Every Little Thing: MC Romance (Bayou Devils MC Book 7)
Page 14
“Quick, block him on your phone,” Eden says, jabbing her pointer finger into the table. “Right now. I’m not letting that clown ruin all my hard work.”
I scoff as I dig my phone out of my bag. “Yes,, ma’am. And what the hell do you mean all your hard work?”
“Listen, I did not risk life, limb, and best friend just so this douchebag can come swinging his dick around and mess it all up. I am determined to be photographing your wedding with Wyatt someday.”
Scoffing, I shake my head as I block James on my phone. “We’re already married, Edie. Even if we get back together, there won’t be a wedding.”
“Well, then a vow renewal or whatever,” she says, waving her hand through the air to dismiss my comment. “You mark my words. I will document your happily ever after.”
“You need a hobby.”
She grins at me. “I have one and you’re looking at it.”
“Have you ever thought about crochet or something?” I ask, leaning back and crossing my arms over my chest. She shakes her head as she grabs her drink and takes a sip.
“No. Maybe I’ll look into it when this mission is finished.”
I roll my eyes at her but the waitress returns to our table to drop off our dinners before I can say anything else and I decide to let it go. Hopefully Eden has developed some boundaries since her last little meddling episode but I’m not holding my breath.
Chapter Fifteen
Piper
An early autumn wind ruffles my hair as I smile and wave at Eden and Lillian parked on the curb, watching me carefully. Eden arches a brow and I roll my eyes as I turn to my front door. She always has this thing where she has to see me, at least, open the front door before she feels comfortable leaving me and while it’s sweet, sometimes I would prefer not to have an audience while I fumble with my keys. The rest of the dinner passed quickly with a lot of sangrias for me and plenty of laughs between the three of us and it was nice to forget about my problems for a while. Or forget about them as much as I can. Anytime there was a lull in the conversation or I was bored with the current topic, my mind would wander back to my new issues with Wyatt. Although, tonight I had the added bonus of painful memories from the past waiting in the wings to ambush me as soon as I let my guard down. Shaking my head, I push those thoughts from my mind as I finally find the right key and shove it into the lock.
Once I get the door open, I turn back to them and wave again. Eden flashes me a satisfied smile as they return the gesture and she pulls away from the curb. I wouldn’t say I’m super drunk right now but I’m definitely in no shape to drive myself home either. I was just going to take a cab but Eden insisted that she was giving me a ride home while Lillian followed behind us in my car so I would be able to get myself to work in the morning. Glancing over at my car in the driveway, I smile. You know… when she’s not being too nosy for her own damn good, I’m really glad I have Eden in my life. And Lillian, too. Honestly, I don’t know where I would be without the two of them. They know when I just need some space and when I need them to push me and as angry as I was with Eden for going behind my back and talking to Wyatt, I’m not entirely convinced that it was a mistake.
Stumbling through the front door, I toss my keys onto the table next to me and shut the door before making sure it’s locked three times as the damn memories threaten to bombard me again. Shaking my head, I check the lock one last time and promise myself that I’m not going to let them beat me today.
As I walk into the living room, I kick off my heels and breathe a sigh of relief. My thoughts turn to Wyatt as I peel my jacket off and toss it on the floor before heading for the stairs. I didn’t want to admit it to her or even myself but Eden was right when she said everything I’ve been dreaming of for the past ten years is staring me in the face and I just have to be brave enough to reach out and grab it. I just wish it was that easy. God, I don’t know how to tell Wyatt the truth… It’s not a time in my life I’m particularly proud of and I can’t imagine how painful it will be to see him react with disgust to the news. Not that he will, for sure, but… he might. And that kills me.
When I reach the bottom of the stairs, I pull my t-shirt over my head and toss it onto the floor before looking back. I’m usually pretty neat when it comes to my home and my things but I have just enough alcohol flowing through my system that all I want is to put on my oldest, comfiest t-shirt and fall into my bed. Staring at the mess, I release a breath and shrug.
