by J. L. Perry
Stupid fucker.
My heart skips a beat as I drive up to the house. Wouldn’t you know it, the first thing I see is her. Just my fucking luck. It looks like she’s washing her car. She’s bent over the hood wearing these tiny little denim shorts. That fucking arse. Jesus I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about that arse.
I find it ironic, because the first day I arrived here, her arse was the first thing I saw. Now here I am five years later, and the same fucking thing happens. Déjà vu at its fucking worst. Is the universe trying to fuck with me, or what?
My hands are slightly trembling as I pull into the driveway. My gut is churning. My eyes are trained on her. Please be happy to see me, is my first thought. She straightens up. Her back still to me. When her body stiffens, I know she knows it’s me. The sound of my car probably gave it away.
I still have my Monaro. I’ll never get rid of her. I finally got to finish it. It looks so bad-arse. I fucking love this car. It still has the original Flamenco Red paintwork. I just had it redone. I also kept the black GT stripes on the hood. I replaced the tired old motor with a Blown 350 Chev and a manualised automatic transmission. The interior has been refreshed using a soft black leather. The seats have been recovered in black leather as well, with a red leather stripe through the centre. It has chrome-spoked mags on the fat eighteen-inch tyres. It looks fucking sick. Nothing gets the adrenaline pumping more than being in control of 750HP of pure muscle. I’ve had so many offers to buy this beauty, but I’d never part with her. I’ve spent a small fortune getting her to where she is now, but it was worth every cent. She’s my baby.
Everything seems to slow down as I stay seated in my car staring in her direction. It’s like the world’s suddenly moving in slow motion. She turns. When her eyes meet mine she takes my breath away, literally. Fuck she’s even more beautiful than I remember. Her eyes widen in shock and the sponge in her hand drops to the ground.
I can’t seem to move as I drink her in. My heart is thumping furiously against my ribcage. Fuck I’ve missed those eyes, those lips—her. She hasn’t changed much, just grown. A sixteen year old Indi was beautiful. A twenty-two year old Indi—fucking stunning. My kid is no longer a kid. She’s a sexy-as-hell woman. Drop dead fucking gorgeous.
Only when I manage to pull myself together do I get out of the car. Her eyes are still trained on me. I feel my lips turn up at the corners. Words can’t express how good it feels to see her again in the flesh. I take a step towards her. Her eyes narrow and my smile grows. I’ve missed her spunk, and the attitude that not only pissed me off all those years ago, but turned me the hell on.
“Hey,” I say as I walk towards her. She doesn’t reply. Instead her hands move to her hips and her scowl deepens. I guess after all this time she’s still pissed off with me. I can’t really blame her. “Well look at you,” I add as I bend down and retrieve the sponge she dropped by her feet. As I stand, I can’t hold back the whistle that escapes my mouth as my eyes travel up those sexy, lean legs of hers. It makes my cock twitch. The effect she has on me hasn’t dwindled one bit. What I wouldn’t give to run my fingers, better yet, my tongue, up the length of her legs, burying my face in her sweetness. “The kid’s all grown up,” I smirk when my eyes meet hers again.
Fuck me she’s fine.
“I’m not a fucking kid anymore,” she snaps.
Leaning forward so my face is only inches from hers, I whisper, “I can see that.” Her pupils dilate and I hear her breath hitch. I immediately know my effect on her hasn’t diminished either. It takes everything in me not to pull her into my arms and squeeze the fucking life out of her. Why did I leave it so long to see her? Just being near her again makes me feel alive. “It’s good to see you again, Indi.”
“Well, the feeling’s not mutual,” she says frowning. She’s lying, I can tell. Her body language is saying the complete opposite to her words. She’s still a stubborn arse I see. My eyes leave hers and gaze down at her lips. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve dreamt of those lips over the past five years. Too many to count. I want to kiss her so bad my fucking chest aches. I let my eyes drop a little lower. That’s when I see the necklace I bought her for her seventeenth birthday. I can’t believe she’s still wearing it. It has me smiling like a damn fool. You have no idea what seeing that means to me.
