by E. L. Todd
“Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Yeah,” he said as he looked around the house. “Wow. This place is small.”
“I said that many times,” she said.
“But the beach is just a few feet away,” her mother said.
It was obvious they only came to get a cheap vacation. They didn’t care about seeing her or spending the holiday with her. Coen was right. She should have held her ground and just said no to begin with.
Coen waited for Dan to acknowledge him, but he kept examining the house, disappointment on his face. “I’m Coen,” he said as he outstretched his hand.
Dan took it. He shook it without looking at him. He wore a long sleeve blue shirt and dark jeans. His heavy boots left a trial of filth on the floor. Sydney was normally picky about keeping her house clean, but it would be pointless to ask him to remove his shoes. It would just lead to an argument, one that she would lose.
“Dan,” he said. He tossed the bags on the floor then walked further into the house.
Sydney sighed then followed them.
“When’s dinner gonna be ready?” Johnny said as he sat on the couch and grabbed the remote, turning on a reality show.
“In a few minutes,” Sydney answered tersely. She walked into the kitchen with Coen trailing behind her. Her family was so embarrassing that she wanted to cry. Her mom lit a cigarette and started to smoke it in the living room, and Dan placed his feet on the couch. Coen wouldn’t want to be with her after these next few days were over. She would judge him if he stayed.
She pulled the turkey out of the oven and started to set the table. Coen helped her and moved all of the heavy stuff for her. He set the table and lit a few candles, trying to tone down the tension in the room as much as possible. Sydney was not looking forward to eating. It would be quiet time where they were facing each other at the table, forced to speak to one another. She made sure she had the turkey carver next to her wine glass.
Coen glanced at her, a slight smile on his face. Humiliated by everything that was happening, she looked away and tried not to cry. She opened the refrigerator and looked for something she didn’t need. Wordlessly, he placed his hand on her back and kissed her neck, dissipating her tears. He placed his chest against her back and started to breathe, making her copy him. In a few seconds, she felt better. Coen grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the refrigerator, closing it.
“Dinner’s ready,” Coen said. Sydney was thankful for the announcement. Her throat was too dry to speak.
Dan clapped his hands together. “Bout’ time.”
Johnny walked to the table then dropped in his seat, scooping food onto his plate before everyone had taken their seats.
Just like Coen always did, he pulled Sydney’s seat out for her and helped her sit down before he sat beside her at the table. He poured her a glass of wine, knowing she would need it, then poured his own. “Denise, would you like some?”
“Yeah.” She practically threw her glass at him.
Coen didn’t react to her utter rudeness. With a smile on his face, he poured the wine and returned the glass to her. “Anyone else?”
“Beer,” Dan said.
“I apologize,” Coen said. “We don’t have any.”
Dan looked at Sydney. “You don’t have beer?” His bushy eyebrows drew together and his thick mustache twitched. “You knew we were coming and you didn’t get any?”
“We don’t drink beer,” Sydney said calmly. “We have water and wine. What would you like?” She was shocked that she kept her voice under control. It didn’t betray the pure hatred she felt underneath.
“Rude,” Dan said as he shoveled mashed potatoes into his mouth. No one said grace before they began. They just started to eat everything in sight. No one thanked her for the dinner or complimented her cooking. Nothing was said for a long time. She wasn’t sure if she should feel grateful or just awkward.
“Baby, this is really good. You did a wonderful job,” Coen said before he kissed her on the cheek.
She smiled at him. “Thank you.”
“Baby?” Dan asked incredulously. “That nickname is too intimate.”
“She’s my fiancé,” he said calmly.
“What?” he said, food falling from his mouth. He glared at Sydney. “Is that true?”
She held up her left hand. “Yes.”
“I don’t remember you asking for permission, bucko,” he snapped.
Coen didn’t react at all. In fact, his face was stoic. Sydney was shocked by how calm he was. If his family treated her like that, she would either tell them where to go or just walk out. Coen leaned back in his chair but didn’t clench his fists or glare at her stepfather. “Since her father passed away, I had no one to ask.”
“I am her father.”
Sydney almost shattered the wine glass under her hand. He had said that to her too many times. It was appalling and untrue. He wasn’t even like a father to her, just a man that made her life miserable. She refused to let that comment slide. If she was decked in the face because of it, so be it. She wanted him to hit her. Nothing would give her greater pleasure than beating the shit out of him in front of his own son. “You are not my father,” she said, staring directly into his eyes.
Dan met her look and rage sizzled in his irises. It made his coil snap just as much as it made hers. His possessiveness and control over her was something he enjoyed exerting. Every time she defied him, it pissed him off. He leaned forward and looked at her.
Sydney waited for him to say something but he didn’t. The tension picked up in the room. Johnny swirled his fork in his potatoes, his eyes watching the whole scene. Her mother glanced at them as she buttered her roll. Sydney kept her body relaxed as she waited for him to say or do something. Finally, he picked up his fork and kept eating, backing down.
