“Are you the type of person to wish on stars?”
“I’m the type of person to wish on everything.” She tilted her head toward me. “Does it always feel this good? Being drunk?”
“Depends. I can’t drink whiskey, because it makes me sad.”
“What the heck do you have to be sad about? You sing like a god, you live rent-free, and your grandparents are freaking amazing! Plus, you’re H-A-W-T. Hawt. Like, if I didn’t know how many women you’ve put your penis in, I’d think about you putting your penis in me, too, you know, if I let people put penises in me.”
The words tumbled off her tongue with such ease, and I knew if she were sober, she’d kick herself for saying those things out loud.
Didn’t mean I couldn’t have some fun with it.
“Oh. You think I’m H-A-W-T?” I asked.
“Yes, I do. If I had a lady boner, it would be erected all day every day when I’m around you. Even when you’re mean to me.”
I frowned. “I’m sorry I’ve been mean to you, Haze.” The more I watched her in her drunken state, the more guilt hit me for being so closed off toward her.
“It’s okay. I’m used to people being mean to me.”
That made me feel like complete shit. I brushed my thumb against my nose and moved in closer to her.
“What are you doing?” she nervously asked.
“Checking your bruise. May I?” I asked, my hand hovering in the air.
She nodded slowly.
My fingers landed against her cheek, and she didn’t flinch from the touch. She just kept humming to herself.
“Does that hurt?”
She shook her head. “I don’t feel anything but good.”
“Another side effect of booze.”
“Why were you so mean to me?” she asked, her green eyes piercing me.
“Because I’m an idiot,” I confessed. “I have a few issues with your stepfather.”
Her fingers moved over the top of mine, which were still resting against her cheek, and she closed her eyes. “He’s no father of mine.”
“Did he do this to you?” I whispered, a little too afraid to say it any louder. I didn’t know why, but the idea of Charlie hurting Hazel made me want to vomit.
She nodded slowly. “He’s a monster.”
“I know.”
And I was going to kill him.
“Mama’s bruises are worse,” she softly said as she raked her hand through her charcoal-colored hair. “She has no escape from him, and he hurts her a lot more than he has ever hurt me.”
“Why won’t she leave him?”
“She’s tried, time and time again. He always finds her and pulls her back in.” Tears fell down her cheeks, and she shook her head as I wiped them away. “Can vodka make you both happy and sad?”
“It’s possible.”
“But I don’t want to be sad anymore. I want to be happy.”
“You will be,” I promised. “Sometimes it just takes time to get to the happy lyrics.”
“When are you going to write happy lyrics?”
I pushed out a chuckle. “I’m actually looking to hire a girl to help me on the lyrics end.”
She pushed her tongue in her cheek and narrowed her eyes. “I bet she’s really cute.”
“She has no clue how beautiful she is,” I gently replied. “With and without the makeup.”
She sat up a little straighter, seemingly surprised by my words. “Thank you.”
“Can I ask why you wear so much makeup?”
Hazel raked her hands through her hair again and shrugged her shoulders. “That’s because of Charlie too. When I was younger, around fourteen, I used to always wear a tank top and shorts around the house. One night, when Charlie was drunk, he stumbled into my bedroom and made comments about how he wanted to touch my body. About how I was showing it off for him with my olive skin. So I started dressing in heavy layers of clothing and makeup to ward him off.”
I felt sick to my stomach as she told me that. What kind of fucking psychopath was Charlie? If I’d had plans to kill him before, now I was raging with the need to strangle the bastard.
Such a softness fell over her as she looked my way. “Ian?”
“Yeah?”
“Drunk Hazel likes you a lot.”
I snickered. “Let’s work on getting sober Hazel to like me too.”
“That’s easy enough.” She yawned in my face, not bothering to cover her mouth. “Just say hi to me sometimes, and it helps if you take off your shirt too.”
