by KC Klein
He got up, changed out his ice pack, and made his way back toward bed. Some days were better if he just started over—some nights also. He pulled back his covers, ready to crawl in fully clothed.
Maybe it was the tequila still humming in his brain. Or maybe the punch to the head had caused a slight concussion, but regardless, it took a long time for Jett to process what his eyes were telling him. There on the thousand count sheets was a smattering of red. Blood. And not his blood; he hadn’t been anywhere near his bedroom since Cole had come knocking.
Which left Nikki.
And with a sinking feeling in his heart he realized that when Cole had broken his nose, he had let him off way too easy.
Chapter 21
Katie tilted her head, her face taking the brunt of the spray from the shower. She sighed, letting the warmth of the water smooth away the grittiness behind her closed lids.
She’d left Pa sleeping at the hospital. But the nurse said he would probably be discharged in a day or so. For now, it was enough that she was clean, warm, and out of the hospital that smelled of plastic and sickness.
Pa’s words circled in her head. I told him no, of course.
How could Pa have kept this from her? But then again, this was her father. His craftiness wasn’t limited to business only; it extended to the ones he loved. She turned the knob farther to the left, cranking up the heat.
So cold.
A chill that had nothing to do with temperature nestled in her bones. It was an age-old coldness she’d carried since childhood, the fear of loneliness.
All this time. All these years and now the truth.
Cole had wanted to marry her.
She couldn’t believe it; a part of her didn’t want to. Katie turned and let the hot water pound against the pressure forming at the back of her skull.
But he was the one who’d pushed her away. She’d gone to him with hope and—her stomach clenched at the memory of being a young girl who still believed in fairy tales.
No, Pa had to be wrong.
But the nagging in her gut spoke a different truth. The evidence was wet and shiny on her finger, a perfect fit.
No. She shook her head. How could she forget the years of recriminations, of embarrassing memories that haunted the quiet moments before sleep? Her bold admissions of love that left footprints of shame through her dreams.
But who was she kidding? She stood with Cole’s ring on her finger, willing to rush headlong into the fire again.
And what about Thomas? Guilt rushed up on her like gravity during a fall. She splayed her palm against the cool tile, and bent over, trying to keep her pain small.
Thomas, who wore cotton-blended pants with perfectly centered creases. Thomas, who ironed his T-shirts and counted carbs with mathematical precision. Who’d mapped out her classes and bought her four-dollar lattes every morning. Who’d picked her up and helped her when she’d been a shattered, lonely girl. Who was someone she could make laugh.
Thomas, who’d been willing to wait until marriage.
How could I do this? How could I betray a man who cared so much for me?
Her eyes closed against the image of Cole going down on one knee, his eyes scared and hopeful at the same time, voice breaking on her whispered name.
How could I not?
Katie washed her hair, scrubbed her body as if doing penance, and then shaved her legs smooth. She stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a towel. She peered in the bathroom mirror, frightened by the washed-out face reflecting back.
Her eyes, wide and brown, and ringed with leftover mascara, spoke her heart.
As if there’d ever been a question.
And tonight was the night she’d fantasized about, dreamt about, begged God for. Her world was going up in flames and she welcomed the heat. Because regardless, tonight would be her wedding night.
A smile quivered at her lips. She sighed and let it break through.
Thank you, God, I’ve married Cole.
Katie shoved her hands in the pockets of her wool coat, glad for the warmth. Even though the winters in Texas were mild, her outfit was anything but. Impractical, rash, daring, her dress said it all. The plunging low-cut summer dress swished around high mid-thigh, which made the most of her best asset, her legs. Of course, finding her fire-red cowboy boots hadn’t hurt either.
The night sang the unique lullaby she’d never heard in the city, crickets chirping, horses neighing, and the low whistle as the wind played through the bare branches of the trees.
Katie closed her eyes and filled her lungs with the scent of hay and grass, jasmine and horses—the scent of home.
She knew Cole would’ve come and picked her up, was probably expecting her to call at any time, but she wanted to walk over to his house. So many times she’d run, headlong, heart racing, hope bursting. This time she wanted to take it slow. She wanted to savor the moment, taste the night on her tongue, breathe in the scent of where her memories lived. Give Sweet Thing an apple.
And Katie smiled. She knew a grin split her face, but a piece of her had been found, a contentment she’d never known before settled on her.
She made herself avoid the stables, instead passing by the holding area where Sweet Thing was kept. The pasture was huge, and in the dark it seemed empty. Katie leaned against the fence post, snuggled deeper in her coat, and whistled her low, smooth call. Then waited.
There was a time when her low call would bring the beautiful roan running, nose in the air, cautious and alert, but still greedy enough to want her treat.
This time, there was no sound of clopping hooves or rustling grass, but still Katie waited.
One more time then.
Katie moistened her lips and blew out the familiar whistle.
No answer.
“That’s okay, girl.” Katie crouched down and took the apple out of her pocket. She rolled it under the fence and watched it disappear into the blackness like an offering to the night. Katie followed it with a blown kiss. “There’s always tomorrow, and I’m not going anywhere.”
