by A. L. Woods
This was the man who had parked outside my high school every day, waiting for me on the hood of his car. Who had bought me ice cream and played with my hair when we watched movies together. Who had promised me dreams that he would never be able to manifest into fruition. The man on my back now with his hands sandwiched roughly in my hair was not the one who’d given me my first kiss, and not the first person to tell me he loved me.
This man was someone else.
“Get the fuck off of me,” I shrieked, wrestling under him.
My scalp throbbed when he pulled my hair roughly, my neck curving to lessen the strain. I felt his mouth at the shell of my ear. “Why. Were. You. In. Cheltenham.”
“Let me go.” I reached wildly for his hands the way I had my ma, clawing at him.
His fingers tightened in my hair. I thrust my hands over his, digging the tips of my nails into his knuckles, but unlike Ma, he wouldn’t let go.
“Why were you in Cheltenham?” he repeated.
I grimaced. The stinging ache lit up in the rest of my body as my fight-or-flight instincts kicked in. “Because I wanted the truth.”
“The truth?” he snarled in my ear. “Stop searching for answers that you don’t want to know, Cherry.”
My body stilled under his, my breaths ragged. What had he just said? The message slammed into my brain receptors, drawing forward the archive that housed my memories with a violent fury that almost made me sick. I was eighteen again, my fingers curling under the handle of his car door. The stale scent of sex and cheap cotton-candy perfume slammed into me.
My ma’s words resounded in my mind.
The answer to that is closer than you think—if you would just open your pretty brown eyes and look.
No. No. There was no way.
Our neighborhood had refused to give me any information about the girl he had been fooling around with, not because they were bound to their loyalty.
But he’d said it, hadn’t he?
Stop searching for answers you don’t want to know.
Our neighborhood had kept quiet because they knew the information would irrevocably destroy me.
They had felt sorry for me.
The final puzzle piece snapped into place.
“Oh, my God,” I whispered.
Numbness suffused me, that hollowed out feeling making my limbs grow weak, extinguishing all the fight out of me. Somehow Cash knew I had figured it out, for in that moment his grip on my hair released, my mind barely registering the burning in the back of my head that permeated. Cash tensed on top of me for a split second before his arms snaked around my middle and he squeezed with so much care and gentleness that the dichotomy of it all temporarily suspended me in a state of shock.
The violence was gone, and in its place, a child who had just been caught with his hands in the cookie jar. A cookie jar that had never belonged to him. My mouth went dry, the words working painfully up the tract of my throat.
“Was it you?” I moaned.
His nose buried itself in my hair, his inhales sharp and deep, like he was panicking.
I asked the question knowing the answer, but I couldn’t keep the denial out of my voice. “It was you, wasn’t it?”
All this time, Dom had been covering for him—why? Something told me I would never know. I flashed a metaphorical flashlight in his direction, watching the monster wither under the harsh assault of the bright lights. He shrunk himself, shirking away from me with his hands braced in front of his face.
The distress that lined his face gave him away, remorse brimming in his red-rimmed eyes.
“Get off of me,” I pleaded, the panic kicking in. “Please, please, get off of me.” I peeled his hands away, and this time, he didn’t resist.
He scrambled to his feet and ran a hand through his hair. “Raquel, you have to understand.”
I crawled on all fours, ignoring the blistering smarting that resided in my knees and the trail of blood I left behind as I writhed away from him. I had demanded myself to remain calm, but I couldn’t control the anguished weep that left me and was swallowed by the sky.
He had betrayed me.
My roots had betrayed me.
My mother had betrayed me.
And so had my sister.
Ultimately, I’d betrayed myself, too, because I hadn’t wanted to see it. I turned onto my ass, shuffling away from him in a backward crawl. I kicked my legs outward when he tried to approach me, as if the threat of getting knocked in the balls again would be enough to keep him at bay. “My sister? How could you do that to me?”