Whatever.
I’ll deal with it in the morning.
Turning back to the stairs, I reach for the button of my jeans and grab my phone out of the back pocket before I start shoving them down my legs and by the time I get to the top, I’m kicking them off behind me. The last thing off is my bra and I smile as I step into my bedroom and grab the old Marines t-shirt I stole from Wyatt off of the bed and slip it over my head. The moon shines through the large window, casting a blue glow on the entire room as I set my phone on the bedside table and fall back into the mattress, a content sigh slipping through my lips.
Oh, this is exactly what I needed.
I close my eyes but as soon as I do, those damn memories that have been stalking me all night are right there in the front of my mind and my heart starts to beat a little faster. I reach up and trace the scar along my neck. Tears well up in my eyes as the memory pushes forward, demanding my attention and I know it’s going to be a rough night.
No.
No.
No.
Shaking my head, I open my eyes and stare up at the ceiling fan above me but it doesn’t matter if my eyes are closed or not, the pain of my past will not be ignored tonight. Closing my eyes again, I see my childhood home, just the way it always was before a dark cloud drowned out the light and a tear streaks down the side of my face and I suck in a stuttered breath. Every moment of that night is seared into my memory, so much so that it’s become part of my identity, a piece of my very DNA and it seems I have no choice but to relive it now. My eyes snap open and I stop fighting, letting the memory and the pain that always accompanies it, wash over me.
Crash!
My eyes pop open and I squint into the darkness, confusion filling me as I try to place the sound. Someone screams from downstairs and it takes me a second to realize it’s my mother. My heart kicks in my chest and my tummy twists as I shove the covers off my legs and hug my teddy bear to my chest.
“Mama?” I call out as I slip from the bed, my legs shaking like crazy. The silence is dominating and tears fill my eyes as I tiptoe across my room and pull the door open just enough to peek out into the hallway. “Mama?”
Something doesn’t feel right…
Sucking in a breath, I remember Daddy telling me that sometimes it’s important to be brave and I open the door further, clutching my bear as I step out into the hallway and glance toward the faint glow coming from downstairs.
“It’s probably nothing,” I tell myself as I walk to the top of the stairs, careful not to step on the board that creaks as my heart beats faster, crashing into my rib cage. As I start down the stairs, I want to call out for my mom again but something tells me not to and I decide to listen to that little voice in my head.
“Please!” Mama screams and I freeze halfway down the steps, each breath punching out of me. “Don’t do this! Take whatever you want.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I bury my face in my teddy bear’s tummy and wait. My imagination takes over, dreaming up all kinds of monsters that could be lurking downstairs. Mama screams again but it sounds different this time and when she stops, the house is quiet again. Too quiet. Opening my eyes, I take a deep breath, trying so hard to be brave as I start down the stairs again. When I reach the bottom, I turn toward the living room and a gasp catches in my throat. The giant figure standing next to chunks of wood that I think used to be the coffee table turns and his gaze lands on me. I can hear my heart in my ears and it’s hard to breathe as I stare up at him, my body going cold as his blue eyes roam over my bod
y.
Oh, God.
I need to run.
I want to run but my legs won’t move.
They’re stuck to the floor.
Moonlight glints off the piece of metal and my eyes widen at the sight of the bloody knife in his hand. A scream bubbles up but gets stuck in my throat as my entire body shakes and little black spots dot my vision. He takes a step toward me and before my mind even has a chance to catch up, I spin and take off running as a scream trails off behind me.
“HELP!”
I run into my daddy’s study and turn toward the dining room but I don’t have time to stop because I can hear his loud, clumping steps as he chases after me.
“Mama! Daddy! Help!” I scream, tears streaking down my face and my chest feeling tight like my heart is about to burst. His footsteps are louder on the hardwood floor of the dining room and I whimper and beg my legs to go faster as I turn toward the kitchen and freeze. Mama is lying on the floor next to Daddy and her eyes are wide open, staring at me, but she can’t see me. A large pool of blood surrounds them and I shake my head as more tears fall and I run to them, dropping to my knees.