With her heart filled with hope and possibilities, Katie nearly bounced her way toward Cole’s house. The porch light shown bright as if calling her home, but she didn’t need it. Nothing could dim the brightness she had within her.
Katie walked to where the grass met the gravel drive. In the shadows of the porch was Cole, black Stetson, dark jeans, his back toward her. She quieted her steps, wanting to catch him by surprise, a game they used to play when she was younger.
A bit closer. Breath held a moment longer. Then her boots stilled.
The head under the Stetson was bent over something . . . or rather someone. A woman.
Red static fuzzed her peripheral vision. A muffled roar as if the whole world had been plunged underwater.
And then another sound, a severing—a tear of fabric being rent in two, except inside her, down deep, as if vital organs were being torn asunder.
Then flashes of the past were transposed over reality and she was a young girl again watching the parade of Cole’s lovers as they walked down his front porch steps. The years of longing for a single smile. The long nights she spent burning for his touch.
And a hurt that had never healed tore open.
Stupid. Fool. All over again.
She would kill him with her bare hands.
Chapter 22
Jett never dressed in all black, too cliché. But tonight it fit his mood. He’d taken his time also. This was too important not to look his best. His black shirt was ironed, boots polished, black felt hat brushed. He believed rushing resulted in failure. Success was always in the details.
He’d walked up the front steps of the Logans’ home, but hesitated before knocking. He knew this house brought back a lot of memories for Nikki, mostly bad. But Jett had his share of memories here also. He’d been the new kid in the second grade, and in a town that measured residency in generations, it hadn’t been an easy transition. That first day Jett watched Cole eye h
is new skateboard with a hunger that Jett, at eight years old, had never seen. Desperate for a friend, he gave Cole the board. No big deal—he had five more at home. That was all it took, a twenty-dollar toy, and Cole was committed for life. Yeah, Cole was pigheaded, they’d thrown blows like brothers, but in the end he knew Cole always had his back.
Or at least he had until last night. Taking his sister’s virginity was more than likely crossing the line.
There had been summers he’d basically lived at the Logans’ house. His dad traveled, and his mom had her social functions to attend to. Lord only knows what his sisters had been up to, something to do with boys probably. At the Logans’, Jett had found a mom who’d always been willing to throw a kid a baloney sandwich and chocolate milk. At the Logans’, he found a place where he could spend the whole day down at the lake concocting a death-defying rope swing. Where he could get dirty and no one cared what his table manners were like. When he’d gotten older, he found a father who would rope him and Cole into painting a barn or a fence. Who taught them how to fix a spark plug and flush a radiator. Who would make them wake up at dawn to work the horse ranch, and taught Jett what a full day’s work meant.
When Jett met a girl he liked, he’d bring her here to dinner first. If she didn’t make the cut with the Logans, he didn’t even bother bringing her home to his parents. When Cole’s father died, Jett never saw Cole cry. But Jett had. He’d been sixteen, the same age as Cole, and when he’d heard the news, he’d driven out to the lake and wept like a baby.
When Jett had found out about Mrs. Logan’s diagnosis, he’d come right over, determined to make Cole see reason. Cole could balk all he wanted, scream about charity or not, but Jett was going to make Cole get his mom the best medical treatment money could buy. The best Avery money could buy. Their friendship had almost ended that night. It wasn’t until after a bloody lip and a few bruised ribs that Cole broke down and told him it was too late. “It’s in her bones, Jett. She’s already dead.”
He’d understood why Nikki wanted to leave. Too much pain. She’d been the sole caregiver for her mom in the last year of her life. It was enough to drive a person crazy—he guessed in a way it had. Nikki had changed after that, had gotten angrier, harder to tame. But he had just as much reason to stay. This was where his life had happened. His roots were here. Family was here. And whether Nikki realized it or not, this was where she needed to be. Here with him.
He had practiced what he was going to say. But now that he was standing there, looking down into Nikki’s face, the words deserted him.
She was a mess. Hair tangled around her face, eyes red-rimmed, face blotchy. Dressed in a tank top, cut-off sweats, and bare feet reminding him of the child she used to be, living in hand-me-downs and Goodwill clothes. Also reminding him of the seventeen-year-old girl he’d held as he whispered his heart into her ear.
And all the anger he felt broke, and got caught up in his chest. He reached out and touched her face. A stroke of her cheek, a look in her eye. “Babe.”
And that was all it took. Her face crumpled, eyes filled with tears, and then she buried her face in his shirt.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she said.
“I’m right where I need to be.”
“I don’t want you here.”
“You’re a bad liar.”
“No.” She shook her head, sniffling against his shirt. “I’m a real good liar, Jett. And that’s why you have to go.”
He stroked the top of her head, almost giddy at the feeling of her vulnerable in his arms. He took in the scent of her shampoo and closed his eyes, wanting to imprint the moment in his mind. No one but he saw Nikki like this. “Nik, you’re not making any sense.”
Her fingers fisted into his shirt, and she pushed him away. “Why? Why did you have to go and ruin it?”