Dammit to hell. How had I treated someone like Hazel so shitty for so long? If I’d pulled my head out of my own ass, I would’ve realized that there was nothing about her that mimicked Charlie. She was the complete opposite, actually. She was caring and funny and beautiful and kind.
Christ. What a fucking idiot I was.
“Hey, Ian?”
“Yes?”
“I’m going to vomit now.”
I’d spent the last ten minutes holding Hazel’s hair back as she upchucked into the toilet. As she murmured about how she was never drinking again, I smiled to myself, thinking about all the crappy drinking nights I’d had where I’d said those same exact words.
When she finished her violent attack on the toilet, she lay down on the ground and curled into the fetal position. “I sleep here,” she mumbled.
I chuckled as I bent down to lift her in my arms. “No, you sleep in your bed.”
“I sleep in your bed,” she echoed, snuggling into my arms.
Not exactly right.
After I laid her down—in her bed—I placed a puke bucket on the floor, just in case, and then I tucked her in.
She reached her arms up and wrapped them around my neck, pulling me into a hug. “Thank you, best friend,” she whispered, before plopping back down against her pillow. As I turned to walk away, Hazel murmured some more. “I have to help her.”
“Help who?”
“Mama. I have to get her and the baby out of there. I have to help,” she said with her eyes shut as she began to fall into a deep slumber.
I wasn’t sure she knew what she was saying, but I said, “I’ll help you help her, Haze.”
“Promise?” she whispered.
“Promise,” I replied.
10
HAZEL
What was that excruciating sound?
Was it a rooster? Was a rooster honestly screaming outside my window as my head pounded as if it were going to explode?
Why did my mouth feel so dry?
Why did I feel like death?
“Cock-a-doodle-doooo!” Mr. Rooster shouted, making me push a pillow over my face. I hated how awake and happy the guy was, as if he hadn’t drunk all the vodka in the land the night before.
Vodka.
Ugh. Screw vodka.
My eyes warily opened as I sat up on my elbows. I groaned as my stomach flipped, skipped, and turned. Just then, the painful sound of the doorbell ringing went off. When it kept dinging, I dragged myself from my room to answer it, seeing as how Ian hadn’t any plans of getting to the door.
I swung it open as the sunlight beamed toward me. I’d never felt more like a vampire in my life, and when I noticed a woman standing there with a basket of goodies, I instantly felt bad for hissing in her face.
She didn’t frown at my insane reaction to the light, though. She smiled brightly and tilted her head to the left. “I’ve been meaning to stop by to meet you,” she said, walking into the house. She set the basket of things down on the table and then turned back to me and held her hand out for a shake. “You must be Hazel. I’m Holly, Ian’s grandmother.”
The woman I’d just hissed at was Ian’s grandmother.
What a great first impression.
I brushed my hand across my face and cringed a bit when I hit the bruise. I’d forgotten that was there, and now Holly was staring at me and my massively bruised skin. I held my hand out and shook hers.
“Sorry, I’m just waking up. No
rmally I’m better at first impressions.” I smoothed my hands over my pajamas—pajamas I hadn’t recalled putting on—and gave her a tight smile.
“Oh, honey, don’t worry about it. You look beautiful.” She smiled so brightly I couldn’t help but smile too. I’d never seen such a genuine expression in all my life.
Holly was so beautiful in an effortless way. She had long silvery hair that was pulled back into a ponytail and eyes that matched Ian’s. Though she was much shorter than Big Paw, she held her head high. She was slender and stood up straighter than most people my age.
If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve assumed she was in her late sixties—not eighties.
“If you’re looking for Ian, it seems he’s not here, or maybe not up yet,” I told her.
She shook her head. “Oh no. I know that. He’s the one who called me. He’s working at the ranch already and—”
My eyes widened in pure panic. “Oh my gosh, what time is it? I’m supposed to be at the ranch working!” I knew if Big Paw found out that I was late, I’d be out of a job in a heartbeat. “I’m sorry, Holly, I have to get going to—”
She placed a hand on my arm and shook her head. “No, it’s fine. Ian said you weren’t feeling well today, so he’s taking over your tasks.”