Sydney was shocked. She hadn’t expected that reaction at all. He didn’t even yell at her or threaten to slap her. He continued to glance at her with looks of hate but that was the worst of it. When she looked at Coen, she saw the death threat in his eyes. Now she knew why Dan didn’t make a move. Coen was larger than him, his arms flanked with muscles and his shoulders wide. His chest was hidden under his shirt, but the dimensions of his chest were unmistakable. Pounds of muscle covered his chest and torso, making him a formidable opponent. If she were forced to fight him, unaware that he was proficient in different practices of martial arts, she would fear him. He was younger than Dan by many years, but that just made him even more frightening. His presence was her protection against another beating. She squeezed his hand under the table, thankful that he was there.
Her mother looked at her. “How’s school, Syd?”
“It’s good.”
“What are you learning again?”
“I want to be a marine biologist.”
“What the hell is that?” Johnny asked.
“I study the life of the ocean,” she said calmly.
“Waste of time,” Dan muttered as he spoke with his mouth full.
Coen looked at her mother. “She just did research with Dr. Gilbert Goldstein, one of the most respected researchers in his field. She studied the salt dilution methods of great white sharks. She’s very talented and intelligent. She’s one of the top students in our class.”
Sydney’s cheeks reddened as she listened to his praise of her. She wasn’t used to someone speaking of her in an admirable way. He sounded proud of her.
Her mother acted like the information meant nothing. “You should go into hair styling. They make good money.” She buttered another roll and shoved it into her mouth.
Sydney was speechless. The naivety and ignorance of her family baffled her. “This is what I love to do.”
“Well, it sounds boring,” Johnny said.
“It’s the most fascinating thing in the world,” she said quickly.
He rolled his eyes. “Sounds like you’re a hippie.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said as she drank from her w
ine glass again. She hardly touched her food but she wasn’t hungry.
Coen waited for them to ask about him, the man she was going to marry, but none of them seemed to care. “I’m also studying marine biology.”
“So you are perfect together,” Dan said sarcastically.
Coen drank from his glass but said nothing.
“Where am I sleeping?” Johnny blurted.
“In the entryway,” Sydney said.
“You don’t have another bedroom?” he asked, annoyed.
“You saw the size of this house,” she said sarcastically.
Dan narrowed his eyes at her. “Don’t talk to your brother like that.”
“This is my house,” she snapped. “I can talk to him however I want.”
His eyes lit up in flames but he still didn’t say anything. His hand gripped his knife.
Coen caught the look. “I’m also a personal trainer, proficient in self-defense, martial arts, and jiu-jitsu—just to let you know.”
Dan glanced at him but didn’t respond to his comment. “And where will we be sleeping?”
“In the living room,” Sydney said.
“What?” he snapped. “As your guests, we should get the bedroom.”
Sydney crossed her arms over her chest. “No. Coen and I are sleeping there.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You and Coen?” He glared at Coen. “That’s the most disrespectful thing I’ve ever heard. You have a lot of nerve.”
“I live here,” Coen said calmly.
“Even worse,” Dan snapped. “You aren’t even married. How can you defy God like that? Living together without being married?”
Sydney hated it when he spoke of religion. He had sex with her mother before they got married. The sound of the crashing headboard always woke her up. Then, he beat her until she was put in the hospital. How dare he speak of God. “You are such a hypocrite.”
Dan jumped from his seat. His chair skid across the floorboards as it moved. The table shook as he slammed his fists down, livid. Coen was on his feet just as fast, his arms dangling at his sides. Even though his stance wasn’t threatening, the look in his eyes was. Sydney remained in her seat, waiting for something to happen. Coen kept his word and didn’t attack but she knew it took all his patience to remain in control. A part of her wished he would just break his oath to her. Dan threw his napkin on the table. “Let’s hit the beach.” He walked away from the table and the other two trailed behind him.
Sydney didn’t want them to linger on the small beach next to her tiny shack. It was a safe haven for her. If their skin touched the water, poison would leak inside of it. They left their plates on the table, not offering to help her clean up. She still waited in vain for a thank you.
Coen helped clean up the table. He carried the dishes to the sink and started to rinse them. She watched him for a long time, admiring his devotion to her. He was insulted and challenged but he took it passively. She knew he was strong and had a short temper. The fact he was so calm was truly astounding. She hoped he wouldn’t leave her. She helped him clean the rest of the dishes and store the leftovers in Tupperware. When they were finished, Coen kissed her on the forehead. “Thank you for cooking Thanksgiving dinner.”
She felt the tears in her eyes. “You’re welcome.”
15
The three of them stayed on the beach until the sun set over the horizon. While they were gone, she and Coen prepared the air mattresses and laid them on the floor. They gathered a few pillows and blankets. Fortunately, it was never cold on the island so extra padding wasn’t a concern. And Sydney didn’t care how comfortable her guests were anyway.
When they came into the house, they trailed sand everywhere because they didn’t rinse off with the hose in the front. Sydney was already so annoyed that she didn’t bother to reprimand them. They were rude and stupid, ignorant to everyone around them.
All three of them took a shower and used up all the hot water. The bathroom was a total mess with toothpaste and toilet paper all over the place. She suspected that Johnny trashed it on purpose. She tried to ignore it. They were only there for a few days.
