It looked as if there was something really bothering him, eating at him under the surface, but he wouldn’t say. I didn’t know him well enough to ask, so I climbed out of bed.
“Do you want me to be mean or nice?” I asked.
He didn’t reply, yet he dug his hands into the side of the mattress and kept tapping his feet. Now the taps didn’t seem nervous.
Mean it was.
When I woke up the next morning, the house was empty. I brushed my teeth, wondering if my interaction with Ian last night had been real or only a weird dream. Moving to the kitchen, I glanced out of the window to the backyard, where I saw Ian chopping away at pieces of lumber. His white shirt wasn’t on his body but was tucked into the side of his jeans as he swung the ax through a piece of wood.
His arms were muscular and tan, as if he worked most days in the sun. I grabbed myself a cup of water and went out on the small back porch. There was a porch swing that I gladly sat on, still in my footed pajamas. I swung back and forth, and I watched his body react to the sound of the swing squeaking as it swayed with me on it. He knew I was there, but he didn’t turn my way.
After opening and closing my mouth a few times, I finally built up the nerve to ask him a question. “Do you want to talk about last night?”
He swung the ax up and then snapped another piece of wood in half. “Nope.”
He still hadn’t turned to look at me.
I wished I could crawl into Ian’s head and see what he was thinking. Even though he and I joked a lot about him sleeping around, I knew that his issues were much deeper than he let on. I should’ve let him be, allowed him to have his alone time, but something in my heart was telling me to not leave. Something in my heart was asking me to stay.
“You don’t have to be so closed off all the time.”
“I know, but I want to be.”
“Nobody wants to be closed off.”
“I do.”
“Why?”
“Stop pushing,” he ordered, slicing into a piece of wood, but I couldn’t help it. I had a feeling that most people other than his grandparents didn’t push Ian in any way, shape, or form.
“I’ll stop pushing once you open up.”
“Well, you’ll probably be here forever.”
“I don’t work today, so that’s fine.”
He sighed as he hefted the ax and slammed it into the piece of wood in front of him. “Dammit, Hazel. What the hell is wrong with you? Why can’t you just leave me be?”
“Because you want to be more.” I shrugged. “And last night something happened to you when you asked me to get rid of that woman. Something ate at you deep down inside, and I’m just letting you know you don’t have to keep it to yourself. I grew up keeping things to myself. I know how hard and heavy that can be on one’s chest.”
“Yeah, well, you and me aren’t the same.”
That was the truest statement ever spoken.
I stood from the porch swing and nodded once. “Okay. Fine. Be that way. But don’t blame me when it all becomes too much for you.”
“What makes you think it will become too much?”
“It always becomes too much, until your emotions go into overdrive and you break down.”
He huffed. “Personal experience?”
“Something like that.”
I turned around to walk inside and paused when I heard Ian release the most dramatic sigh in the history of sighs. “She brought up my damn parents. Called them junkies and went on and on about them as if she knew them. It takes a lot to get under my skin—like you said, I have brick walls built—but the comments about my parents always get to me.”
Looking back toward him, I saw the heaviness in his eyes as he rested his hands on the handle of the ax. “And why’s that?”
“Because the comments always seem to be true. My parents were junkies. My parents did abandon me. My parents did choose their fucked-up habit over their own child. They left this place and left their kid with his own set of fucked-up issues. Okay? That’s why it bothers me.”
My chest tightened listening to Ian talk about his parents. I knew there was a drug problem in Eres, and I knew a lot of that problem was caused by one man in particular. “Was Charlie their dealer?” I asked, the words stinging as they fell from my tongue.
He brushed a thumb against the bridge of his nose and nodded. “Yes.”
“And that’s why you hate me?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I don’t know you enough to hate you. I just don’t like what you stand for—the memory of what happened to my parents.”
I understood that concept. Maybe more than he could’ve imagined. “I don’t like what I stand for either.”
