“I think you should let him take a breather for right now, Tracey,” Scott suggests.
“I’m just going to tell him I’m leaving, Scott.” I head for the door, and Scott throws his arm out, blocking me.
“No, Tracey. He’s not here. He’ll be back before we are. But for now, give him some space.”
Nathan, I’m sorry. Okay? I’m not used to hearing give him some space. Nathan is my space. And I’m supposed to be his. We’re supposed to have this tell me, talk about anything relationship, and when I need him, he needs space. I’m not mad. I get it. But it would be nice if he was at my side, helping me through this because I know there’s something wrong with me.
Nathan doesn’t respond, and an ache that’s not my own tightens my muscles. My hands shake, feeling his distress mixed with my own.
“Tracey, I promise I never intended for this to happen,” Taylor tells me.
“I told you not to talk to her!” Glen barks, looking daggers at Taylor. “Only because you’re Scott’s cousin is why I haven’t whooped your ass yet. But I promise if you keep pushing it.” Glen charges at Taylor.
I grab Glen’s arm, pulling her back. “It’s fine, Taylor. Come on, Glen. I want to get out of here.” Glen thinks she can fight the world and win. I appreciate she has my back and will fight for me, but it’s not worth it.
Glen snatches her arm from me, look of disbelief and disgust. “I can’t believe you, Tracey.” She leaves me.
I roll my eyes, following out behind her. Taylor mouths “Thank you.” I nod giving her what I hope is a smile stretching my lips.
I’m forced to accompany Glen, Scott, and Olar to a get-together Olar knew about with humans and non-humans. He said that because there are humans here, no one will try anything. The whole risk of exposure thing. It’s a bonfire, about an hour from Nathan’s house, near the lake.
It couldn’t be more people here, crowded around the fire and the cars and trucks pulled onto the grass to provide the music.
I’m not in a partying mood and was quickly forgotten the second we got here.
Glen’s dancing with Scott and hasn’t thought about looking my way since they started. Olar stays by me as he talks with every single person at this party. We’ve been here for over two hours already, and I couldn’t be more bored, lamely standing back, arms crossed, all my weight thrown on my right leg, watching Glen enjoy herself. And as if I couldn’t just lamely stand here by myself, guys, who I assume may be human, approach me trying to spark small talk. And here comes guy number nine.
Mr. Blonde Hair and Blue Eyes extends his hand, greeting, “Hi. I’m Chris. You wanna dance?” He smiles, waggling his eyebrows.
My gaze falls on his hand, then lifts back to his face. I kindly shake my head. He gives me puppy dog eyes and I turn away from him to find Olar.
Chris expresses his dislike for my rejection with some unkind words to my back. I ignore him. It’s better for him that I do because I could definitely blast him in the face with him calling me a name. He doesn’t know that I’m saving us from a catastrophic event. See, I’ll touch one of these guys, and we’ll get the shock from hell, or I’ll tell them no, and they end up not being human and then I’m stuck with another Roehl. I’m flattered, really. It’s definitely a confidence booster. But it’s better to walk away.
I take Olar’s side, leaning against him.
“Ay, Olar. This your new girl?”
I don’t respond for him. Something doesn’t feel right about speaking to them. Plus, if I open my mouth to speak, a scream would escape in replacement of my words.
“No, this is Nathan,” he informs.
And these guys aren’t human. I can tell by Olar’s response in ownership. This is Nathan. Not, she is Nathan’s girl. But this object who walks and breathes, who is currently standing next to me unable to speak to you because her mate is not here to give her permission . . . belongs to Nathan. So damn dominatingly cli-freaking-ché.
The three guys standing in front of Olar noses flare. One, with more piercings than Olar, states, “Clearly,” conclusively.
I guess I’m potent with Nathan.
“I was wondering where Nate’s been? I haven’t seen him in a while. We thought he was laying low.” The tallest of the three, with long hair hanging around his face, glances at me then quickly away. He’s another Nathan has spooked.
Olar laughs. “You know Nate doesn’t lay low.”
I think to ask what’s going on that would cause him to lay low, but hold it as they continue.
