I sit up in bed and throw the covers back. I’ve been in Sulfur Heights for the last two weeks, staying in Jake’s extra room. I don’t feel comfortable here, though. I feel like a stranger. When I really think about it, I am a stranger. My twin doesn’t even really know who I am. He knows I’ve changed, but he doesn’t know I have been this person all along. It was just harder toward the end to cover it up.
All I’ve done the last two weeks is hide in Jake’s small garage and work on restoring the Challenger. I don’t want anyone around me. I am lost—so unbelievably lost. I have no direction or purpose. I wanted Cami to move on, and she did, but now I feel like the ability to keep myself alive has all been for nothing. I have no reward for the time I spent in prison. I have nothing.
I walk out to the kitchen and pull a glass from the cupboard. I place my hand under the stream of water, waiting for it to get cold, when Jake comes walking in. I glance over at the clock and note its three o’clock in the morning. He will be getting up in a couple of hours to get his day started, and I will be meeting my parole officer for our second appointment.
“You okay, man?” Jake asks.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I gulp down the water, trying to shake the vision of Ronnie’s dead eyes looking back at me and the feeling of emptiness now that Cami is truly gone.
“You didn’t sound okay a few minutes ago. You were screaming in your sleep.” Jake rubs his stomach and scratches himself in his boxer shorts. He pulls the orange juice container from the fridge and starts to gulp down the fluid. “Did you have a nightmare or something?”
I look to my brother, who looks sad. I know Jake wants to know more about me, however talking about my past is impossible. Not because I think my brothers will snitch, though; because they never would. We all have dark secrets within the family, but I don’t think I can discuss the demons I contend with every single night when I close my eyes.
“Yeah, I was thinking about Ronnie.” When the words fall out, I’m surprised as much as Jake is. They just left my mouth and I’m shocked.
“Is he still in Ionia?”
As the flash of Ronnie’s bloody body breaks into my mind, I can feel the same anger I felt from that day. I couldn’t save him. Just like I couldn’t save Presley from Carter’s gun or Cami from his ruthless ways. I simply couldn’t save them.
“No, he… ah…” I clear my throat and attempt to spit the words out. “He got… killed my first year there.”
Jake’s eyes open wide. He’s surprised at my answer. “Wow, I didn’t hear. What happened to him?”
“He was crossing the yard and got caught up in the middle of a gang fight. He was stabbed several times and bled to death.”
“Did you watch this happen?” His question throws me off for a minute, but I want to tell him about Ronnie. I want to tell someone of my internal hell. However, the act itself is difficult. I simply nod my head and that’s enough acknowledgement for Jake.
“I don’t even want to imagine what it was like for you in prison, but you should know, when you got locked up, we all felt the agony. We started to withdraw from the public as much as we could. It didn’t take long for people to start running their mouths about Presley’s murder and your involvement. It was bad for a while, people always wanting to know what happened and shit. Reggie was constantly asked about you. He stopped talking to people, especially at the bar. He stayed in his office as much as he could, and when he did come out, it was too busy for anyone to speak to him. It took a while, but people eventually forgot about what happened to you.”
“Sorry.” I look up into his eyes and truly mean what I’m saying. I never wanted to cause any of them pain. My only intention was to get them out, and all I did was fuck it up. “You know I never wanted that.”
“Well, what did you fuckin’ expect, man? The DEA was destroying our house and making a scene.” While Jake puts the juice back into the fridge, visibly annoyed, all I can do is nod my head. I know I’ve fucked up and my family has paid the price.
I turn my back and then refill my glass. I can sense Jake’s eyes on me, but I ignore him as I tip my head back and chug down the water, the anger ripping its way through me. I can hear him sigh into the air.
“Hopefully, someday, you can tell me what happened to you and where you got all those scars. I know some are from Mom, but not that one.” When I turn around, Jake is pointing to the jagged scar on my arm. The one Carter inflicted and Cami repaired.