“What do you mean?”
“I also lost a parent at the hand of Charlie. It’s because of him I was living in that shed. My mama kicked me out because he wanted me gone, and if it weren’t for her drug habit, I doubt she would’ve done that. She used to be my best friend, but drugs had a way of changing that. I wished I hadn’t known her before the drugs because it just . . .” I sighed as my words fumbled away. I wasn’t even sure how to explain it, but Ian seemed to understand.
“It just makes it harder, remembering a time when drugs weren’t an issue,” he finished for me.
“Yes. Exactly.”
He started swinging the ax again, huffing and puffing as he spoke. “It pisses me off,” he confessed. “How parents could just allow something like drugs to separate them from their children.”
I looked at Ian—really looked at him—and saw the broken kid that lived in his anger. There was something so raw and real about how he chopped the wood, swinging that ax with all the pent-up aggression in him.
I walked into the house and came back outside with a pen and paper in my hand. I took my seat back on the porch swing and gave the sweaty, exhausted man a smile. “Okay, let’s do it.”
“Let’s do what?”
“Use your anger to create music.”
He grumbled a bit as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not interested.”
Before I could reply, he walked off, leaving me looking like a silly girl who’d wanted to break down the wall made of stone.
8
HAZEL
It’d been four weeks since Mama and Charlie had kicked me out, and I hadn’t been able to really come to grips with it all. Each day, I still worried about Mama’s health and well-being. Each day, I thought about her and prayed that she was okay. When it all became too heavy on my heart, I headed for their house to check in on how she was doing after I finished my work shift.
I knew there would be hell to pay if Charlie caught me stopping by, but I didn’t care.
I showed up with groceries for Mama’s fridge, and when I knocked on the door, I heard her shuffling around.
“Who is it?” she called out.
“It’s me, Mama. It’s Hazel.”
The movements sounded more hurried, and when she opened the door, I gasped at the sight of her. The groceries in my hand crashed to the ground as I stepped forward. “Mama! What happened to you?” I breathed out, taking in her battered and bruised face. Her left eye was almost sealed shut, and her wrists were black and blue.
“Don’t make a fuss,” she warned, waving me off. “Charlie and I just got into an altercation. I made a mistake with his business, and I should’ve done better.”
“What? No,” I said, barging into the house. “No matter the issue, he has no right to put his hands on you, Mama. It’s not right, and we really should get you checked out. Let me take you to the hospital.”
She shook her head. “No. I’m not going to the hospital. I’m fine.”
“We need to make sure the baby is okay, though, Mama. Please.”
She lowered her head, and I saw the hurting in her heart. There was a struggle going on in her head. I couldn’t imagine what was going through her mind, though. Every now and again, I saw flashes of regret in her eyes that matched mine. My mother had live
d a life of struggles, and I saw her battling against her pain every single time she blinked.
“I don’t have that kind of money for a doctor appointment . . . ,” she started. “I ain’t got no insurance, and Charlie will be upset if a bill comes through for it.”
“I’ll cover the cost. Really, Mama. Let me help you.”
She was seconds away from agreeing. Seconds away from doing the right thing for her and for the baby, but before she could speak, Charlie walked up behind me. I turned to see his eyes widen when he saw me, and he then glared at Mama.
“What the hell is going on here?” he barked.
“I’m taking Mama out for a little bit,” I said, trying my best to not showcase the fear that sat in my throat. Sure, Charlie didn’t look like a threatening man, but I knew the harshness that lived inside him. It wasn’t the first time I’d noticed Mama’s body being bruised at the hands of Charlie, but I’d figured ever since she got pregnant, he wouldn’t hurt her.
I’d been too hopeful believing that Charlie was not the biggest monster.
“Where?” he demanded. “You shouldn’t even be here.”
“I’m allowed to see my mother,” I shot back. “Come on, Mama. Get your things, and let’s go.”