They chat, and no one speaks to me or looks back at me again. I try to ignore them as they scope out the girls and comment on their latest “bagging” encounters. I guess if women had more respect for themselves they’d treat us more like trophies instead of condoms—Cum in and toss away.
Noticing the wavering glares that shoot at me from the girls passing, I realize I might be leaning on Olar too much. Because to them, it probably doesn’t look like I’m only leaning on my cousin.
“Sorry,” I tell Olar, straightening. I also may be cock blocking.
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. You were saving me from a few frequent flyers I’ve been trying to avoid.”
No sooner than I walk away, a leggy brunette takes my place. Figures.
I come up on Glen and Scott dancing near the fire. Grabbing her shoulder, I ask, “Can we go now?”
She gives me the sad face, never stopping her dirty dancing grinding with Scott.
“Why’d you bring me to a party knowing I can’t talk or dance with anyone? This isn’t fun for me,” I tell her. She pretends to ignore me. “You’re an ass, Glen.”
“Hey! Don’t I know you?” comes from a voice all too familiar. Its owner taps my shoulder.
I face loudmouth, Melissa—the girl with a habit of stopping by Nathan’s house and causing ruckus—and three other girls. One redhead, I recognize as Annabelle, with whom Melissa shared Nathan. They both have their fun with calling and texting Nathan at all hours of the night. “No. You don’t,” I answer, turning back to Glen, who’s now stopped dancing.
“Yes, I do. You’re my ex-boyfriend’s new toy.” Toy!
Turning back around, I peacefully reply, “I told you, you do not know me. And he was never anything to you.” This is about to escalate to something I told myself to avoid. But because I’m already on my last straw, I can’t just turn the other cheek and walk away. I need to release the anger, and I wouldn’t mind releasing it on her.
Her tan-bed bathed arms fall to her sides. “That’s not what I remember him saying. And I guarantee you he’ll remember me long after you’re gone. And I know he thinks about me while he’s with you.”
Girls must think lines like that work when they’re old news. I laugh. She doesn’t make me mad, she just gets under my skin. I turn away, leaving her before I do something I’ll later regret.
“That’s right you stupid wench, walk off.”
“Oh no, she didn’t,” Glen mutters.
Whipping around, I spit, “You weren’t shit, but pu—” A sledgehammer of a fist crashes down on my mouth. I stumble back, grabbing my chin. My blood boils as my hand falls away from my mouth, splatters of crimson tenting my blackening palm. Dammit, this girl packs a punch. I lick the corner of my mouth. I taste metallic, and it stings. Fuming with anger, I eye her, weighing my options. She picked a great day to make me mad.
Lifting my foot from the ground to go after her, I retract. “Don’t do it, Tracey,” Olar warns, pushing down my drawn back fist.
“Well, if Tracey can’t do it, I sure as hell will,” Glen says from my side, pushing past Olar. Before she can gather two steps, Scott has his arm wrapped around her waist. “You won’t either,” he tells her, pulling her back.
Loudmouth talks good stuff on the other side of Olar. I press my palms together, pleading, “Olar, you need to let me do this. Please?”
“No, Tracey. You might kill that girl. And you’re mad about other things too. Let Nathan kno
w you’re okay even if he doesn’t respond.”
I ignore his request. If Nathan cared, he’d be here.
Glen tries to pull away from Scott. “Olar, move. She hit her first and deserves to get her ass handed to her.”
Loudmouth laughs, saying, “She will be handling nothing.” Her friends follow in her titters. “Too short, tell my man I said to come find me when he’s kicked you to the curb.” She winks and flashes her whitening stripped smile.
Turning to Glen, I nod, saying, “I’m gonna blast her.”
“Do it,” she encourages.
“Tracey, do not do that here,” Olar says, chuckling.
Goosebumps pinch my skin as my mates demanding presence takes over this area. I alternate between feeling happy, angry, and sad because I know he will find a way to talk me out of introducing loudmouth’s face to my fist and then the ground.