“I don’t understand. Why does us loving each other have to ruin anything?”
She swiped at her cheeks with the palm of her hand. Vulnerable Nikki was gone. He could see the storm gathering in her dark blue eyes. “Do you really think this”—she pointed toward herself—“is ever going to have a happy ending? My life doesn’t work like that.”
“So what, you’re saying that you don’t want to try? Is that it? You know what your problem is, Nik? You don’t want to be happy.”
“I want to be happy.”
“Then trust me.”
“Never.”
He groaned. “Christ, Nik, we have to start somewhere.”
She shook her head. “I can try, Jett, but you’ve gotta trust me, and I don’t think you’ve heard a word I’ve said.”
He refused to accept that she was willing to throw what they had away rather than try to make it work. He wouldn’t believe it. Life had chucked a few obstacles in his path, but in the end Averys always got their way. “Hear this.”
He picked her up and slammed her against the wall. His mouth was on hers, hot and open, and he refused to accept anything but everything she had to give. She wouldn’t hold herself apart from him. He wanted all of her. She belonged with him.
She kissed him back, but it wasn’t just passion behind her kiss. There was a hunger. And a sadness so dark that for a moment he was afraid she would take him down with her. For one breath, he got what she had been saying. She believed there were forces a person couldn’t fight against. And even as strong as he was, her force was stronger. She saw herself drowning and when she did, she thought she’d take him with her.
But things weren’t going to go down like that. He wouldn’t let them. He broke away to look her in the eye. “Nik?”
He wasn’t sure what to say. He’d always known there was a dark side to her. How could there not be? Both parents dead, growing up hard, it was to be expected. But Jett had never walked that line, had never lived in that place.
“You can’t save me, Jett.”
But the Logans hadn’t cornered the market on stubbornness. “Life doesn’t have to be this way. It can be good, Nik. Give me a chance. That’s all I’m asking. What’s the worst that can happen?”
“You’d end up hating me.”
He bent his knees a little to bring himself to her eye level. “Never gonna happen.”
Tears rose in her eyes again. Fat drops swelled the reddened rims before she blinked them away. “Jett, I know things about myself. I know what I can handle, and I’ve handled a lot. But I couldn’t handle you hating me. I couldn’t wake up ten years from now to see that look in your eyes. The resentment in your face that I ruined your life.”
He shook his head. “You won’t see that. I wouldn’t do that to you. Don’t worry.”
“Do you believe me when I tell you I couldn’t handle that—you hating me? Do you believe I know what I’m talking about?”
“What I believe is that you’re scared. But I also know you are the most courageous woman I’ve ever met. I’m offering you a hand, a promise that even though I can’t face the demons for you, I can stand beside you.”
She started to cry all over again. “Your mother hates me.”
He stifled his sigh of relief. “Good thing you won’t be sleeping with my mother.”
Nikki shook her head, but an upturn of her lips broke through her tears. “Don’t throw your Avery-charm smile at me. I haven’t agreed to anything yet.”
But she would, and he found out that was all that really mattered.
The porch was empty when Katie returned. It didn’t matter. She could picture exactly what Cole was doing, in his bed, with someone else. Her imagination created the pornographic images, the ones of sweat and skin, the ones that broke her heart because it had never been her. She’d never been chosen.
Later, when she thought on it, she wouldn’t remember grabbing the baseball bat, but it was there. Strong and smooth and a tad cool, a perfect extension of her hand.
She suspected inside every human being was a secret place where dark things were born and nourished. Most people kept theirs locked down tight. But not her, not to
night. Cole’s betrayal was the sledgehammer that broke hers wide open.
In her gut she’d already decided what to do, but not until the rising moon glinted off the chrome could she have verbalized it. The deep-maroon truck appeared black in the night, along with the gleam of metal, and the wide target of headlights.
Her heart rushed to her throat as she closed the distance.
She twisted her clenched palms over the roughness of the grip tape. Squeezed and twisted again, loving the friction. She planted her feet, and swung.
Pop. Crack.
Too easy.
The next headlight shattered like the blown seeds of a dandelion in a mild breeze.
Not enough. Not nearly enough.
The bumper took a bit more. Her hands grew numb from the kickback. The side mirrors were nothing, simple obstructions to the smooth lines of the doors.
Snap.
Katie walked around to the back and smiled. There in perfect symmetry were two red, rectangle bull’s-eyes. So fragile, nothing more than plastic.
Child’s play.
She walked to the other side, and with the swing of her bat, another side mirror was gone. Katie stepped back to where she’d started, but was nowhere near done.
Suddenly, light bathed the truck, making the windshield beckon pristine as snow after a night’s storm. And like a child wanting to be the first to mark the world, Katie crawled up on top of the hood.
Was there a noise in the distance? A yell? Didn’t matter, the roar of her blood blocked all sound. Elbow, knee, knee, elbow and she stood on the hood, scrambling to find balance as her boots screeched on the metal. She hoped the scratches were deep. As destructive as his lying words when he had asked her to marry him.
Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want to say yes.
Katie swung. Spider lines splintered out in a circular web across the windshield.
