Pieces of Me

by Walker, Shiloh

  I smoothed my skirt around my knees, idly wondering what it said that I didn’t worry so much about Jenks in that regard. But I didn’t worry about Stefan coming after Jenks. He’d even left Seth alone once he realized he wouldn’t be able to push that man around. He’d tried, he’d failed. Marla, though…I shivered.

  He hadn’t tried to go after her, and I didn’t want to give him a reason to shift his attention that way.

  Smoothing my fingers across my skirt, I stared at my knees. “No,” I said again. “You two can go home. I’ll be fine here.”

  Seth hesitated. Marla sighed. Then she came toward me, bent down to hug me. “Call if you need me. We’ll be in touch.”

  “I know.” I pressed my face to her hair, breathed in the scent of the pear and vanilla shampoo she so loved. “Kick Seth in the knee for me. He’s oozing testosterone all over the place.”

  “He’s just worried.” She brushed my hair back, kissed my cheek. Then she turned back, gave Seth an odd look.

  He ignored her and came over. He crouched down in front of me and caught my hands, eying me strangely. The intent, almost angry look in his eyes unsettled me. “You call when you need me.”

  Not if…

  That bothered me.

  A lot.

  Then abruptly, he leaned in and grabbed me, held me tightly. “You need to get that son of a bitch to tell you the truth, Shadow,” he said, his voice low and urgent, just a bare whisper that only the two of us heard.

  Then, before I could even figure that out, he was gone, catching Marla’s hand and striding past Jenks without sparing the other man so much as a glance.

  Jenks didn’t even seem to notice.

  His eyes rested on me.

  And as he came my way, that heat inside my chest expanded even more. I felt as though I had a volcano inside me and it was threatening to erupt.

  “You want to tell me what is going on with the two of you?” I demanded.

  He was quiet.

  I surged up out of the seat and started to pace, unable to stay still. I’d left the bedroom because I felt trapped.

  Being outside should make it better, but it didn’t.

  It could be the darkness or maybe it was the walls within my own mind, closing in around me.

  Desperate to escape whatever prison had me feeling like this, I stalked back and forth along the railing, my skirt tangling around my legs, my skin icy even as that volcano in my chest tried to burn me.

  “Are you going to talk to me?” I asked when I whipped around and saw Jenks in my path.

  I thumped my fist against his chest and the anger that broke out over me, catching me in a tight, ruthless grip caught me completely off guard. Slamming my palms against his chest, I snarled at him. “Damn it, Jenks.”

  His hands caught my wrists.

  I went still.

  “Your friend is an ex-con,” he said quietly.

  Frozen, I stared up at him, his face caught half in the shadow, half in the light of the fire. It was an eerie depiction and the anger inside me quieted. It didn’t fade, but it went silent as I realized something life-shattering was about to happen.

  I just might need that anger even more in a minute.

  Twisting out of his reach, I backed away. “Yeah? So what?”

  “You knew.”

  “Yes.” I swiped my hands down my skirt, painfully aware of the fact that I was shaking. Shaking. I hated that I felt like this. That Jenks had made me feel like this. “He told me. That was how Stefan thought to use him—he had a record, and Stefan thought it made him an easy mark. Seth came to me. He fucked up, got his life on track. Doesn’t make him a bad person.”

  Jenks looked down, his gaze on his feet. Wide shoulders rose and fell. “I hope you remember that, sugar. Fuck, I hope you remember that.” Then he turned away. Over his shoulder, he said, “Wait here.”

  Wait here.

  He disappeared into the bedroom, but he wasn’t gone for more than a minute before he returned, carrying something in his hand. “People sometimes lie,” he said. “Most of the time, it’s for bullshit reasons. Other times, they have to. I didn’t have much choice.”

  Then he extended his hand and I stared at what he held out for a long, long time before it made sense.

  When it finally did, I turned away.

  Chapter Fifteen

  My legs didn’t want to work.

