It’s memories like that, that I’ve kept locked away because they were too painful to recall after she left me, and eventually, I stopped thinking about them at all.
All this time, I’ve wondered who my real father was. I cast him out, thinking he was no better than Saw because he didn’t want me.
That wasn’t the truth.
He never knew I existed.
I wonder what kind of life I would have had with him. Would I have seen the country riding around in his 18-wheeler?
Would we have pictures and memories that I would always look back on with a cheesy smile?
Just another thing Bethany robbed me of.
I can’t stand the sight of her. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to. She stole so much from me. She hurt me worse than anyone ever could.
Bryce speaks to me so gently it aches my heart. How he cares for me is beautifully odd. I’ve never felt this kind of affection before, and I’m not sure what to do with it.
He doesn’t even know my story, and yet he’s already decided he loves me anyway.
I blink over to him, swallowing at the sight of how gorgeous he is. In a simple white T-shirt, black jogging pants, and so, so much feeling in his blues.
Blues that I’ve seen in different moods. Guarded, angry, curious, lust-filled, and now love.
Love is my favorite.
Hands down.
I look at the washcloth in my hands, my nervous system tingling at the idea of talking to someone about my past. My palms begin to sweat and my spine prickles. All these years I’ve kept the horrific nightmares I lived to myself. I put them in my filing cabinet and locked the door, but my past has clashed with my future.
My eyes go back to the window and I rub my chin across the cotton of his T-shirt. At least I hope he’s my future. Our relationship has been pretty rocky lately. The heroin use, the girl I saw him with, and, of course, his mom’s overdose.
I have so many things running through my mind it’s overwhelming. Part of me just wants to sleep and forget, but that’s never helped me.
Forgetting and not talking about all of this isn’t the answer this time.
Maybe it never was.
Inhaling, I focus my eyes on the snowflakes falling outside the frosty window and I begin to speak.
I tell him memories that I have of her when I was little. I tell him about Saw’s abuse toward her, and then I tell him how I woke up one day and she was no longer there.
I fill him in on the heroin dealing that I’m sure was going on long before I realized it. When Bethany was there, I didn’t really know, but when she left, he didn’t hide anything.
I tell him how Saw used to speak to me and tell me I was nothing, and then the hard part comes.
The part that I put so far down inside myself, hoping it would dissolve and become dust. I tell Bryce about the sexual abuse. The taking of my innocence. The fighting to keep Saw away from me.
I fill him in on how I used to sleep outside in the field under a blanket of stars, how I knew Mills, about the money I buried, and the moment I walked out of that house. Bryce gives a small smile when I inform him that Claire and my old friend Lucy, who passed a few years back, helped me create a new life for myself.
By the end of it all, the sun has faded in the gray sky, the storm has halted, and my voice is raw. My eyes are puffy from the tears I’ve cried, and my body is spent from finally telling my truth.
“So, you see why I am the way I am now. The mystery of me isn’t really a mystery at all. It’s just a dark, sick past that I lived and wished I didn’t.”
I look over at him, and what I feared is not there.
Sympathy.
Pity.
None of it.
My heart flutters and my eyes water more.
My blue-eyed boy looks at me with love and adoration. He looks at me as though I’ve fought a hard battle and won.
And as I think about everything I’ve been through and where I am now, I believe he’s right.
I have won.
Chapter Ten
Bryce
Nothing could have prepared me for the heat of anger I feel inside of my chest. It twists with veins, snapping blood vessels while roping around my bones. It mingles with nerve fibers, snaking its way to my diaphragm before dipping into my soul.
That motherfucker.
That better-be-glad-he-is-dead motherfucker.
I try to keep this anger caged, because I realize this isn’t about how I feel.
This is hard as shit for Kat to talk about, and if she’s anything like me, which she is, then she doesn’t want pity.
Fuck pity.
We’ve been through what we’ve been through, but we’ve never asked anyone to feel sorry for us. It’s one of the main reasons we don’t talk about it.
She looks so strong to me. Even crying and being completely worn out, she’s so damn strong. I’m in awe of her. Keeping all of this to yourself for so many years would drive someone into the ground, but not Kat.
Not the woman I love.
And I now know why I’ve never loved anyone else.
We’re made from the same shit, cut from the same star. We’re meant to be. It was always supposed to be this way.
Her wet lashes web onto her rosy cheeks and her lips look fuller from crying. I want to kiss her, but this isn’t the time.
“I love you,” I say to her, my own voice hoarse from the raw emotion I’m feeling. I lift her hand and bring it to my lips, kissing her knuckles and looking into her eyes.
She’ll never know how much it means to me that she’s finally told me about her childhood. It means she trusts me, and even though she hasn’t told me, I’m pretty sure it means she loves me, too.
She rubs her face and exhales softly. I drop her hand and stand up, needing to get a grip on my feelings. I want to punch something,
“Are you hungry?” I ask her.
She shakes her head no.
“Do you want a drink? Or…” I scratch my head, trying to think of anything she may want or need.