I look down at the scar. It’s still raised and pink with crisscross suture marks embedded in it. “Carter,” I say. Jake’s eyes widen again in a silent inquiry for more. “When I found out he was the one who got Presley messed up, I went over there and we got into it. He stabbed me in the process.”
“How did you get involved with him anyway?” Jake walks toward me and leans against the wall. I was once close to him and could share my thoughts, however it’s something the underworld slowly and painstakingly took away from me. I’ve learned to confide in no one, my twin brother included. It has been safer that way; the less they knew, the better.
“It’s a long story. Maybe some other time we can talk about it.”
Jake nods his head and walks from the kitchen.
I hope someday I can talk about the events surrounding my time spent in the underworld and prison. I hope my brothers understand why I started the journey to begin with, and that I sacrificed my life to save theirs. I hope out of anyone who can understand this it will be Drake. I’m not asking for his forgiveness because I don’t deserve it. However, I’m asking for his acceptance.
***
After my nightmare, it is impossible for me to fall back asleep. I go out to the garage and start putting the final touches on my car. The dents were significant, but I have been able to bang them out then smooth them over. Working with a cast on my hand, however, is a challenge in itself. But, like always, I’ve managed to deal with it. Once I get a job, I will be able to paint my car and get it back to its pristine condition.
As I sit in the chair and stare at my car, my mind wanders on my time so far spent back home. I can’t believe it’s been only two weeks since I’ve walked from the halfway house, since I rode a Greyhound bus back to Sulfur Heights, and two weeks since I’ve seen Cami.
The moment at the bus stop broke me inside. I was starting to unthaw seeing her again, but when she looked into my eyes and begged me to let her go, I had no other choice. She’s happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. The smallest part of me held on to hope she could find happiness with me, but I soon realized she needs to be with someone who won’t fuck it all up. Of all the people in this world, Cami is one of two people who truly deserve to be happy.
Then there’s Drake. I stole his happiness away from him because I couldn’t protect Presley before she was killed. I have to live with her death as if I was the one who pulled the trigger. I let my brother down by not protecting her.
Drake knows I’m back in town, and every single moment I wait for him to come after me. He wants to kill me. A week ago, I stood in the hallway when he came to Jake’s house in the middle of the night, ready to destroy me.
Their shouting pulled me from bed and I immediately jumped up. My body is still in prison mode, so any unusual sounds prompt me to be on sudden alert. I pulled a shirt on and walked into the hallway. In the kitchen, Jake was standing by the doorway, preventing Drake from coming farther into the house. All I could see was Jake’s back, but what I heard reminded me of what I’ve done and what I deserve.
“Where is he?” Drake’s voice boomed through the kitchen.
“Get out of here, Drake. You’re fucking drunk.” Jake shouted back with just as much anger.
“I know he’s here! Why are you letting that traitor live with you?” I remember the feeling inside my gut when I heard the word traitor. It was like my lungs had been stabbed with a knife and my breath sucked from my body. Although I’ve called myself many things in the last few years, hearing my younger brother call me a tr
aitor hurt. Like the old saying goes, the truth hurts.
“Where else is he supposed to go? He has nothing.” Jake walked deeper into the kitchen, and I could envision him bellying up to Drake, assuming the Jake Evans fighting stance.
“Good! He deserves nothing. He took everything from me! I watched her die, Jake. I held Presley in my arms and watched her die! For that, Jeremy deserves only agony and pain for the rest of his life! I will give that to him, the pain. I will give it to him a million times over.” Drake released a loud growl in anger. “In fact, he doesn’t even deserve to breathe.”
Once he said that, I knew he was right. I don’t deserve to live my life with happiness. I’m not a good person and probably never will be. There’s always been darkness inside of me; a beast, thriving on pure, unadulterated hate. Someone who lives like that doesn’t warrant happiness.
I turned away from the conversation and started walking down the hallway. When I walked back in my room, Delilah was standing at the foot of my bed. Her eyes were filled with tears she was attempting to hold in.