I don’t even care that I’m getting blood all over me.
I have to help them.
Grabbing Mama by the shoulders, I give her a little shake but nothing happens and a sob bubbles out of my chest as I shake her again.
“Mama,” I whisper through my tears, shaking my head. When I was six, my grandpa died and at his funeral, they brought him into the church in a big wooden box so everyone could see him but all I could think was that he didn’t look right. Mama looks the same now and even if I don’t want to admit it, I know, deep down in my heart, that she’s gone. Tears pour down my face in torrents as I shake my head again. “Mama.”
“Gotcha.”
I scream as the man grabs my arm and rips me away from my parents. With the blood, it’s hard for him to keep his grip on me and I fight back as hard as I can, hitting and kicking at him with all my strength. I land a kick between his legs and he grunts as his grip on me falters, allowing me to slip my arm free. As I turn to run again, he slices the knife through the air. A burning sensation scrapes down the side of my neck but I don’t stop to see what it is as I start running again. The pain follows and I press my hand to my neck, hissing as it stings and blood trickles through my fingers. Pulling my hand away, I stare down at my palm and shudder. My blood mixes with my parents’ and a sense of dread washes over me.
I’m going to die tonight.
“Come here, you little bitch,” the man growls from the kitchen and it’s the kick in the butt that I need. My gaze flies from the stairs to the front door to the living room.
Where do I go?
When the sound of his boots smacking against the kitchen tile fills the house, I bolt toward the front door with my hand pressed to my neck. I need to keep running but it’s getting so hard to make my feet work and all I want to do is close my eyes and go back to sleep. Shaking my head, I push myself forward and unlock the front door before ripping it open as red and blue lights fill the night.
Tears pour down my face and I suck in a stuttered breath before a sob overtakes me. I remember crashing into the police officer that was walking up my sidewalk that night and begging him to please help me. I run my fingers over the scar on my neck again. The doctors said that I was incredibly lucky since the attacker just barely nicked my artery and if the knife had gone any deeper, I would have joined my parents in the ground. I don’t feel lucky though. That man and that horrid night have haunted my life ever since. I was only nine years old but as soon as I was woken up, I could tell there was something different, that something was very, very wrong. The air was thicker, more ominous, and it almost felt like the very thing that I needed to sustain my life was slowly choking me to death and still to this day, I can feel that dread pushing down on me when I think about the events of that night.
I can still hear the sound of my mother’s gurgled scream as the man plunged the knife into her chest and the eerie silence that followed. They are both still so loud in my mind and my stomach rolls. I spent two weeks in the hospital, first for the cut on my neck and then for my mental health before I was moved to a group home to wait for any family to step forward to claim me. It took a year for them to locate and convince my great Aunt Myra to take me in. I had only met her once before and she wasn’t a huge fan of kids so I suppose that I should just be grateful she took me in at all.
Closing my eyes, the image of my parents lying on that kitchen floor floods my mind and I suck in a stuttered breath as I remember sinking to my knees and the slippery feeling of their blood against my skin as I grabbed them and tried to wake them up. The rich scent of iron fills my nose and I open my eyes again, shaking my head to clear the memory. The man, who I later learned was named Clinton Wood, was arrested that night and charged with two counts of murder in the first degree, one count of attempted murder, and one count of breaking and entering. At his trial, his lawyer painted a story of a good man who got addicted to drugs and lost his way but I’ll never forget the evil in his blue eyes as he stared down at me with that bloody knife in his hand. Despite my fragile state, I gave a compelling testimony about what happened that night and although I couldn’t meet his gaze, it felt good to know that I had a part in putting him away for the rest of his life. He was convicted and sentenced to three life sentences so I never have to worry about him getting released and being out in the world but it doesn’t really help when he’s free to run rampant through my mind and torment me.