“She isn’t going anywhere with you. Go ahead and make me a pizza, Jean,” he ordered Mama, which made my irritation skyrocket.
“She’s hurt,” I scolded. “I’m taking her to get checked out.”
He cocked an eyebrow and looked at Mama. “You going to a hospital?” he asked, his words low and controlling. “What the hell you going to do, Jean? Turn me in? Say I hurt you?”
She hesitated as she fidgeted with her fingers, looking down at the floor. “Of course not, Charlie.”
“Because I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
The way his words slithered off his tongue made the hairs on my skin stand straight up. Gosh, I hated him so much and despised how he used his authority to control Mama’s thoughts.
“No, you didn’t,” she lied. She blinked her eyes shut and shook her head back and forth. “I tripped. You know I’m clumsy, Hazel.”
No, Mama.
Don’t let him control you like this.
“Even still, you should get checked out because of the baby,” I offered, trying to tame the anger rushing through me. I needed to get her out of there. Out of that house, out from under Charlie’s control. Because I knew if she stayed any longer, she’d end up six feet under due to him taking it one step too far.
Maybe if we ran away together, she’d be able to get her mind clear again. Maybe she’d realize that we didn’t need Charlie. That we were better without him, that—
“She’s not going anywhere,” Charlie cut in. “The baby’s fine, and so is she. And you are not welcome here anymore. So get out.”
I stepped toward my mother, guarding her from Charlie. “I’m not leaving without taking her with me.”
He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and stepped toward me. “Get out, Hazel.”
“No,” I sternly stated. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He grabbed me by the arm and started dragging me toward the front door. For a small-looking guy, his grip hurt.
“Let me go!” I shouted. I tripped over my feet as he yanked me, and the second I found my footing, I shoved hard against his chest, making him stumble backward.
Before any thought, I felt the sting of his fist slamming against my face. I fell straight to the ground.
Holy crap.
The stinging sensation that overtook me made me want to vomit. He hadn’t just slapped me; he’d punched me. He’d sent me flying backward and crashing to the floor as if he hadn’t a care in the world for his actions. Was that what he did to Mama? Did he punch her repeatedly like she was a rag doll and not a person?
My head began pounding, and tears fell from my eyes as the pain engulfed my entire system. I went to stand, but Charlie came barging toward me, and he shoved me back down.
“I told you to fucking leave,” he hissed, his voice dripping with hatred.
“Fuck you,” I cried.
He raised his fist to hit me again, but Mama rushed in and took his hand into hers. “Stop, Charlie. Please. She gets it. She’s leaving and never coming back,” she swore.
I stumbled to my feet as my right eye stayed closed. Wetness dripped from my face as I wiped it. Is that blood? Charlie’s ring must’ve sliced into my skin.
“Right, Hazel?” Mama asked, looking at me with wide eyes filled with fear. She lived with that fear on a daily basis.
“Come with me, Mama,” I begged, my chest rising and falling at erratic speeds.
“Again, she’s not going anywhere. Now, leave before I take it out on the both of you,” Charlie said.
It was clear he was a psychopath. He didn’t have a twinge of remorse for his actions—quite the opposite actually. He looked as if he was ready to give me another blow any second now.
“Go, Hazel,” Mama begged, tears welling in her eyes. “Please.”
I wanted to argue, but I knew if I pushed Charlie, he’d push both me and Mama back. I couldn’t handle the idea of him hurting Mama, so I left.
The ache in my chest had me feeling nothing but guilt for leaving her in that terrible situation. For a moment in time, when she’d grabbed Charlie’s arm, I’d seen my mother. My real mother, not the drugged-up human she’d turned into over the years. She’d stepped in to protect me, and it killed my heart that there was no one to protect her back.