“No, Bryce.” She pulls a hair tie off her wrist and wraps her wet locks into a messy bun. “I’m just ready for bed.”
I nod in understanding. “Okay, well, let’s go to bed.” She stands up, walking back into the bathroom, and I remove the top comforter, tossing it onto the chair in the corner. I pull back the sheets and the soft blanket.
Thankfully, the heat works in here, so we won’t freeze in the night with only a blanket. Kat walks back out of the bathroom, pulling my T-shirt down, and I see she’s put on some underwear.
I sit back down on the bed as she walks over to the other side. She climbs in and sighs. “I’m so ready to get out of this fucking town.”
I laugh. “Me, too.”
She looks over at me as I lie back. She blinks, looking curious.
“What, baby?” I ask, knowing there’s a question on the tip of her tongue.
“Earlier, you told Mills you’d eaten at the diner I used to work at. How?”
I look up at the ceiling, remembering that, and then it hits me. She grew up here. Her stepdad sold heroin. I sit up and look back at her.
“What?” she asks, sitting up, too.
There’s no way.
I shake my head.
No fucking way.
“Where did you live?” I ask.
“Huh?” She looks confused.
“Where was your house?”
“Just a few miles from here. Past the county line.”
I get off the bed and pace the room.
“Bryce, what is going on? You’re scaring me.”
“You couldn’t have been older than Jace,” I say to myself, looking down at the floor. I could have saved her then. I could have gone into that house and taken her, and she wouldn’t have had to go through any of that.
She stands up. “What do you mean? What are you talking about?”
There’s no telling what was going on. She had to have seen so much shit. She
was probably confused and scared. She was sad. I remember how sad she looked. My heart rips in two, knowing I could have done something.
I rake my hands over my head, linking my fingers and resting them there as my eyes begin to water with sorrow.
“Bryce, talk to me. What the hell are you thinking?”
I look down at her. “Your house. Your stepdad. I think that’s where we left from before we got into the car wreck and my dad died.”
Her eyes grow wide. “What?” She covers her mouth as everything starts to click in place. She looks to the floor, skimming over the carpet.
“Oh my God,” she says. “Your mom.”
“My mom what?” I ask.
“I remember her, Bryce.” Her eyes bounce back to mine. “I remember you.”
I shake my head slightly at all of this as I bring in a deep breath.
How could this be?
How, after all these years we found each other.
I walk over to her and grab her in my arms. “I should have taken you away from there. None of this would have happened to you.”
She wraps her arms around my back. “You were just a boy. Don’t put that on yourself.”
I kiss her hair and breathe in. She smells like hotel shampoo and home.
She’s my fucking home.
I hold her tighter, so grateful to have her in my life. She went through so much, and yet here she is comforting me.
“I would kill that man if he wasn’t already dead.” I pull away and put my finger under her chin so I can see her. “I would make him suffer, K.”
She swallows and nods slightly, searching my eyes with hers. “I know.”
And I believe her, but I don’t think she realizes just how much I would enjoy killing the bastard. Sometimes I think there’s a monster inside of me. I can feel him when I’m hitting the punching bag.
He wants me to beat the shit out of something.
He wants to fight and cause pain.
I’m angry because of what I had to see growing up. The people I had to live with and the situation they put me in. Having to raise my brother, the drugs, and the fighting. Then losing my dad in a car crash that my mother caused.
Kat is closed off emotionally, untrusting, and has a hard time talking about the things she’s been through. And it’s because of her mother leaving her and her stepdad’s abuse.
We are the aftermath of their bad choices.
We are the rubble left behind from their shit storm.
I look down at her lips, and without overthinking it, I kiss her. I kiss her hard and deep, tasting her tongue and pressing closer to her body. My hand goes into her hair and my fingers grip onto her scalp.
A fire lights inside of me, burning red and smoky black. I reach down and lift her up. Her legs wrap around my waist as I walk us to the bed. My cock hardens and I ache to be inside of her, feeling her warmth and having her smell and body surround me.
She’s a little bit of Heaven on this sometimes hellish planet. She’s wiggled her way into my lonely life, and there’s no way I could live without her now.
But has she always been there?
Somewhere deep inside was I always waiting for her?
I lay her down and my lips leave hers, migrating down her soft neck.
“Bryce,” she says lowly. “I…I can’t do this.”
I quickly look up at her. “Something wrong?”
She shakes her head enthusiastically with a small smile, but her eyes are tearing up. “No,” she says, touching the side of my face gently.
“Then why are you crying? Did I hurt you?” I grow panicked at her tears and the thought of doing something to cause her pain. This girl has been through enough of that. Hell, she’s been through years of it.
“It’s not you.” She wipes her cheek. “It’s just…it’s this town and the things that…” Her chest shudders.
And it hits me like a ton of bricks. “Oh,” I say solemnly.
God, what an idiot I am. I move away and sit beside her on the bed.
“I’m sorry,” she says, sitting up.
“Don’t be.” I look over at her. “Don’t ever be sorry, Kat.”
Anger moves through me like the smoothness of oil on water.