  Clutching at the railing made it easier to stand, but I couldn’t clutch at the railing and still walk into the cottage and pack. It didn’t work out.

  My brain wouldn’t stop spinning.

  And I thought maybe my heart was withering inside my chest.

  “You’re a cop.”

  Well. That’s a brilliant observation, I thought as he remained silent behind me.

  I continued to cling to the railing as awful sobs built inside me. I wanted to turn around and throw myself at him, beat him, bloody that beautiful face of his, but there was no point.

  Although the reasons for it had yet to come out, one thing was clear.

  Jenks had lied to me.

  Now I just wanted to understand why.

  Once I did that, I could maybe get my leaden legs to work and then I could drag myself out of there.

  My voice trembled as I forced the words out, “Tell me.”

  And all I got was more silence.

  The volcano erupted.

  There was a pretty glass hurricane lamp on one of the tables and I didn’t even remember grabbing it, much less throwing it. But I remember seeing it smash into the wall, seeing the shards flying. I remember seeing the surprise on his face as he looked at me.

  “Shadow—”

  There was a bottle of water on the table. Not much else, but he always managed to make sure there was a bottle of water any place I might be and I always ended up out here. The bottle went flying next and then I was caught against him, his hips pinning mine to the wooden railing at my back, his hands capturing my wrists. “Stop,” he whispered, his voice ragged. “Just stop. I’ll tell you.”

  But I didn’t want to stop.

  Somewhere inside me, there had been a kernel of rage and he’d just managed to expose it.

  As he leaned in, pressed his brow to mine, I struck out, sinking my teeth into his lip, so hard I broke the skin.

  He jerked back but said nothing.

  I kicked him. My foot was bare and it hurt me more than him, but I didn’t let that stop me.

  His hands fell away from my wrists and I made a fist, striking out.

  He took that hit, and another.

  Then I reached up. Caught his face.

  He stared at me, his eyes unreadable.

  When I pulled his face to mine, he came.

  Anger surged and hurt burned. Underneath it all, that need was still there. They all danced around and the lust that exploded through me was more than I could handle. This time, I was the one to trace his lips with my tongue. I was the one to tear his jeans open and free his cock.

  “Damn you,” I muttered, tears burning my eyes as he sank inside me, my hips braced against the railing.

  “I know.” He held me open and his hands were gentle.

  Gentle wasn’t what I wanted or what I needed. I bit him again and tightened my knees around him. “Don’t be nice right now.” I glared at him and pulled myself closer, wrapping myself against him.

  He stilled, staring at me.

  And then he lifted me, turned.

  A moment later, I was caught between him and the wall. Glass crunched under his boots and I didn’t care. I felt like there were shards of it driving into my heart with each thrust but nothing mattered. For now, there was this. It was the one thing that was real. He did want me.

  Maybe all he wanted was sex and everything else was a job, but he did want me.

  That counted for something…it had to.

  I locked him out of the bathroom.

  I needed to be alone for a few minutes.

  Part of me wanted to find a
way out of there. Maybe go to the airport and just run away. Forever.

  I could do it.

  I had everything I needed. I had my passport, money in the bank. If I took my MacBook, I could work from anywhere and set up in another town, another state, another country if I had to.

  On legs that shook, I climbed into the shower, pummeled by memories of that first time we were there. It all felt so real. As though he cared. As though he wanted me. No, it went deeper than that. Felt like something so much more. He was already in my blood, in my soul and I could have sworn he felt the same. Was it all lies?

  Soap suds ran into my eyes, blinding me and I let myself pretend for a minute that was why the tears started to run. I didn’t take comfort in the lie for long, and I didn’t let myself cry for very long, either. That volcano in my chest had emptied itself and now all that remained was ash. I felt hollow, empty.

  After I’d washed, I climbed out and then stood there, lost and staring at nothing. I had no clothes, except the dirty ones I’d left in a pile by the sink and I couldn’t tolerate the idea of putting them on. They would smell of him, and they’d feel of lies and brokenness and desolation.