As Olar’s turning, I veer around him, watching Nathan approach Melissa. “You couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?” he says to her. “How hard is it for you to back the fuck off?” Melissa peeps a rebuttal, and Nathan waves her off. “You were just a good blowjob and a quick fuck. That’s it.” Pointing past her to me, he says, “She’s a heartbeat.”
Melissa stands silent. I can’t see her face, but she shifts her weight and her right hand whips back. Before it can fly at Nathan, I grab her wrist. “Don’t make tonight worse on yourself,” I warn her. She’s a hair shorter than Nathan and decided today that she’ll take it easy on the make-up, but dressed like a Barbie doll. I have every intention of jumping up there and jabbing her right in that perfect plastic surgeon structured nose.
Melissa snatches her wrist from my hand, smiling at me. “What are you, like, four-two? You’re an elf, darling. No comp.”
Although I should ignore her and walk away from this, she hit me first. And it’s only right to stand up for myself.
I stop a slap flying toward my face and jab my fist in her jaw, hurting my hand. She flies back, hitting the ground. I tried not to put that much force behind it. Once on her feet, she charges at me. We go jab for jab before we hit the ground. She falls on top of me, and I flip her over. With my knees planted in the dirt, I kneel over her, and I try my hardest not to crush her face under my punches. I hear a couple of cracks, and before I can draw back again, Nathan pulls me away.
Leaking blood from her mouth and nose, Melissa fumbles to her feet, helped by the blonde who’s wearing the same outfit as she is.
Looking me over, Nathan wipes my face and pulls grass, hay, and whatever else from my hair.
Glen stands behind me, dusting off my back and encouraging my horrid behavior. “You needed to whoop somebody’s ass today, Cey. It was either going to be Nathan’s, Roehl’s, or that giant woman. Don’t feel bad.”
“Nathan!” Melissa shouts. I hate hearing his name come from her. I twist around. “I called Nathan, not you!” Her jaw’s swollen but her bleeding has stopped. Knowing she’ll be okay, I don’t feel as bad.
“I don’t care who you were talking to. The next time you speak to him, I’ll make sure you can’t open your mouth period.”
Nathan nudges my arm. “That’s harsh, babe. You sound like me.”
“It’s the bond. I don’t like her talking to you and being all, he’ll come back to me after he drops you.” Looking away from him back to Melissa, I chaff, “Do you have something to say, Melissa?”
She analyzes my threat as her friends pull her to walk away. Rolling her eyes, she follows suit.
I turn back to Nathan, digging the dirt from under my fingernails. “Dumb broad.”
“Feel better?” he asks, nodding for me to follow him.
“A little. Thanks. You?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
I drag my gaze away from him, listening to the noise of the crowd lessen as we add distance between the party and us.
REFUSING TO RIDE BACK to Nathan’s house with the friends I came with, I convince Nathan we should walk back. It’s quite a walk, but we need the time. Though, strolling hand-in-hand for the past twenty-five minutes in complete silence has been awkward and uncomfortable.
“I love you, Nathan.” My icebreaker.
“I know, Sparks.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“It is. You just don’t want me to feel bad about it.”
“No, that is not it. I could’ve prevented all of this a long time ago.”
“That may be true. But you made the decision you needed to at the time.”
Evenly he drones, “That is not an excuse.”
“Don’t beat yourself up about it.”
“You’re beating yourself up.” He flicks his gaze to me then away. By the peacefulness of his voice, I can’t tell he’s upset, but he feels like it.
“I am. But with good reason.” I study him, searching his face for some kind of answer. A hint of doubt lies heavily in a slight twitch of his right eye. “I don’t want him.”
He sighs and time slowly ticks by before he says, “Sparks, you do.”
“Nathan, I don’t,” I reply too loudly.
“Tracey,” he barks my name in the dominating tone he uses that I hate so much. Daunting words stick behind his dark eyes. He breaks his gaze away from me, stuffing his hand in his pocket.
“What?” I pry. “What are you not telling me?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me, Nathan.” I have the slightest idea of what it could be, but a stinging hurt lies behind his deep brown eyes along with whatever the truth is or whatever he’s holding back. He drops my hand and cold washes over me. I shiver, rubbing my hands over my arms.