She shouldn’t have to feel this way.
She shouldn’t be fucked up because of that piece of shit. I don’t know how to handle this.
Resting my elbows on my knees, I hold my head in my hands as I look down at the worn carpet. My skin buzzes; my spine tingles with electricity. I stand up and walk over to my shoes.
“Where are you going?” K asks, panic rising in her voice.
“I just need a little air.”
“A little air?” She stands up.
I lean down and slide my shoes on before reaching for my hat and coat.
“Yeah. Don’t worry. Get some rest.” I walk over and kiss her forehead, sliding the door key and my car keys off the dresser. “I’ll be back.”
“Are you serious?” Her eyes are wide.
“You’re tired. I’m not. I need to think for a moment.”
I go to the door and turn the knob. “Sleep, K.”
Walking out into the bitter cold, I slide my arms through my coat and make my way to my car.
A drink is what I need.
__________
The place is packed now, filled with bored small-towners. I walk up to the bartender I saw earlier and order a bourbon before sliding onto a stool at the opposite end of the bar.
Looking around, I take in the people surrounding me. A few women sit at a table playing quarters. Some too young to drink, some too old to care.
Guys play darts down at the end of the bar, and I see a few sitting across from me talking amongst themselves. I throw back my drink as soon as it hits the bar top.
“Keep ’em coming,” I say, tossing a few bills beside my empty glass.
“You ain’t from around here,” he says to me as he grabs my glass and money. “You with that girl that came in here earlier?”
“Yeah, why?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Just guessing. You two sure like your liquor, but shit, if you paying, I ain’t got no problem. Just don’t cause any and we’ll be good.”
I smirk. “Just get my bourbon.”
He looks at me for a moment before sauntering off, deciding making money is more important than whatever else he was about to say.
By round five, I’m feeling looser and my mind has slowed down.
But anger is still there. It lurks in the shadows of my subconscious ready and waiting. I’m afraid I’ll never be rid of it.
But maybe with Kathrine by my side I will learn to handle it better. I take sip of the beer I ordered on the last round, my eyes looking down the bar and narrowing. The men who’ve been sitting at the opposite end keep darting their eyes over to me and I can’t help but wonder why. I swallow the beer and place my bottle down, clearing my throat and pulling my wallet out. I toss some money beside my longneck and stand up.
Adjusting my coat, I move slowly around the bar until I reach the gentlemen.
I put my hand on one of their shoulders and they both turn my way.
I smile. “Sorry, but I couldn’t help but wonder. Do you know me?”
They both look at each other, shaking their heads before saying, “No.”
I nod. “Then what the fuck are you looking at me for?”
One guy stands up and the other goes to do the same, but I act first, slamming my fist into his face.
It feels good. It feels too good and it fucking hurt.
I smile just as a fist lands against my jaw.
The bar roars to life and I hear tables and chairs scatter as I swing my fist and feel hit after hard hit.
I need this.
Fuck, if I don’t need this.
My anger comes to life, flesh and bone.
I release rage and bad memories. Pain and heartache. Life’s not fair and how could all this bad shit happen to my girl? My face goes numb a
nd blood fills my mouth, but I don’t stop the onslaught. The bartender does, and within moments the guy and I are broken apart and the bartender is shoving me out the door. I stumble but don’t fall, turning back to the bartender with a bloodstained grin I can’t help.
I feel fantastic.
He shakes his head at me. “You’re fucking crazy. Stay out of my bar. You and your girl.”
I spit onto the ground as he walks back inside, slamming the door shut behind him. A deep rumbling comes from my chest and I find myself laughing.
Jesus Christ, I am crazy.
I slide my keys from my pocket and head toward my car.
Goddamn, what a night.
I walk into our hotel room as quietly as possible. Closing the door behind me, I kick my shoes off and walk to the bathroom.
I look in the mirror.
Damn, not as bad as I thought it would be, but I’m sure tomorrow will tell another story. I touch the cut on my lip and roll my eyes.
I could have gone to jail.
But don’t you feel better?
I turn the sink on and fill my palm with water, swishing it in my mouth before spitting into the sink. I remove my coat and slide my wallet and keys from my pocket. I look down at K who sleeps on her stomach.
The rise and fall of her back tells me she’s sound asleep and I’m grateful.
Maybe we both needed a minute to think.
We didn’t exactly go the same route, but we ended up where we should.
Together.
I climb into bed and she stirs, twisting and moving on her side, away from me.
I reach over and wrap my arm around her middle. She doesn’t protest, settling in close to me, and after I breathe her in and kiss her hair, I fall asleep more content than I ever remember.
Chapter Eleven
Kathrine
Soft cotton brushes against my skin as I gaze out of the hotel window. Bryce’s shirt is a welcome comfort, and I’m glad he opted for his clothes instead of my own. The sound of water is behind me and in front is endless white scattered over a beat-down town. I rest my chin on my knee, contemplating on the last forty-eight hours as dead trees sway from the wind and flakes fall from its branches.
Give Me Perfect Love (Give Me Series Book 2) Page 6