I watch her chest rise and fall as her breathing quickens. She can deny it all she wants, but she’s effected by me. “My eyes are up here, buddy,” she spits. I want to laugh at her comment. I love her smart mouth. I’m glad this part of our relationship hasn’t changed.
Underneath the material of her white top, I can see a hint of her white lace bra covering the swell of her breasts. It gives me an idea. I can’t help myself. I lift the sponge in my hand until it’s hovering over her tits. I hear her gasp when she realises what I’m about to do. I clench my fist tight and the water drips out. It soaks into the fabric of her top, making it transparent. Her nipples harden and so does my cock. Christ. I haven’t even touched her yet and I swear I could break diamonds with this fucker.
Peeling my gaze from her spectacular rack, I make eye contact with her again. I’m feeling quite pleased with myself, but that feeling doesn’t last long. The anger I see in her eyes is not what I’m expecting. When did she lose her sense of humour? I guess I should’ve known from past experience, when it comes to her, I’m playing with fire. Especially since she has five years of pent up anger towards me inside her.
This is one time I’m not anticipating her next move. So when it comes, I’m totally taken by surprise. She raises her right leg slightly and then, BOOM. She knees me fair smack in the nuts. Hard. Jesus fucking Christ.
All the air gushes from my lungs as pain radiates through my whole body. My dick goes instantly limp. Fuck, I think she just killed it. I’m pretty sure my boys are now lodged somewhere in my throat.
A feral, high-pitched sound escapes me as I fall to my knees in agony. “Stay the fuck away from me, arsehole,” she screams as she turns and runs inside.
Somebody call an ambulance. I think I’m gonna die.
CHAPTER TWO
Indiana
Tears threaten to fall as I storm down the hall towards my room, but I will them back down. I shed a lot of tears after he left, too many to count. I refuse to shed another. Fuck him.
Ripping my wet shirt over my head, I throw it across the room in anger before flopping face first onto my bed. He’s back. After all this time he’s come home. I don’t know how I feel about that. Actually, yes I do. I’m elated, devastated, and pissed off like you wouldn’t believe. Is it possible to feel so many emotions at the same time? I guess it is, because I’m feeling all of them right now.
I knew in my heart what I felt for him all those years ago was still lurking somewhere in the background. Hidden deep within the depths of my soul. Seeing him now has brought everything flooding back to the surface. It took me years to move on after he left. Fucking years.
I can’t go there again, I just can’t.
There was a time I would’ve done anything to see him again. Absolutely anything. But, he’s come back five years too late. I have Mark now. Next week we’ll be celebrating one year together. I care for him deeply. Maybe even love him. To be honest, I’m not sure. He’s already told me he loves me, but I can’t say it back. Not until I’m one hundred percent certain. Maybe because what I feel for him doesn’t hold a candle to what I once felt for Carter. I think that’s what’s throwing me.
Mark’s handsome, successful and hardworking, but he’s never been able to ignite the burning desire within like Carter could. Mark and I met at college. He chased me for months before I eventually gave in and agreed to go on a date with him. We’ve been together ever since. He’s the first guy I’ve been intimate with since Carter. I stayed clear of any kind of relationship after he left.
For years my shattered heart still belonged to him.
Finally, I gave in to the notion that he wasn’t coming ba
ck, so I decided I needed to at least try and love again. Mark’s a good guy. The total opposite to Carter. He’s definitely not what you’d call the bad boy type. He’s safe. Stable. Most importantly, he loves me. He’d never walk away from me. Never crush me the way Carter did all those years ago.
••••
I locked myself in my room for most of the morning. I wasn’t aware of what was going on next door until I finally surfaced. I had no idea Mr. Shepard had passed away during the night. That’s obviously the reason why Carter has returned. To be honest, I’m glad he’s dead. The way he treated his stepson and what he did to me after Carter left, I can’t say I’m upset about his passing.
“Elizabeth’s a mess,” my father says over lunch.
“I bet she is,” is my only reply.
“Carter came home this morning,” he adds giving me a strange look. I know he’s waiting to see my reaction. Well he’s not getting one.
“Yeah I know. I’ve already had the misfortune of running into him.” I take a bite of my sandwich so I don’t have to say anymore.