I headed to Ian’s house, and as I walked, I tried my best to keep my head down and covered. A car horn blared at me, sending nerves straight up my spine. I kept my head down and kept walking. “Hazel!” a voice hollered from the car. I still didn’t look up. “Hey, Hazel, it’s Leah. James Scout’s sister. He works on the ranch, and I’m heading over there to check in on the horses. Are you heading that way? I can give you a lift.”
She pulled her car over, parked it, and hurried over to me. I’d known Leah for some time now. We’d graduated together, and she was the definition of royalty in our town. Leah Scout was beautiful. From her gorgeous blonde hair to her crystal-blue eyes. She had a smile that could’ve been used in toothpaste commercials, and she gave that smile to everyone who looked her way. She was just like her older brother, James, too—overly nice to anyone and everyone.
As she reached me, she gasped and placed her hands over her mouth. “Oh my goodness, what happened to you?”
“I, um, I don’t want to talk about it.” I started to walk, and Leah kept her pace beside me.
“Wait, Hazel. Who did this to you?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I replied shortly. “I just want to get home and clean up.”
“Okay.” She nodded her head and linked her arm with mine.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m walking you to my car so I can drive you home. You shouldn’t be walking on these streets looking like this, and you definitely shouldn’t be alone. James said you’re staying with Ian for now, right?”
I nodded. “Yes. But you don’t—”
“Don’t be silly, Hazel. Us girls gotta look out for one another in a town filled with creeps. It’s not a big deal. Come on, now. Let’s get you home so we can clean up that wound.”
When we got to the ranch house, I tried to get Leah to go on with her day, but she wouldn’t leave my side.
“You can’t go without cleaning up that eye. Otherwise, it will be swollen shut for a while. I volunteer at Dr. Smith’s office. I can help you,” she offered.
I didn’t have the energy to fight her to go away. Plus, some odd part of me didn’t want to be left alone.
I sat on the edge of my bed as Leah headed to the kitchen to get a wet cloth and ice for my eye. When she came back, she sat beside me and did her best to nurse me back to good health.
“Who did this, Hazel?” she whispered.
I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Of cour
se it does. People shouldn’t be allowed to hurt you like this. They should pay for their actions.”
I gave her a lopsided smile and remained quiet. I didn’t need strangers knowing too much about my personal life. Even though Leah was nice, I hadn’t the need to lay all of my hardships at her feet.
“I’m really okay,” I lied.
She gave me a knowing smile. Then she frowned and shook her head. “Ian is going to lose his mind once he finds out.”
I raised an eyebrow. “That’s not very likely.”
“Are you kidding? Of course it is. You’re his roommate, and someone hurt you. He’s going to care about it.”
I snickered. “We really aren’t that kind of roommates. We pretty much stay out of each other’s way, unless he needs me to kick a random girl out at three in the morning.”
Leah brushed her hand against her face. “I don’t know, Hazel. This kind of stuff gets to Ian. His dad used to lay his hands on his mom before they left all those years ago, and it drove Ian crazy. He doesn’t take well to women being abused.”
Abused.
I didn’t know why that word made me want to throw up. That word made Charlie’s actions seem even more intense, but it was true. He did abuse me. He abused my mother. And I knew he wouldn’t stop, because when it came to Charlie, abuse was second nature.
“Listen, I know Ian is hard around the edges, but he’s really a good guy. I’ve known him all my life, seeing as how he’s best friends with my brother. When his parents ran off, it did a number on him, but that kindhearted boy is still there.”
“He’s cold all the time. He doesn’t have feelings.”
Leah laughed out loud. “That’s ridiculous. If anything, Ian Parker feels too much. That man has more feelings than most people in this world. He gets so overwhelmed by his emotions that he puts up that wall. But man, he cares. He cares so much that I think it drives him crazy.”
I lowered my head for a minute and held the towel with ice against my face. I wasn’t certain what else to say to Leah, so I shrugged my shoulders and gave her a small smile. “I’m getting a bit of a headache. I think I’m going to rest for a little while.”
The Wreckage of Us Page 8