He didn’t deserve to look at me helplessly, but he did. His face twisted with agony, terror, and fear, as if harboring the secret for all these years had nearly destroyed him—but I saw it for what it was: distress that he had gotten caught.
“I made a mistake,” Cash cried, throwing his hands to his scalp, palms scraping against his cropped hair.
I pushed to my feet, hot tears leaving a stained trail on either sides of my cheeks that I thought would crystallize there with the cold chill in the air. Why couldn’t I stop their steady stream?
“It was a mistake, Raquel. My biggest one ever, okay?” He held his hands up in surrender, like that would be enough to diffuse my anger as he approached.
“A mistake?” I rushed at him, shoving him backward, leaving bloody palm prints against the front of the white shirt he wore under his jacket. It was a fitting indelible mark on him that he would never get rid of, just like I would never be able to recover from this.
Cash’s body shifted this time, he was no longer the ten-ton weight with cement in his shoes, because I was the fucking tornado that leveled him to the ground. “You fucked my baby sister. She was seventeen!” He cowered when I raised my hand at him and accepted the punishment when I struck him with my closed fist. After several brutal strikes, he flung his hands over his face when my fists traveled to less even terrain. I wanted disfigurement. I wanted to make sure he never got the chance to do this to another woman again. I wanted the world to see his ugliness the way that I did.
He staggered away from me, his face ashen, eyes molting with pain he fucking rightfully deserved. “It was a mistake,” he kept repeating, like a broken record. I shook my head, driving his words from my head before they could plant themselves in my mind, where the weeds would inevitably germinate and spread.
“What part, Tobias?” I asked, grinding my molars. “The part where you slept with her while you were dating me, or the part where you got her pregnant, too?”
His gangly body trembled, his eyes avoiding mine. “All of it,” he shook his head. “I didn’t mean—”
“Save it!” I shouted, slamming my foot into the ground. “I don’t want to hear your stories or your bullshit anymore. I’m done.”
“Cherry—”
“Stop calling me that!” I screamed, unable to keep the emotion from my voice. I didn’t care who heard me anymore. My virginity should have never been his.
“You are the reason she died that night. It’s your fault, not mine.” I had blamed myself for years for what I had believed had been an avoidable accident. Holly Jane had wanted to be honest with me, she had been trying to warn me. That had been the reason behind her anguished pleas that I had ignored. She had been chain calling Dom in a last-ditch effort to stop me from doing something she knew I wouldn’t have had the stomach to handle if I knew the truth.
My kid sister had been right.
A panic attack dropped a veil over my vision, the ground before me blurring. My body swayed, cold sweat breaking out all over. The world felt like it was spinning out in front of me, and nothing I did would make that feeling stop.
I turned around too fast and slammed straight into someone whose body felt pillowy upon our collision. I shrieked as gentle hands came around my arms, my eyes shooting open. Terror coursed through my veins as I struggled to reconcile who was standing before me.
Earl’s face was lined with concern, his mouth a worried sliver.
“Raquel.”
My inward humiliation speared, unshed tears flooding my eyes as he raked his worried stare over my frame as if he was checking each strand of hair on my head for injury, his hands still affixed to my arms. My body felt boneless under Earl’s hold, he was the only thing keeping upright and he didn’t even realize it—and for some reason, that made the tears flow faster.
I had told myself when I got this job that I would never be one of those employees. The vulnerable one. The one who cried at her desk, who would allow her mind to prolapse into her past, who would bring her personal life to the office. I had committed to being nothing like my family, or my neighbors.
But in this moment, I was no different. I was a sniveling mess caught in the kind stare of a man who I had secretly mocked for years. My body vibrated in Earl’s tenderhearted grasp, my hand going to my throat as I struggled to catch my next breath, each sound I made more pained than the last. Cash’s footsteps behind me had me practically ripping Earl’s hands clear from my body, the fear taking hold as I tried to flee. Earl held onto me; his wide eyes magnified behind his too-small-for-his-face glasses. He looked over my shoulder, his rotund body suddenly appearing firm and strong, though he had always come across as anything but.
