing it backwards in my head.”
“Does that work?”
I nodded. “It blocks out all other thoughts and allows me to fall asleep.”
“I guess I could try that…”
“What was your nightmare about?” I rested my arms on the table.
She looked out the kitchen window with a dazed expression on her face. Her lips were pressed tightly together like she was having an internal debate. “Nothing…”
Disappointment flushed through me but I knew it was unfair. How could I expect her to trust me when I didn’t trust her? “How was your day?”
“Good. I had a date tonight.”
My heart picked up slightly but I didn’t react. My hair stood up on the back of my neck, and for the first time that night, I felt uncomfortable. I’d just had a round of meaningless sex with a girl whose name I couldn’t remember, but hearing Francesca say that she had a date made me feel cold. “How’d it go?”
She shrugged. “It was fine. But I don’t think I’ll go out with him again.”
“What didn’t you like about him?”
“I don’t know…there just wasn’t a spark there. When we kissed on the doorstep, I didn’t feel anything.”
When I kissed her, it felt like a damn fireworks show. That night still came to me at the most random times, mainly when I was in bed with someone. “It sounds like he isn’t the right one.”
“No, he isn’t.” She picked at the wrapper in her fingers. “I don’t think the right one exists anymore.”
