by Abbi Glines
Scarlet sighed and rested her head on the car seat. “Why are you here?” she asked yet again.
“Because I fucking miss you. Not just the sex. I miss your smile. Your laugh. I miss being near you. I miss you, Scar.”
She was silent a moment, then she eased over to sit close beside me. “Oh,” was her whispered response. Then her head rested on my shoulder.
We rode in silence a few moments before I said. “Country cooking smells good on you.”
Her laughter was warm and bright. It chased away my darkness.
Scarlet
I MISSED HIM too. All the time.
That’s why I was sitting here. In his truck. Making a potentially terrible decision. But he’d shown up, after work, and although I’d been laughing at Diesel’s impression of Ethel, seeing him made everything else fade away.
He felt warm, smelled of the outdoors and spice, and made my heart fluttery. This was where I wanted to be. Close to him. My moods were all over the place lately. Because of him. He owned my heart and I couldn’t get back.
“I found your work. Don’t know where you live. You’ll have to tell me,” he said as his hand rested on my thigh squeezing it.
“Turn left at the next red light, take a right at the second stop sign and it’s in the trailer park to your immediate right.”
His lips touched my head as I rested against his shoulder. He didn’t say anything more. With his hand, he pulled my leg over his right thigh which moved me closer to him. His grip on my thigh eased up higher and my breathing hitched. He was close and my body was hyperaware of his proximity.
I wasn’t sure my heart could take it if this was a booty call. When we were together sexually it meant more to me than was healthy. I was connecting to him. Allowing him inside more than my open legs but also my heart, my soul. Making it even more difficult to see him go. I couldn’t keep him here. He had a life back where I would never live again. I’d have to watch him drive away. It was coming.
“Shame they don’t have you wear skirts at that place,” he said in a deep husky voice. I shivered at the idea. I felt vulnerable but the excitement was there. Always with him. When he came to the first stop sign after turning at the red light, he moved his hand higher and it was brushing against the fabric of my shorts. I wanted to press myself against it but I didn’t. I inhaled deeply and tried to get control of myself.
“You keep making those noises and shivering and I’ll have those shorts off you by the next stop sign,” he warned.
“We’re almost there. And you’re the one teasing me,” I replied my voice was breathless.
“Jesus, Scar. I’m gonna end up fucking you in the truck before we can get inside,” he swore.
Unable to stop it, I trembled again. The thought of Bray being inside me caused me to react even when I didn’t want to.
He didn’t stop at the next sign but turned right, then immediately sped up to turn right again into the trailer park I lived in. He tensed and slowed down. “Please tell me this isn’t where you’re fucking living,” he said slowly as he came to a stop inside the dilapidated fence.
“Third one on the left.” I pointed already preparing myself for him to be upset. I should have thought about this. I’d just gotten used to the place and the idea of being with Bray made me forget everything else. Like his reaction to my living space here.
“Motherfucker,” he muttered under his breath.
“It’s really not bad,” I assured him. It was a haven. My haven.
“It’s a shithole. Can’t be safe for you here. Hell, Scar, at any moment one of these trailers could blow from a meth lab gone wrong.”
I’d be lying if I hadn’t wondered about the last trailer on the right. They had an abnormal amount of company and I had met the girl who lived there. Her teeth . . . they weren’t exactly healthy. She had said she lived there with her boyfriend.
“I think I’m far enough away from the one potential meth trailer in here,” I replied instead of arguing.
He cursed again, then parked his truck outside my trailer. “This isn’t even a real fucking trailer. It’s a camper.” He was angry.
“Bray,” I said, grabbing his hand that rested on my thigh. “I can afford this place. It’s mine. No one has bothered me here and not once have I felt unsafe.” Unlike every day of my previous life at the house I’d grown up in.
He looked down at me. “Has he been here?” His eyes were bright with jealousy. It was also in his tone.
“If you mean Diesel, no. We are friends. New friends. We didn’t get along at first. But no one other than me has been here.” He didn’t have to be jealous. Not of me. I wasn’t looking for a man. I was looking for solitude. Safety. Security.
“I don’t like him,” Bray said.
That made me laugh. “I imagine you don’t. And I don’t like the numerous girls you sleep with. The ones who show up at weddings they’re not invited to so they can see you.” I used to not say these things to him. I’d take it and I’d fight back by trying to hurt him equally. I was different now.
His hand squeezed my thigh again, then moved up and slapped my vagina.
“OUCH!” I cried out only because that area was already sensitive from being aware he was close.
“That was a fuck up. I hadn’t seen you in seven months. She’d been a drunken hook up I didn’t expect to come after me. But you didn’t give me time to explain.”
He shoved me back in the seat and covered me with his body. “God, Scarlet, what do I have to do to get it through your head all I want is you. The only pussy I want to fuck is yours. I can’t even see their faces. Not one of them. You were all I could see.” His mouth covered mine then, and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders as he sank between my open legs. Even with our clothes on, feeling him against me fully was amazing.
Not once had he claimed to love me.
He never even came close to those three words.