In a voice that could have cut glass, stern and reedy, Earl said to Cash, “Young man, you have ten seconds to evacuate the premises before I call the police.”
I thought I heard Cash growl, but Earl didn’t so much as bat an eyelash. He was a thick human shield who wasn’t going to let Cash come anywhere near me.
And I was everything I hated—a vitreous shattered mess with no hope of being pieced back together.
“Raquel,” Cash’s voice broke, releasing another onslaught of hot fresh tears from me. His hopeful eyes regarding me like I might change my mind only made my lids squeeze shut. Earl’s arms circled my upper back, and I buried my face in the crook of his thick neck.
“Just go, Cash,” I said, my voice muffled. “Go away for good.”
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
I nearly ripped the door of The Advocate free from its hinges. It flung back against the brick wall, nearly clipping Penelope, who trailed behind me. I was going to tear that motherfucker limb from fucking limb. It had taken everything in me to keep me from driving straight to Southie with a crowbar and taking that piece of shit out myself.
Dougie had made Penelope accompany me just to keep me in line, with him tailing us in his truck. My body was like a bowling ball plummeting down the lane as I rushed down the narrowed corridor until I was standing in front of Sheryl’s desk. The woman was a mass of nerves, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.
She placed a shaking hand to her throat. “She’s in the boardroom.”
A hush permeated throughout the office when I breached the inner sanctum, Dougie and Penelope close behind me. “Sean, slow down.”
“Fuck off, Penelope.”
“Christ,” Dougie growled. “Watch it, Tavares.”
I glared at him over my shoulder. If I couldn’t take out Cash’s kneecaps, I would have no qualms taking out those of my best friend instead. But Dougie met my eyes dead on, a storm brewing in them that reminded me that he wasn’t the enemy, but he would match my strikes with equal force if he had to.
I jerked my chin away, my eyes quickly finding the frosted windows of the boardroom. The lights were off, and the door closed. I didn’t even bother knocking. The door swung open, hitting the stopper. What I saw sent my stomach to the floor and my heart to my throat.
I was getting pretty damn sick and tired of seeing her like this.
Raquel didn’t even lift her eyes to look at me. A short man with glasses that looked better suited for a doll was seated across from her, his confused stare bouncing between Dougie and I.
Recognition lit up his expression when Penelope cut in front of me, blocking my way. He rose to his feet and approached her. “Penelope,” he said, pushing on the middle of his glasses, sliding them further up the bridge of his button nose. “Thank you for coming.”
Penelope provided him with the weak smile her upbringing demanded of her, but it was gone as soon as the polite pleasantries were over and she took one good look at her best friend.
“Kell,” Penelope’s voice was a whisper I barely perceived as she broke away, clearing my path.
I moved faster than she did, this time stepping in front of Penelope, hindering her. “Hey,” I said, bending at the waist to meet Raquel’s eyes. She turned her head, staring at the floor. Tucking my fingers under her chin, I tilted her head back in my direction. Hesitation flooded her features, but slowly, her gaze lifted to mine. “Are you okay?” It was such a stupid question, she was clearly anything but. It was the only thing I could think to ask while fighting off the urge to examine every part of her right down to the strands of hair on her head to make sure that all of her was intact. Her hands were bandaged, her pants scraped at the knees.
Her bottom lip trembled. Maybe the connection was too much because she pulled her chin away, creating distance. Her body wilted in the black plastic chair, her stare dropping once more. The bandages would eventually come off, but whatever had happened, whatever had been said to her…those invisible wounds might not ever heal. It made me angry that there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it, because I hadn’t asked her outright this morning why she was being evasive. I thought allowing her to come to me was the right thing to do. I was wrong, and the evidence of my error sat in the chair in front of me, appearing as though she wanted nothing more than to just disappear. I should have called her when I noticed she went the wrong way; I should have trusted my gut instincts…I could have prevented this. She was mine to protect, mine to keep safe, and I’d fucked up.