  Instead, I wrapped myself in a towel and slid out of the room.

  He’d talked me into putting my clothes away, hanging up my skirts, some of the shirts, using the empty space in his dresser for my panties and bras. Now as I pulled out the drawer and grabbed a clean set of lingerie, I wondered why I had bothered.

  The floorboards creaked behind me but I didn’t turn around.

  Cool air danced across my skin as I dropped the towel. I felt his eyes on my back as I donned the panties, a bra. As I turned to go to the closet, he stared at me, hands in his pockets. My gaze skated past his. I didn’t want to see him, talk to him. Nothing.

  I’d have to, but I didn’t want it to be now. There was no hope for it, though. I’d have to talk to him. See him. Deal with him.

  Clothes first. I’d feel better once I was dressed.

  None of the long skirts or drapy shirts looked right. My hand landed one of his shirts, a simple black button-down and I grabbed it. My heart gave a single, hard bump against my ribs as his scent surrounded me, but I ignored it. A new start, maybe. It was time for a new start.

  I shoved my arms into the sleeves and buttoned it up before I looked at him.

  “I want to know why,” I said, surprised at how firm my voice was, how solid I sounded.

  “Why what?”

  I snorted, and it caught us both off guard. He’d talked me into putting my clothes away, but now, in the frustration, I couldn’t find them. I jerked drawers open until I did. I pulled out a pair of jeans and donned them, buttoning them and turning to glare at Jenks. “You know why. You had a reason, you son of a bitch. Why the fuck did you decide to use me?”

  That caught his attention.

  He came off the wall and prowled toward me, his eyes narrowed, one hand clenched into a tight fist.

  He reached up to touch me and I jerked back.

  He froze, his hand lingering there in midair before he stopped, dropped it to his side.

  “I never used you,” he said, his voice taut.

  “Oh, please.” Too much, I realized.

  It was too much. I had a fleeting memory of watching as the earth was shoveled over my parents’ coffins—it had started then, maybe. That was when I started letting things trap me, although it had been quiet, subtle little things. My aunt hadn’t loved me and I’d known it, tolerated it because I hadn’t had to live there for long. I’d stayed in my room, kept quiet, pretended that I hadn’t even existed, just so I wouldn’t have to fight with her. Stefan—he had made me think he had loved me, but even from the beginning, he had made me change what I was.

  Who I was, even. I couldn’t be Shadow. The flighty, weird name my mother had given me wasn’t appropriate. I had to be Grace. My laugh had been too loud. I wouldn’t even recognize the sound of it now. Even on the rare occasion that I did laugh, my laugh was…broken, just like my voice. Just like me, in many ways. I was remaking myself, but I’d never be the same.

  I forced myself to look at Jenks. “What do you want?” I snarled, anger, a living, breathing beast in my chest, pulsing and throbbing like a wild thing.

  His eyes held mine.

  “I don’t want anything now that I didn’t want a week ago, two hours ago.” He took one step.

  I tensed.

  He turned away, biting off a curse. “Why the fuck are you afraid of me?”

  “I’m not afraid of you.” And it was the truth. Imagine that. I could actually look at him and say that and mean it. I waited until his gaze came back to mine. “I’m pissed off and I’m hurt and I’m confused…and I can’t trust you. You won’t tell me what’s going on, Jenks. Damn it. What is going on?”

  His mouth opened. Closed.

  But in the end, he didn’t say anything.

  I nodded, my heart cracking. Then I turned back and finished packing. “Whatever it is, I hope it’s important.”

  I guess it was. Somewhere deep inside, a part of me realized one crucial thing. He did care about me. Later on down the road, that might help. Some. But it didn’t help right now.

  The only thing that was going to help was the one thing I was already doing.

  I was packed in under twenty minutes. It would have only taken fifteen, but I had to stop and call a cab.

  I didn’t know where to go.

  I’d lived on Pawley’s Island for nearly three years now. It wasn’t far from the more populated areas of Myrtle Beach, but I rarely ventured outside my safe zone.