But what he had said was a lot. It was close to admitting it. Could he not say those words? How could I live without him if he ever did? How could I be with him and not tell him everything . . . the things I swore I’d never speak of. If he knew he’d see me differently. That I couldn’t stand.
Brent had loved me but I never wanted his love. He hadn’t been Bray. I hadn’t been worried about Brent’s emotions because in my head I knew my not loving him was saving him from a darkness he didn’t want. My head would never be right. It would always carry nightmares. The monsters that warped me.
Bray had been stronger. Harder. Held his own darkness. It wasn’t as tangled and deep as mine. He also wasn’t full of joy and wonder like Brent had been. He was the one that saw more.
Bray tasted me like he was starving. The mix of whiskey and mint gum was on his breath and I couldn’t think of a more perfect taste in this world. His mouth left mine and he quickly made his way down my neck to begin taking off my shirt.
“Take me inside,” I said to him gasping for air.
He nodded. “Probably a good idea with the neighbors you have.”
I laughed softly as he sat up pulling me with him. Jerking his door open, he climbed down with his hold still on my hand tugging me out behind him. With his hand tightly clasped over mine, he dragged me to the only door of the trailer. I quickly dug my key out of my purse. My hands were shaking as I fumbled with the lock. Bray took it from me and got it open, then shoved me inside with him plastered against my back.
The door slammed behind him and the lock clicked in place. His eyes were eating me up as he took three long strides then pressed me back against the small table that converted into a bed if I needed an extra one. I expected him to jerk my shirt off. Or my shorts. Or say something about needing to fuck me.
Instead, he held my face in his hands. His eyes held my gaze. “You are the only special thing in my life.”
I was the most damaged thing in his life. He just didn’t realize it.
Bray
THIS PLACE WAS a dump. Clean as a damn whis
tle . . . but a dump. I stared out the window at the main part of the trailer and studied my surroundings in the early morning sun. Scarlet was in the tiny closet she called the bathroom taking a shower. We’d been up most of the night. There wasn’t a square inch of this place I hadn’t fucked her. Not that it was hard. This place was tiny.
Blankets and plastic bags covered some windows in the trailer beside her. Cars were up on bricks, clothes hung on laundry lines, there was even one neighbor who made art with beer cans. They decorated his small porch he’d built.
Shaking my head, I stepped back from the window. I couldn’t look at that shit and be in a good mood when she walked out of that bathroom. It frustrated the hell out of me. Why didn’t she come home?
The door opened to the bathroom and I focused on Scarlet as she exited instead. She stood with a towel wrapped around her. A small unsure smile touched her lips. I had been prepared to convince her not to kick me out this morning. She hadn’t tried though. When she woke up and rolled over on her back to look up at me, it wasn’t regret I saw.
“I have some bread and jelly. The milk is out of date. I normally eat at work,” she said apologetically.
“I think I’d like to eat at your work too. If that’s okay with you.” I wanted to see her work. I also wanted to see Diesel and for him to see me. As much as she claimed they were simply work friends, I could tell by his body language last night that he thought differently.
She chewed her bottom lip nervously. “Okay, but . . . okay.” She changed her mind about whatever it was she wanted to say.
Unable to keep my hands off her I walked over to pull her against me. “I’m not leaving here until you do.” I was trying like hell not to demand she return home. I wanted her to decide on her own.
“What about your job?” she asked.
“I may lose it. But I’m not leaving you here,” I stopped myself before I mentioned the dangerous looking neighbors she had.
A frown creased her brow. “You can’t lose your job.”
“I reckon I can get another one,” I didn’t want to lose my job. I enjoyed it. And there was Satan I didn’t want to leave. But Scarlet was more important than the Mustang.
“I can’t come back,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.
The reason she left was no longer an issue. “Why?” I asked.
She closed her eyes and sighed deeply. I thought she was about to tell me when she stared over my shoulder. Her expression detached. As if she’d checked out and was somewhere else. I’d never seen her do that before. It bothered me. No, it fucking concerned me.
“Scarlet.” She blinked several times after hearing her name, then her gaze shifted back to me.
“I live here. This is my home now.”
This couldn’t be more appealing than the large house she’d lived in with her parents. Unless they’d finally divorced or her mother had moved out. “Did your parents move?” I asked.
She shook her head no. Emotion filled her eyes. Tears she seemed determined not to shed. “No. But I’m not going back there.”
I knew her mother was a crazy whore. Most of the town knew it. Momma had mentioned her mother before and referred to her as sorry. Which was the same as calling her a whore. Sorry was a deep insult coming from Momma.
But her dad was successful. He was known for overlooking his wife’s infidelity. When Scarlet had graduated high school, he hadn’t been there. Neither of them had. Dixie had been upset about it. But Scarlet hadn’t seemed to care.
“Why?” I asked when she didn’t say more.
She inhaled deeply. “This is my new life. Where I want to be. That life, my parents, that . . . I don’t want to go back there. Ever.”
What the fuck? “Did something happen with your mom?” The woman was insane.
She shook her head.
“What about your dad?” Had he shown up and upset her?