A ripple of relief and shock raced through my system. “Is he upset? That he has to take on those tasks?”
“Lord, no. He actually sent me over to check on you and make sure you had some food to eat and some coffee to drink.” She raised an eyebrow. “You do drink coffee, right?”
I smiled, feeling relief fall over me as my anxiety was replaced with comfort. “All the coffee.”
“Good.” Holly walked over to her basket, pulled out a few ibuprofen and a water bottle, and handed them my way. “Now take these and shower up, and by the time you’re done, I’ll have some breakfast ready for you.”
I thanked her for her kindness and headed off to hop in the shower.
I understood why people drank to forget. Last night, I’d felt free from the burden of Mama’s struggles for a split second. I needed that break to stop feeling everything so strongly. But unluckily, I wasn’t one of those humans who forgot everything that happened when they drank.
Nope. I remembered it all.
Especially the parts where I’d called Ian “H-A-W-T” and talked about the lady boner I had for him. Gosh. The next time I saw him, I was certain I’d be fifty shades of red from humiliation.
After my shower, I considered putting on makeup to cover my bruise, but since Holly had already noticed it, I didn’t see much reason to do it.
The house smelled heavenly, as if a Top Chef had come in all on their own to cook up a meal for me. As I walked into the dining room, I found Holly setting up two plates that were filled with bacon, eggs, and home-style potatoes. My coffee cup was filled to the brim, and my stomach started doing somersaults of excitement.
“This looks and smells amazing,” I commented as I took my seat.
She smiled as she slid into hers. “The best cure for a hangover is homemade cooking,” she exclaimed. “I’ve had to cook plenty of these meals for Ian and his best friends throughout the years.”
“He’s lucky to have you.”
“I’m lucky to have him. He and Harry are my two biggest headaches. Lord only knows how I’ve dealt with their grumpy exteriors, but deep down inside, those two are teddy bears. They build up walls to avoid getting hurt; that’s for sure. I’m one of the lucky few who they’ve let see their gentle sides.”
“So I shouldn’t take their grumpy sides personal?”
“Heavens, no. It’s just their wall of protection from getting hurt. After my daughter and son-in-law left, both Harry and Ian struggled. Having someone so important to them leave without a goodbye really damaged their hearts. My boys are sensitive. More than most people. They are terrified of being hurt, so they pretend that nothing stings them.”
“That has to be lonely.”
“Yes.” She nodded. “I worry more about Ian. He’s so closed off and doesn’t let anyone in close enough to show him any kind of comfort—outside of his bandmates. But then he played me your song, and I saw a spark inside of him that I haven’t seen in a while.”
“What do you mean? What do you mean, he played you my song?”
“The one you helped him write. He came over and played it for Harry and me, and we were blown away. I hadn’t seen him that invested in his music in so long, and those lyrics . . .” She pressed her hands to her chest and shook her head in amazement. “I haven’t heard my grandson sing such beautiful words in all my life. So thank you for that.”
“For what?”
“Helping him find his voice. He’s been searching for years, and for the first time ever, it seems he’s on to something, and I think it has a lot to do with you. You’re truly gifted at the written word.”
I felt my face grow flushed, and I wiggled around in my chair. “He’s an amazing singer on his own,” I said.
“Yes.” She reached out and placed her hand on top of mine. “But what’s a singer without beautiful words to sing? All I’m saying is you’re good for him, even if he pretends that you’re not. Plus, I think he cares about you, too, just from what he said when he called to ask me to stop by.”
“What did he say?”
“To make sure you’re okay. That he needed you to be okay.”
And just like that, my heart skipped a beat from Ian Parker’s words.
Holly leaned forward and placed her hands against my bruised face. “Who hurt you, sweetheart?”