She walked to me and clasped my hand in hers. “Don’t listen to him. He’s just very upset right now. Her death hasn’t been easy on him.” Delilah continued to squeeze my uninjured hand. “He’s been really mad for a long time. Although, life has been starting to look up for Drake the last year or so.” When I nodded my head in understanding, she began to walk out of the room. She turned at the door and whispered, “You just need to give Drake some time. It will all get better; I just know it.”
Delilah headed to the kitchen and I could hear her soothing sounds. I don’t know what she said to Drake, but he stopped shouting, and then another woman’s voice was in the kitchen. I wondered who that could be. I remember lying on my bed and falling asleep with the feelings Drake wanted me to have. Agony and pain were gutting me.
I shake my head from my thoughts and try to get Drake out of my mind. I need to get out of here for a while.
I fall into the driver’s seat and start my car. The motor rumbles as I back from the garage and drive. There’s only one place I want to go right now and it’s been many years since I’ve been up there—Old Miller’s Road. Therefore, I turn on the highway and point the car in the direction of my old racing spot.
The air blows through my short, brown hair as I make my way around the winding roads and find the spot where I spent my youth. When I was a kid, I had a front row seat when my dad would take Jake and me on his racing excursions. Then, when Reggie began to pick up on the races after he quit fighting, we’d get to see firsthand how he drove. Later, my turn came. The exhilarating feeling of reaching ninety plus miles per hour as I rip down the straightaway can only be compared to a junkie’s fix. It was and will always be addicting.
You can tell races still happen on a regular basis. The land surrounding the yard has fresh tire tracks, and the remnants of a drunken night still remains when I look to the littered beer glasses.
I pull the Challenger up to the starting point and switch on the song—Thin Lizzy’s “The Boys Are Back in Town.” It was my father’s racing song; he’d blast it after he pushed the eight-track tape into the player. The song has turned into an anthem to my love of racing. It’s the song I would use as my adrenaline fuel right before I flew down the road.
After Jake ruined my dad’s eight-track player, I decided to upgrade to this decade and installed a decent sound system. It’s nothing too fancy, but I’ve combined the old machine I love with the technology of the twenty-first century.
When the guitar riffs sound through the speakers, I close my eyes and remember. I put myself back in the place when I was managing my anger. I put myself in a time when Presley was happy and before she was addicted to drugs, before Darcie met Grady and was happy to kick anyone’s ass, and before I was swallowed by the underworld.
I think about my twin brother and how much of a stupid douche he was, yet I loved every single thing about him. I loved the way he’d insult someone to the point of confusion then kick the shit out of them because they were too stupid to get it. I think back when Jake and I were kids, and we’d sneak out of our house so we could go swimming at our hidden spot. The joy we’d get, knowing it was only us who knew about it.
I think about Drake and how he was always smiling. Nothing could ever get him down. Even when we were getting our asses beat by my mother, Drake always managed to smile. He was happy all the time. While Presley was in rehab, Drake managed to be happy for his daughter. I remember working on his Chevelle and seeing his face when Reggie and I gave it to him. Then the hours we’d spend fixing it up… We didn’t talk much, but the moment was special to us anyway.
I think about the many times Reggie and I would have our heads under the hoods of our cars. We would fix, tweak, and replace car parts then have a discussion about it, only to do it all over again the next day. I remember the pride Reggie would exude when I understood what he was doing and could do it myself. The feel of his hand clasping my shoulder proved how proud he was of me. He’d nod in approval to me as we’d close up for the day.
I remember him pulling me aside when I was overcome with my drinking problem. He didn’t have to say much, his face told it all. Reggie told me he loved me and refused to lose his brother to the bottle. Everyone thinks we had this knockdown, drag out battle, but it was the opposite. Reggie only sat and talked to me like a man. He told me what I was doing to him and the rest of the family, and then I stopped. It wasn’t worth it.
As the music rips through my memories, I caress the steering wheel fondly. She was my main girl from the day I got her until Cami Ryker happened. I rev the motor and picture Cami’s brown eyes and magnetic smile.