“You’re still angry after all these years?” he asks reaching across the table and placing his hand over mine. I sigh.
“No,” I lie. My dad cocks an eyebrow. I try to act like I’m unaffected, but I get the impression he can see straight through my facade. I divert my eyes and take another bite of my sandwich.
“Five years have passed, Pumpkin,” he says tightening his grip on my hand. “Maybe it’s time to let all that hurt and anger go. He may have been a little misguided in his thinking, but he did what he thought was best.” Does he think I haven’t tried to let this go? Tried to forget him? I know he had his reasons for leaving. I get that. In my eyes though, the way he went about it was wrong. The fact that I haven’t heard a word from him in five years cuts me to the core. I’m not sure if I can get past that.
“Can we change the subject, Daddy? I don’t want to talk about Carter Reynolds.”
“Fair enough. Let’s talk about the funeral then.” He gives me a weak smile before continuing. “I know how you feel about John, Indi,” he says. “I feel the same way. In saying that though, I think we should attend the funeral. For Elizabeth and Carter’s sake. As a sign of respect to them.” I roll my eyes. Going to that cocksucker’s funeral is the last thing I want to do.
“Fine,” I sigh. I don’t like that idea one bit, but I’ll go for Elizabeth’s sake. Nothing else. She’s a sweet lady. I’ll never understand what she saw in that jackass, but he was her husband, so I guess she’ll need all the support she can get.
••••
I’ve managed to evade Carter for the past two days. My emotions are still all over the place since seeing him again. I’ve spent the last two nights at Mark’s house which is something I rarely do, but it was the only way I could avoid running into him.
Thankfully, work’s been flat out, so during the day I haven’t had time to think about anything else. To think about him. The guy that crushed my heart.
Today is Mr. Shepard’s funeral, so avoiding him isn’t going to be an option. That’s if Carter even attends. I know how he felt about his stepfather. We share a loathing for him. I’m pretty sure he’ll be there for his mother though. It’s the only reason my dad and I are going.
“You look lovely, Pumpkin,” my father says smiling when I walk into the kitchen. For funeral attire, I suppose I look okay. I’m wearing a knee-length, black fitted pencil skirt, a short sleeve black silk blouse and black heels. My long, dark hair is pulled into a tight bun on the top of my head.
“Thanks, Dad. You look nice, too,” I reply as I walk towards him and plant a soft kiss on his cheek. He looks handsome in his black suit. I’m sure he has a lot of lady admirers. I understand how much he loved my mum, but I wish he could let go of the past. It’s been sixteen years since her death. It’s time he started to live again.
I’m concerned about him going today. I hope it doesn’t bring up memories of my mum’s funeral. Things are still hard for him. Well, the fact that he continues to lock himself away those two days every year, tells me they are.
There’s a black car parked in next door’s driveway when we leave. I feel sick in the stomach on the drive to the crematorium. Not about the funeral, but about seeing Carter. I feel like a fraud going to the funeral of someone I hate. I’ll never be able to find it in my heart to forgive him for what he did. Never.
Once we park the car, dad and I head over to the chapel. We mill around outside with the others. All of ten people I might add. I guess being the world’s biggest prick meant he didn’t have many friends.
My dad makes small talk with the two men standing beside us, while I try and calm the inner turmoil raging within me about seeing Carter. I overhear one of the men tell my father he’s Mr. Shepard’s brother. I’m not usually judgemental, but I’m immediately sceptical of him. After all, they’re related. The other man says he’s one of Mr. Shepard’s employees. It makes me wonder if any of the people here were actually his friends. People like him don’t have friends I guess. Just enemies.
My stomach’s doing flip-flops when the funeral car arrives. I presume Carter and his mother are in the black car that pulls up behind it. It was the one that I saw parked in their driveway before we left. My hands are trembling so I wrap them around my middle. The driver gets out of the car and makes his way towards the back door. I try not to look when he opens it, but my damn eyes aren’t doing what they’re told.
Carter gets out of the car first. I swear I stop breathing as soon as I see him. He’s dressed in a black suit. He looks so different. So grown up. So damn hot. For some reason it makes my heart ache. I’ve never seen him in anything other than casual attire. He is absolutely breathtaking. No other words could describe how good he looks. Seventeen year old Carter was a sight, but an adult Carter … no words.