She shook her head again. I waited, hoping she’d say more. I had always known she wasn’t close to her parents. That her relationship with them was tense. If she could stay away from home she did. No one seemed to care. The nights she’d slept with me in my truck so we could park and fuck all night, not once had they called looking for her. Worried that she wasn’t there. It had seemed odd.
“He’s not my real father,” she blurted out like she was having to force herself to admit it. “I was the result of an affair, my mother had with his younger brother. He’s my uncle. My real father died in a hunting accident when my mother was still pregnant with me.” Her eyes were wide, surprised. As if she couldn’t believe she’d just told me this.
Holy shit. I didn’t know what to say to that. I wanted to ask her if she was sure. If this wasn’t a bunch of bullshit that her mother had told her. But the way her face was fighting against the emotion trying to break free I didn’t have the heart to keep drilling her with questions.
“How long have you known?” I asked, wondering how long she’d held onto this.
“Since I was nine.”
Motherfucker. “Jesus, Scarlet. Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
She turned her head from me. Her mouth in a tight line. She appeared angry about something. Was she mad I was asking questions? “We didn’t talk much Bray. We fucked.” The hard tone her voice had taken caused me to study her closer.
“I’m going to be late for work,” she said, moving back from me. She tugged at her towel to keep it from falling. As if I didn’t know every inch of her body naked.
“Get ready then, but Scarlet this isn’t over. We have more to talk about.”
She didn’t say anything more. The door closed firmly behind her. Too firmly.
I stood there staring at the door she had walked through and started making plans. I wasn’t going to let her stay here. She wasn’t happy here. She was a survivor and I hadn’t realized it until now.
Once I had hated myself for wanting her. For fucking craving her. Because I thought she was into playing games. I grouped her with the others. Assumed she was silly and wild. It was nothing like I thought.
When she stepped back through the door, I knew what I was going to do. I would plan. Prepare. But I knew.
Scarlet glanced at her phone. “We have ten minutes to get there.”
“Then you better get your ass in the truck,” I replied in a lighter tone, hoping to ease the tension suddenly thick around us.
She gave a nod, then did just that. All the while not looking at me.
Scarlet
GOD! WHAT HAD I been thinking? Saying something that private, that close to the truth, aloud. No one needed to know those things. It would lead to more questions. Demanding answers I would never give. He was too close. Having him with me, was . . . amazing. It made my safe little trailer perfect. It didn’t smell of mildew with Bray inside of it. The scent of mint and leather now filled it. Bray made things brighter.
Allowing myself to want this led me right back down a path with no hope.
“You going to be silent the entire ten-minute drive to the diner?” he asked, breaking the silence.
I couldn’t look at him. I knew he wanted me to. I just couldn’t. I’d opened up. Said too much.
“Scar, what’s wrong?”
Sighing, I continued to look out the passenger side window. “Nothing. I am just trying to figure things out in my head.”
“What things?”
“Explaining to you that I want the life I have here. I’m happy. Content. I wasn’t there.” Maybe happy was going overboard. But secure. Free of the . . . the dirty, ugly world I’d lived in. The secrets, the mask I wore daily to cover my reality. That was behind me. No amount of counseling that doctors put me in had felt this free. Besides, if I’d told a psychiatrist my real issues I’d have been thrown in the system real damn fast. Away from Dixie. And I needed Dixie then. She was my means of survival.
“You were unhappy back home?” he asked for clarification.
I nodded but said no more. I was done with this topic. He sensed
it and the rest of the trip we didn’t speak. When he parked in front of the diner, I grabbed the handle to bolt, expecting him to grab my arm and ask me more. To say something. But it wasn’t until I was halfway to the back door that it dawned on me he wasn’t chasing me. He wasn’t calling my name.
He was driving away.
Stopping, I turned to look as his truck was pulling out onto the main road. Not leading to my trailer. He was headed back North. Back to his home. My shoulders slumped. My throat clogged. It was what I knew had to happen but it’d been so damn easy.
“You coming in to help, or standing out here contemplating the day?” Diesel asked.
I jerked my head around to see him tossing a bag of garbage into the dumpster.
“Shut up,” I snapped. Back to being angry with him.
“And she’s back. Crabby just like I like it,” he said with sarcasm.
I stalked past him and into the kitchen.
“He’s not worth it. If he didn’t stay and beg you then he should drive off.”
I wanted to yell at him some more. He thought this was simple. That I was some shallow girl wanting attention from a bad boy. That it was about love and happily ever after. The idea made me furious. I hated him judging me by others. Because I wish I could be like others. I wish I didn’t have this fucked up head and insecurities and fears. I wish I hadn’t seen the monsters and ugliness at a young age.
And I wish my mother had stopped him. The first one. The ones after that. I wish she’d been the loving mother that protected her child. Or just a human with compassion. That would have helped me too.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said in a low but firm voice as I glared at him.
“Then enlighten me,” he shot back.
I began to laugh. Not the kind that came from amusement. But the kind that came from demented cruel pain. He’d been in prison for a few months. I’d live in prison for years. My safe childhood had been a world of fear, dirty, and terror when another man came into my room and called me “princess.” A man my mother allowed in there.