  I had no idea where to go.

  The cab driver gave me an odd look as I told him to just drive around.

  I guess he didn’t get too many people who didn’t care about that running meter, but I needed to think and I didn’t care that the meter was running.

  After twenty minutes of just driving, watching as that fare went higher and higher, I pulled out my phone and started a search. I couldn’t go back home. For the very same reasons as before, Seth and Marla’s place was out of the question.

  But I couldn’t spend the rest of my life in the back of a cab, either. Especially not one that smelled of French fries, one of those tree-shaped air fresheners, and too much Old Spice. A search for hotels near Pawley’s Island led me to a travel site and the very first one was a very pricey hotel that boasted beautiful views of the bay and my heart clutched a little as I saw it.

  Beautiful.

  It was beautiful. It was also perfect.

  It was a drive, closer to Myrtle Beach, but that wasn’t a problem.

  Without thinking twice, I called.

  There were rooms available and that was all I needed to know.

  The cab driver looked relieved to have a destination in mind and I was relieved to be out of the car, some thirty minutes later. It was past eleven and I needed to close my eyes, put my head on a pillow, even if I didn’t sleep.

  Somehow, someway, I’d figure out what to do, where to go from here.

  Because I knew they’d worry, I sent Seth and Marla a text.

  Not staying with J. Asked him the truth. He told me. Left and went to a hotel. I need a few days. I’ll call.

  That was it.

  Short and sweet.

  Part of me wanted to call Seth and yell at him. Damn him to hell, but if he’d kept his mouth shut, I could have lived in blissful ignorance for a good long while.

  It wasn’t his fault, though.

  My chest ached and I rubbed the heel of my hand over the hole where my heart had once been.

  A few months ago, I’d wanted to wake up. Feel alive again.

  Now I just wanted to go back to the numb solitude where I’d existed for so long. What had I been thinking? It was so much easier, I thought, to feel nothing.

  The view from the room was beautiful.

  The room itself was beautiful.

  I thought maybe I could use it as inspiration and maybe just
stay there for a long, long time. I could draw the city, draw the people walking by. Maybe stay for a week or two, a month. I had the money. I needed to rethink my life.

  No. I needed to get a life. I didn’t have one now. I scrambled to pick up whatever excess emotions that I could and I clung to the man who’d shown me kindness, but was that really a life?

  Kindness.

  Even as I tried to insist that was the word I needed, another part of me processed it and then threw it back at me, laughing hysterically.

  What Jenks had shown me went a lot deeper than kindness.

  “Do you really think he’s just been engaging in pity fucks?” I muttered, turning away from the jewel-toned lights of the skyline. Myrtle Beach was almost drab during the day, but at night, it came to life.

  The beautiful room spread out before me and I collapsed on the bed, hugging a pillow to my chest.

  No. It was more, and I knew it. But it was so hard to understand what it was when he wouldn’t talk to me.

  Maybe I should push the issue.

  If I mattered, and I thought I did, I should make it clear he either had to talk to me, now…well. Not this minute now, but within a reasonable time frame, or it was just over.

  I’d pack up, move on. I loved Pawley’s Island but I could find another place to love. I’d miss Seth and Marla, but that wasn’t enough to hold me there. Especially since Stefan was starting to harass me.

  I needed something else.

  Something more.

  I started to reach for my phone, but in the end, I settled on the little balcony with my laptop. It would be easier to think this through if I wrote it all out in an email. Then I wouldn’t have to wait and hold my breath on an immediate answer, anyway.

  Easier that way, all around.

  Already thinking it through, I logged in to my email.

  I didn’t pay attention to the all the emails I had in my inbox. The number made me wince, but I’d mentally been preparing for it—the horror of that picture on my site was going to cause some sort of response and plenty of friends and colleagues would be checking on me. None had my phone number—I didn’t trust anybody enough to give them that, but they’d get in contact however they could.