He was going to pay.
I straightened and stepped back, my anger a pulse in my ears. Penelope inched forward, crouching at Raquel’s feet. Penelope turned Raquel’s palms over, examining the bandages that had been affixed to her skin.
“Where is he?” I spat. We all knew he was gone, but with that fucker…one could never be too certain.
Raquel’s colleague—I suspected her boss—looked at me, his Coke-bottle eyes blinking. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met.”
Before I could say something that would have inevitably gotten my ass tossed out of here, Dougie intervened. “I’m Douglas Patterson.” He jutted a hand forward, and the man accepted it in his chubby grasp. “I’m a friend of Raquel’s.” He gestured in my direction. “And this ball of pent-up testosterone is Sean Tavares. He’s—”
“My boyfriend,” Raquel cut in, her eyes pinning me in my place. The hesitation from before was gone. Why the fuck was I suddenly weak in the knees? I wanted to lift her off of her feet, shove her in the car and drive…drive somewhere far and fast, to a place where nothing or no one could find her.
My throat worked at the lump. I tore my eyes away from her, glancing down at the short man who stood in front me. He appeared nonplussed, swinging his gaze from Raquel to me.
“Oh my, I seemed to have had it all confused, then,” he said, wringing his hands in front of him. “My apologies. I mistook the young man in the parking lot for her boy—”
“Hey, Earl?” Penelope cut him off before he could finish that unfortunate sentence. She was a politician’s wife in that moment, rising to her feet looking every bit as poised and graceful as taxpayers’ money could buy. “Could you please give us the room? And if you wouldn’t mind,” she added, picking up the untouched mug from the table and passing it to him, “a fresh cup of tea. Chamomile, please.”
Fuck the politician’s wife; Penelope was the politician.
“If you could just leave it on the credenza outside the door,” she sweetly concluded.
I squeezed my eyes together, grateful for her intervention. The man had seen me as a liability. Penelope knew how to read a room—thank God for that. I decided then that as soon as this shit was over, I was going to tell the damn world Raquel was mine. The asshole
in front of me at the gas station who didn’t pay at the pump? Broad taking too long to cross the intersection? My nosey fuck of a neighbor who I’d caught leering at Raquel this morning? They’d all know the extent of which this woman possessed my heart. Every single irrelevant fuck would know that she was mine and I was hers; there’d be no further opportunity for future confusion.
“Oh, yes, Penelope; certainly.” Earl’s fingers clamped around the mug, eyes hopeful as he regarded her like a preschooler waiting for praise on a macaroni art project. “Can I do anything else for you?”
“That’s fine for now. Thank you, Earl.” He whirled on the ball of his foot and was out of there faster than any of us could say “chamomile.”
“I don’t like the way that guy looked at you,” Dougie growled to Penelope after the door closed behind Earl. Penelope rolled her eyes at him, squaring her shoulders. I almost mirrored her gesture.
“Now’s not the time.” She inched toward Raquel again, dropping her weight into the chair Earl had just vacated. “What happened?”
Raquel leaned back in her seat, her arms crushing around her chest. She worked her teeth back and forth over her bottom lip, entrenching us in anxious suspense. My worry girded me on to speak up, but one shake of Dougie’s head in my direction and I knew that I was not only risking that fistfight I was looking for from him, but I’d end up with the exact opposite reaction I wanted from Raquel.
Dougie pushed off of the wall I hadn’t noticed him leaning against, his footsteps laconic as he rounded the circular table and dropped his hulking frame into a chair that squeaked under his weight. He kicked his chin toward the one next to him. Whether I wanted to or not, my legs made the decision for me, and I planted my ass in the chair. The boardroom was small, nothing more than a cheap Formica-topped round table and a bunch of black plastic chairs.
“I got a lot more than I bargained for,” Raquel whispered.