I closed my eyes and took in a sharp breath. “Charlie, my mother’s boyfriend.”
“Does it hurt?”
“The bruise? A little less than before.”
“No. Your soul. Does it hurt? Does it ache?”
I swallowed hard. “Yes.”
She wiped away a fallen tear from my eye before smiling that kind smile my way. “My boyfriend before Harry used to use his hands against me. He’d bruise me in places where people couldn’t see for a long time. From the outside, we looked happy. On the inside, I was dying. It wasn’t until he left a big mark against my face that I knew I needed to stop the cycle of abuse. I felt humiliated. I wore so much makeup to try to hide the bruises; then I found a way to leave. Over time, the outer bruises healed, but the bruises on my soul took a lot longer. Then, when I found out my daughter’s husband was doing the same to her, it broke my heart. No real man would ever lay a hand on a woman, except to show her his love. I hate that someone did that to you. I hate that someone hurt you.”
“I worry so much about my mother,” I whispered, my voice shaking. “She has so many bruises, both inside and out, and I don’t see them ever healing with her so wrapped around Charlie’s finger. He’s so abusive toward her, and I hate it. I hate how he hurts her, and I hate how she stays. I hate how she falls into drugs to cover her pain. We’ve almost gotten away so many times, but she always finds her way back to his toxic ways. I hate that she’s so weak.”
“No, no, no. She’s lost, not weak. I’ve watched the drugs take over my Sarah; I watched how they changed her into someone that she wasn’t. Your mother’s mind is lost, and Charlie is using that fact to control her.”
“What if she never finds her way home again?”
“We don’t give up on people finding their way home. It’s been years since my daughter and Brad ran off together, but you know what? Each night, I keep the porch light on, just in case they find their way home again. And I’d welcome them with arms wide open. You know why?”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I’ve been lost before. Just because I didn’t fall into drugs or anything, that doesn’t mean I’m any better than them. Everyone deserves a home to find their way to at some point in their lives. It might not happen as soon as you’d like it to, but if their hearts are still beating, there’s a chance it could happen.”
“What do we do in the meantime?” I ask
ed.
“Well, sweetheart, we pray for the lost ones.” She gave me a tight smile. “And we leave the light on at night.”
She cupped my face in her hands and kept grinning. Gosh, I’d never known a smile could heal until Holly looked my way. “But please know this. If Charlie ever lays a hand on you again, that will be the end of his life.”
I chuckled and wiped my last falling tears away. “Why’s that? Are you going to fight him?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Those were Ian’s words, not mine. He said if Charlie came near you ever again, he wouldn’t live long enough to regret his actions.”
Ian Parker was standing up for me, and that was enough to make the ache in my head slowly begin to fade.
“You covered for me today,” I said as Ian walked through the front door after a long day at work. I knew he’d had a long day, because I knew the tasks that were on my to-do list.
“I did,” he replied, rubbing the back of his hand against his forehead. He looked burned out and exhausted.
I gave him a smile. “I owe you.”
“Well, actually, I owed you—for helping with the song a few days back. Even though you were sassy about it, you helped me a lot.”
“It was mostly you to begin with. I just helped where I could.”
“You changed it for the better, which brings me to the next issue at hand—and trust me, it pains me to say this: you were right.”
“I was right about what?”
“Me having a wall and needing to break through it in order to tap into my emotions better for my music. The guys agreed after hearing the song.”
A sly smile found my lips. “You performed the new song for your band?”
“Yes. They all loved it. So I need you to help me.”
“Help you?”
He nodded. “I need you to help me create more music. Look, I know I’m an ass, and I’ve been an ass toward you from the jump, but hell . . . I’ll do anything to have you help me with this emotions shit, because I don’t get it, and it seems that you do.”
My eyes narrowed as I crossed my arms. “And what do I get out of this deal?”
The Wreckage of Us Page 10