He reaches for his mother’s hand and helps her from the vehicle. My heart hurts for her when I see how broken she looks. Poor thing. I feel bad that I haven’t given her my condolences yet, but there was no way I was going over to her house knowing Carter was there.
Carter leads her over towards the chapel. When she gets a glimpse of the coffin in the back of the hearse, a fresh load of tears fall from her red, puffy eyes. I feel my own eyes well just watching her. She looks so broken. Carter wraps her in his arms and holds her tight. Memories of what it felt like when he held me like that flood my mind. I try to push those thoughts away. That’s the past and exactly where it needs to stay. I have Mark now.
When he first left all those years ago, I was heartbroken. I cried for weeks. Part of me understood why he felt he had to go. I didn’t like it, but I understood. As the months and years passed though, and I got no word from him, none whatsoever, that hurt turned to anger. I know the night I gave him my virginity we’d agreed it would only be one night, but that night, I not only gave him my virtue, I gave him my heart. When he left the very next day without so much as a goodbye, it crushed me. I’m not sure if I can forgive him for that.
We may not have been in a relationship, but first and foremost, he was my friend. Friend’s don’t treat each other like that. He made me, and what we shared in our short time together seem inconsequential. Did I mean so little to him? I guess so.
After shaking Carter’s hand, my dad wraps Mrs. Shepard in his arms. She cries into his chest. He’s lost his spouse as well, so if anyone knows what she’s going through right now it’s him. As I watch them together, I can feel Carter’s eyes boring into me. I don’t dare look. Thankfully, I’m wearing my large, dark sunglasses so he can’t see my eyes.
When my father lets go of Mrs. Shepard, I wrap my arms around her. “I’m sorry for your loss, Elizabeth,” I say.
“Thank you, sweetie,” she sniffles as she returns the hug. Letting go, I step back so she can move on to the next guest. A shadow falls over me. Looking up, I find Carter standing in front of me. The cheeky fucking bastard has his arms outstretched, waiting for his hug.
I don’t think so buddy. I see a smirk cross his face when my brow furrows. Before I get a chance to say anything he pulls me into his arms. Fucker. He knows I’m not going to make a scene at a funeral.
God he smells amazing.
I know I should push him away, but for some reason I can’t. My arms seem to have a mind of their own when they slide around his waist. He exhales, pulling me in tight. “Christ I’ve missed you,” he whispers so only I can hear. Tears sting my eyes. I’ve missed him too, but it’s too late for that. I waited for years for him to return, and when he didn’t I moved on.
When reality hits, I have no choice but to pull away. All these feelings that I’m having towards him are consuming me with guilt. Making me feel like I’m doing wrong by Mark. As much as I hate to say this, once the funeral is over, I hope Carter goes back to wherever he came from. Having him around again is too hard. I have a new life now. A life that doesn’t include him.
••••
For the rest of the service I don’t leave my father’s side. The whole time I feel Carter’s eyes on me. Only once do I give in to the temptation to look his way. Of course I find him staring straight at me. The sad look on his face as his eyes bore into mine makes my chest ache for some reason. I quickly divert my eyes back to the front of the room.
After we left the Chapel, Mrs. Shepard invited us to her house for the wake. I had no intentions of going back, but the pleading look in her eyes when she asked had me saying yes. Damn it. Carter better stay the hell away.
“I’m not going to stay long,” I tell my father when we pull into our driveway. I can’t handle these feelings Carter evokes in me when he’s around. Staying away from him is the only way.
“Sure, Pumpkin. I’m sure Elizabeth and Carter will appreciate you making an appearance.”
Of course when we enter the house the first person I see is him. His eyes immediately find mine. The corners of his lips turn up slightly, making his gorgeous face even more handsome. He’s standing in the corner of the main room looking completely out of place. Why I feel bad for him, I can’t say. I suppose it would suck to feel uncomfortable in your own home, I guess. I find myself wanting to go over and talk to him, but I don’t. Instead I head towards the kitchen to see if there’s anything I can do to help. At least in here I’ll be away from his watchful gaze.