“Do you need anything?” Sydney asked as she walked into the living room.
Dan and her mom were lying on the air mattress. He turned on his side. “This is going to hurt my back.”
“There’re a ton of hotels you can stay at,” she said as she walked away. When she walked into the entry way, she looked at Johnny. “Need anything?”
He just stared at her, a hungry expression in his eyes.
“Good night, then.” She felt his eyes drill holes in her backside.
When she finally closed her bedroom door and locked it, she breathed a sigh of relief. She leaned against the door and closed her eyes, thankful for the separation. Coen was already sitting in bed, his head against the headboard. His chest was bare and he only wore his boxers.
“It’s only for a few days,” he whispered.
“I know.”
“Come to bed.”
She pulled one of his shirts from his drawer and put it on, sleeping in just her underwear. She crawled into bed alongside him. He took the side closest to the door, which he didn’t usually do. “The door is locked.”
“I know.”
She pulled the covers over her shoulder and sighed to herself. “I’m sorry you have to deal with this.”
“Stop that now.”
She stilled at the command in his voice. “You don’t deserve it.”
“I mean it, Syd.”
She wrapped her arms around him and held him close, trying not to cry. “Okay.”
“We’re a team. This is just for a few days. After they’re gone, you are never going to speak to them again. This is it—the last time.”
“Okay.”
He kissed her on the forehead. “Now go to sleep.”
“Thank you so much,” she said, squeezing him. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
He ran his fingers through her hair and stilled her frantic heart. He said nothing as he caressed her, running his fingers down her smooth skin and the soft locks of her hair. Not a single inch of her skin was untouched. He massaged the area between her legs and even her toes. Somehow, it made her relax enough to fall asleep, content with his hard body in her arms.
She felt the touch of cold against her neckline. It burned slightly then slithered across her skin. A snake was crawling across her, constricting around her windpipe. She dreamt she was in a jungle, running from an unseen enemy. Her heart hammered in her chest. She opened her eyes and felt her heart fall.
A hand covered her mouth while another held a knife to Coen’s throat. He was still asleep, unaware of the danger lurking so close. Her eyes widened as she looked at Johnny, a maniacal gleam in his eye. He nodded to the hand with the knife, holding it against Coen, then looked at the hand over her mouth. She knew what he meant. If she screamed, he would kill Coen.
He removed his hand, and when she didn’t scream, his smile widened. His hand moved under the blanket, slithering to the area between her legs. His fingers grazed her thigh. With every passing inch, she felt bile rise in her throat. She wanted Coen to wake up to save her, but at the same time, she didn’t.
“Let’s go outside so we don’t have to be quiet,” she whispered.
Coen didn’t stir at the sound of her voice.
Johnny was quiet for a long time before he held the blade against her throat instead, almost drawing blood. He grabbed her arm then gently pulled her from the bed. Coen started snoring but he still didn’t wake up. With the blade still held to her skin, Johnny marched her out of the room and through the front door.
Sydney felt her heart accelerate. She had spared Coen. That was all that mattered at that point. If something happened to him, she would never be able to forgive herself.
Johnny made her sit on the top stair. With the knife still held to her throat, he walked around her then kneeled before her. In the darkness, she could see the ere
ction in his pants. His breathing was heavy with excitement. It seemed like he would come just from getting her alone. He reached his hand up her shirt and grabbed her underwear, about to pull it down. As it started to yank, Sydney made her move.
She grabbed the knife then twisted it away from her neck, slamming it against the stairs. He still didn’t release the knife so she slammed his hand down again until it finally fell free. With the knife out of the way, she kicked him back, sending him to the dirt. Adrenaline coursed through her body, giving her more strength than she thought possible. He was twice her size but that didn’t slow her down. She pounced on him, slamming her fists against his face. His head flew back and surprise shined in his eyes, shocked that she was able to hit him so hard. She kicked him in the nuts and he yelled, screaming at the top of his lungs, but she punched him again. When the blood dripped from his nose, she smiled. It felt so good. Just to get more satisfaction, she socked him in the nuts again. He howled loudly, rolling over on his side.
The front door opened and Dan came running out. When he saw Johnny lying in the dirt, clutching himself, he eyed Sydney with hatred. “Get away from my son, you bitch!” He marched to her, his arms swinging at his sides. Her mother watched from the doorway, not making a move to help her.
Sydney watched him approach her, her defensive stance ready. She was ready for this, wanted it to happen. The hatred shined brighter in his eyes despite the blackness of the night. If he was ever going to kill her, he was going to do it now.
Her mom was pushed out of the way as Coen sprinted down the steps. He had his jeans on but his chest was still bare. He moved past her stepfather then placed himself in front of Sydney, his entire body blocking her from sight. She wished he hadn’t intervened but she could never ask him not to. That went against everything he believed in.
“Move out of my way, boy,” Dan said, grabbing his arm.
Quicker than Sydney could watch, his arm jerked away, making Dan take a step back. “Don’t touch her.”
He ignored him. “You beat my son, I beat you,” he said, trying to walk around Coen. Coen wouldn’t budge. He kept his body in front of her, completely sealing her off. “Get over here!”