The tears fall, unchecked, down my cheeks and into the pillow as the memory replays in my head again and my chest aches. It’s been so long that I can’t even remember what my parents’ voices sound like and if I didn’t have photos of them everywhere, their faces would be fuzzy in my mind. I never got to go prom dress shopping with my mama or have my daddy walk me down the aisle when I married Wyatt. No one stood up and cheered for me at my high school graduation and when my life fell apart, I didn’t have anyone to help me pick up the pieces. The ache of missing them and the void they left behind in my life never really goes away. It’s just one more thing that became part of who I am. I fell apart that night and I didn’t have the love of my family to put me back together. All I had was pain and fear and that is what I became.
And then I met Wyatt.
My phone rattles across the bedside table with an incoming call and I scoop it up, not even bothering to check the caller ID as I frantically swipe tears off my face.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Pip.”
I release a breath as my body melts back into the mattress. “Wyatt.”
“You okay?” he asks, genuine concern lacing his voice and I whisper a curse as I sit up and clear my throat while I try to dry my tears.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I clear my throat again. “What do you want?”
He chuckles. “Back to business as usual, I see.”
“What do you want, Wyatt?” I repeat, rolling my eyes and he sighs. I can picture him running his hand through his hair and I wish I could do the same. Back before I left, Wyatt always had to keep his hair short because of the Marines but I love how it looks now, long enough to fall into his eyes and a little unkempt. It just makes me want to run my fingers through it again and again.
“Can I come in?”
I blink and turn toward the window before climbing out of bed. “You’re here?”
“Yeah,” he says as I reach the window and look down. He waves up at me and I shake my head. Any other night, I would try to resist but I just don’t have the energy for it after my little trip down memory lane. Besides, the thought of Wyatt wrapping his arms around me and kissing the top of my head like he used to anytime I woke up from a nightmare sounds way too good to pass up.
“Okay… there’s a key taped to the underside of the mailbox.”
He frowns as he glances at the little black box next to the front door. “That’s not safe, Pip.”
“You just told me where the damn key is, baby,” he says, looking up and meeting my eyes through the window as he fights back a grin that makes a shiver run down my spine. Good Lord, I always thought Wyatt was the cutest boy I’d ever met but now… he is all man and he can reduce me to a puddle with just a simple look. “Do you really think you could stop me?”
I roll my eyes. “Just get up here.”
“Yes, ma’am.” His grin makes my heart melt and I blink, fighting back tears again. God, I missed that man so much these past ten years and it’s a wonder how I ever survived. Now that he’s back in my life, or sort of back, I don’t know how I ever went one day without him. But the bigger problem is, I don’t know how to keep resisting him. I watch him as he walks up to the front door and peels the key from under the mailbox before I turn back to the bed and hang up, tossing my phone on the bedside table. As I climb on the mattress and pull the blankets around me, I hear the front door open and my heart kicks in my chest.
I’m so stupid.
I’ve known him for twenty damn years and I still get butterflies in my belly at the thought of seeing him. Just the sound of his name is enough to have me fighting back a grin and when he steps in close to me, my heart beats a little bit faster. Shaking my head, I close my eyes. I seriously need to get ahold of myself if I’m going to face him. I still don’t know which way I’m going to go when he asks the inevitable question - keep my secrets or tell him everything - but either way, I’ll need all the strength I can muster. When I open them again, he’s standing in the doorway, his brow arched as he grins down at me.
“Nice shirt.”
I glance down and nod as I meet his gaze again. “Yeah. It is.”
“I like the little trail you left for me,” he says and I scowl.
“Huh?”
He motions over his shoulder. “The clothes leading up to your bedroom.”
“Oh. That.”
“You okay?” he asks again, tilting his head slightly as he studies me. The genuine concern filling his eyes kills me. If I tell him the truth… he may never look at me like that again. I nod as my lip trembles.