Her perfectly straight teeth would shine from behind her full, luscious lips. I’m reminded of the nights we’d spend hanging out in her room as her mother would be asleep down the hall. Cami would smoke a blunt and giggle uncontrollably at anything. I couldn’t help laughing at her antics. She was accepting of my double life, knowing what I did for her father day in and day out. She didn’t care, and if she did, she never mentioned it bothered her. She was my only solace for the years I spent engaged in the underworld and locked behind steel bars. Cami was my breath of fresh air when the jobs her father sent me on were intense. She was just… perfect.
I open my eyes and replay the song. My tunnel vision turns on and I wait until the chorus hits. The words barely make it out of the speakers before I slam my foot on the gas and shoot down the road like a rocket. The music blasts in the background as I fly down the straight away and resurrect Jeremy Evans.
I can feel the old me starting to come back to life. The darkness of the night flashes over the hood of the car as I come up to the turn. If I keep going, I will slam right into a tree. Do I want to die, or do I want to make the turn and then turn my life around as well? This is my path. Either I change my life for good, shed my past demons by talking to my brothers and rekindling something positive between us, or I end it all.
I understand it now. If I don’t release some of my past and rid myself of the beast once and for all, I will be dead. I will have nothing to live for. I have to kill the rage inside of me.
The turn is there, and my decision needs to be now. Either I slam into the tree and die, or I make the turn and start accepting what I’ve done was wrong. My impending future is right there, within a few feet. I look to the tree one more time and see the faces of all I love; my brothers, Darcie, Presley, Mia, Delilah, and Cami. And it’s then I want to move forward with my life. I actually want to have a life, and I want it to start right now.
As I hit the brakes, I jerk the steering wheel hard and make the Challenger swing out to the left. The ass end of my car pulls out to the side while I hold tight to the wheel, completing the turn. My cast makes it hard to control the car, but I manage it. Then I press the gas and rocket myself forward. As I look in the review mirror, I see faint pieces of the tree through the flying dirt. I watch as my past stays behind me and then focus on
my future which lies outside my windshield.
By the time I make it to the end of the road, a cloud of dust surrounds me while the last of Thin Lizzy’s words ring through the car. I’m breathing deep. The adrenaline is raging in my veins, causing me to shake. I get a glimpse of my face in the mirror and can see the smile covering my face. It’s not my typical half-smile, half-smirk; it’s a full on, teeth showing smile.
What the hell? I’m smiling. I laugh at myself and remember how good it feels to be happy enough to truly smile.
I’m riding in Zoe’s car after we’ve dropped off our kids at daycare. Out of the kindness of her heart, she’s taken me to my job for the last two weeks. I’m grateful for it, but my face is showing everything except gratitude. My mind is in a constant state of confusion, and I’m unable to concentrate on anything since seeing Jeremy. I feel like my life has been turned upside down because all I can see, hear, feel is him.
I remember the heartbreaking look on his face when I got on the bus and rode away from him. I know where he is staying, but I can’t find it within myself to go speak to him. My life is completely different now that I have Hunter. I don’t know what Jeremy’s intentions will be now that he is out of prison. However, it is apparent to me he is still contending with his rage issues. Why else would he have a broken hand and a cut on his arm? He’s angry, and I don’t need that near my son. Hunter is my priority.
Then there are my son’s feelings toward his father. How am I supposed to tell Hunter about his dad? I mean, we’ve talked about his daddy being away, and he does have a picture of Jeremy, but that’s about it. I don’t elaborate on Jeremy’s and my relationship, but Hunter does deserve a father. Can Jeremy be the father that Hunter deserves? Will he take him under his wing and teach him about being a man? Or will he keep his foot firmly planted in the underworld, refusing to move past his time spent there?
I begin to twist my dark, brown hair around my finger. The tension is turning the tip of my finger purple, but I don’t feel the numbness.
Redeemed Love Page 22