Gaining a few steps ahead of me, he huffs, thrusting his hands through his hair. They rub down over his neck and grab at his inner shoulders where he usually holds most of his tension. Turning back around, he lets his arms fall to his sides, but his lips remain sealed.
I’m growing impatient, watching him literally juggle telling me or not. Heavy, deep breaths further his stall. It must be bad. This is the longest he’s ever stalled. What could be worse than him telling me he’s part demon and killed innocent people for the hell of it? Worse than what I’ve seen him do?
“Sparks, don’t,” he states aggressively.
“Well, tell me what’s going on.”
He breaks our gaze and continues walking, turning his back on me. “I don’t want to talk about it, Sparks.”
“Nathan, tell me,” I say as calmly as I can. I can’t figure him out. I get it; he has a lot going on, and I probably make it no better because I have a lot going on. But he needs to stop being so sheltered, so blocked off from me.
He looks over his shoulder with a face void of all expression. “You do want him.”
“Are we arguing about this? You know I don’t,” I defend, angry and high-pitched.
Twisting around, he admits, “You dream about him, Sparks. Often.”
“I don’t,” I snip in distaste. “The only time I even acknowledge him is when he’s in my presence or has just left.” Mostly. . .
“You wouldn’t know.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“I take them away,” he calmly confesses, as if we’re talking about scrambled eggs for breakfast.
He’s bullshitting me. There’s no way I can dream about Roehl. I only remember dreaming of Nathan and me or nothing at all. I think. . .
“I erase them,” he says with the hurt he feels thick in his voice. I watch as he rubs his hand down his face, wiping away the hint of discomfort he held for that split second.
“Why haven’t you told me this?”
“How do I tell my lady she’s dreaming of another man? And that when she dreams of him, she’s happy about it. That I don’t cross her mind, not once. And only to keep her from worrying about it or thinking about it while she is awake because I can’t stand seeing it, I erase it from her mind completely.” The anger in him plays with his words as he tries to r
emain calm. A low rasp’s in it I can tell wants to escalate into a growl and release his animosity.
I could say he’s lying for argument’s sake, but I know he isn’t. Though, I wish he was. Honestly, I can believe every single word. I know Roehl’s frequent pop-up visits in my mind while I’m awake, sitting in class, while I’m in my room, or eating dinner. He makes me daydream about him, instilling within me a desire to touch or see him. It’s all true. I just don’t want to admit it to Nathan.
“So, what, Sparks?” Nathan jerks a shrug, grabbing back my attention. “I told you!” he snaps. “You feel better now?!” His anger’s set deep in his face with his tightly scrunched eyebrows and constant bite of his bottom lip. Gnawing on his lip is how he controls his anger with me, the pain keeps him from spazzing out and forgetting I’m his lifeline.
I’m surprised by his anger, my realization of Roehl’s truth in my life, and exactly what it is this means.
I part my lips to speak, and he raises his hand, saying, “Don’t, Sparks. It’s not your fault. Don’t worry about it.” His anger passes and his voice returns to its modulated tone as if he didn’t just practically blow up a second ago. I don’t like him using that block the world out attitude with me.
Again, he turns his back on me and continues down the path. I follow behind him, biting my tongue. I don’t want to ask any more questions, nor do I want to feed into his impassive mood. I want to say sorry, but that doesn’t seem right. He’s right. How does a couple talk about one of them dreaming of someone else?
We’re nowhere near the house. Rather, I just don’t know my surroundings. With a my-size body width space between us, we don’t touch. We only walk in the night with each other’s confusion and anger bouncing between us like a Ping-Pong.
The half-moon sits lonely in the barren dark blue. It’s the only light we have to illuminate our desolate forest path. The thick trees to our right and left shake as the wind blows a cool breeze that chills my arms. Besides the small sounds of night critters, it’s the only other thing that comforts the silence. Lightning strikes over the mountains in the distance and a quiet rumble of thunder shake my eardrums. The clouds are thick and darker than the night blue sky as they roll in, nearing us. Judging by the speed of the wind, it’ll be a bit before they make it over our heads.
Three Times Torn Page 21
