Derailed_An Off Track Records Novel

by Kacey Shea

  “Anytime.” He winks and nods at Sean. “He’s a good man, that one. Better than most. But you’ve probably figured that out.”

  I have. But before I can open my mouth to respond, Sean’s hand is at the small of my back. It’s the lightest of touches, but my entire body thrums with a craving for more. More that I shouldn’t have. More that I don’t deserve.

  “See you next week, Iz.” Sean lifts his hand to wave at his friend and I immediately miss the connection. The warmth from his touch stirs a need inside me that can’t be met with sex or financial security. It’s a need for more time with Sean. More innocent moments that feel so much greater than they should.

  Those are the thoughts that turn me inside myself the rest of the ride home. The drive back is nothing like the ride over. Gone is the playful banter. No boy band music singalongs. He doesn’t hand me his phone; instead, he settles on some satellite radio mix. It’s my fault, too. I’m an expert at putting up walls.

  Sean doesn’t point out my silence. He doesn’t give me a guilt trip or coax me into conversation. I’m grateful because it doesn’t turn the quiet into awkwardness, but at the same time my gut churns with disappointment. As if I want him to call me out and break down my safe front. As if I want him to see all of me. Stupid, pathetic, and pointless since that’s not what he wants. The ugly parts are there along with my good, and even a glimpse would send him running.

  The signs approach for our exit and it’s only then Sean lowers the music and glances over. “Hey, are you hungry? There’s this Mexican food joint on the way. They have burritos that are to die for.”

  “Oh, um . . .” I sit up in my seat and check the time on the dash. It’s almost noon, and dread fills my mind. There’s a good chance Coy’s already up, and delaying the inevitable will only make things worse.

  “We have to go. They’re so good.” He’s not asking, but the way he lets the words linger gives me an out. “You have to be starving. I know I am.”

  “I am, actually.” I blow out a breath and force a smile. “But shouldn’t we get back soon? Everyone might start to wonder—”

  “Oh, yeah. Totally.” He nods like it’s no big deal, but the hurt is there. He was reaching out an olive branch and I didn’t take it.

  “I’m sorry. It’s just I don’t want Coy to worry.”

  “It’s cool, Jess. In fact, that’s an even better idea. We’ll hit the drive-thru since it’s on the way and bring food back for everyone.” He makes a right turn and pulls to a stop at the next light before meeting my stare. His lips lift in a smile that’s much too generous for what I expect. “Hey, it’s fine. I’m being selfish wanting more time, but you’re right; we should head back.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I should be the one thanking you. I really appreciate you coming with me today, Jess. More than you know.” His gaze clouds over and I want to ask what for. I want to know why his sunny enthusiasm turns to gray. A horn behind us blares and we both glance up to a waiting green light. Sean cringes with a sheepish smile, sending us forward with a foot to the gas.

  Twenty minutes later we walk into the house with two white paper bags of food. The aroma is mouthwatering and my stomach rumbles appreciatively. I should be scared, or at least anxious about how Coy will react, but I don’t allow myself to worry. If he’s upset, he has every right, and whatever consequences result are ones I deserve. It’s been nice to take a timeout from life. To ride with the windows down and bask in someone else’s attention for a few hours. But that’s not real life. Having a taste of something better only makes me wish for what I can’t have.

  “Dude, yes!” Trent pops off the couch as Sean and I walk past the living room with the food. “Nando’s?”

  “As if there were any other choice.” Sean’s lips lift to a grin as he sets the bags on the counter and slides them in front of me.

  “You are the best!” Trent says. “Aust! Get in here, man. They brought food!”

  I begin unpacking the bag of burritos and dividing the different sauces.

  “Nando’s! Fuck, yes!” Austin joins us at the counter.

  A chuckle escapes my lips as everyone reaches for food and stuffs their mouths as if they haven’t eaten in days. They don’t even bother with plates or silverware, just unroll one end of the foil wrapped tortillas and take bites.

  “Come on, Jess. Eat.” Sean bumps my shoulder with his elbow.

  “I will.” I laugh and grab one of the burritos. I should find Coy now, but I really am hungry. I eat a few bites, hoping he’ll join us on his own, but that doesn’t happen. Delaying the inevitable won’t help. I fold the foil back over my food and catch Trent’s stare. “Is Coy up yet?”

  Trent shakes his head. “Haven’t seen him. I think he’s still out for the count.”

  “I’m going up to check on him.”

  “But you didn’t finish your food.” Sean narrows his gaze at what’s left.

  I pat my belly and roll my eyes. “I can’t keep up with you. I don’t know where you put it all, but I’m good.” I stick my thumb over my shoulder. “And I should really go check on Coy.”

  “Yeah, right.” Sean nods, but there’s no ease to his smile. “We’ll save some for you both.”

  The guys continue to eat and talk, their voices fading as I walk to the front room and up the stairs. Down our hallway it’s all quiet but for the hum of the air conditioner. It’s almost too much to hope that he really is still asleep. I turn the handle and step in our bedroom to find the lights out and the darkening shades drawn shut. I let the door swing closed behind me with a soft click, and it takes a few minutes for my eyes to adjust.

  “Babe?” I walk to his side of the bed.

  “I’m right here.” I jump at the snarl in his hard reply from behind me, and there’s no sleep in his voice. He clicks on a lamp and floods the room with light, and once again my eyes work to catch up. Cracking his knuckles, he sits on the ottoman next to our dresser. He’s too still. Too calm.

  An eeriness settles along with the growing fear in my belly. “Coy, are you okay? Why are you sitting in the dark?”

  “Where the hell else am I supposed to sit, Jess?” He lifts one eyebrow and narrows his gaze.

  “Coy?” I take a step forward but his next words stop me from coming closer.

  “What the fuck is going on?” His tone is controlled, his voice low, and the hair on the nape of my neck stands up with dread.

  Shaking my head, I take a step backwards, already anticipating his charge. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Damn, you do.” He shoves to his feet, stalks across the space between us, and shoves a small piece of paper in my face. He wads the paper into a ball, throws it on the bed, and turns away to pace the length of the room.

  I don’t know what it says, and curiosity gets the best of me. I reach out and retrieve it, ironing out the crinkles to read the note. No, no, no. Sean must have left it this morning.

  Coy turns, approaches like a brooding storm, and rips the note from my hands. His other hand grabs my arm just above the bend in my elbow. “Are you cheating on me? With him?”

  “Sean? What? No!” I say, but it’s no use because the minute my eyes lift to his I can tell he’s already gone. You can’t stop a tornado once it’s begun. The only thing to do is weather the storm and pray you survive the chaos. Hope the destruction isn’t too devastating to rebuild.

  “You are, aren’t you? You’ve been an unfaithful little whore. Just like when I found you.” He shakes my entire body from where he yanks my arm.

  “Coy!” I say as calmly as I can.

  “Don’t Coy me. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” His eyes narrow to slits and he shoves me so I fall back onto the bed. It’s only a moment before his body’s over mine, pinning me to the mattress. His hand slides over my breast, up to my neck, and cups my throat. “Are you fucking him?”

  I try to shake my head, but his hand doesn’t allow me much movement. “The only man I’ve been wit
h since the day we met has been you.”

  “Don’t lie to me.” His fingers tighten around my neck. He’s rougher than he’s ever been but I know he’s just upset. I made him this way. “You like him, don’t you?”

  “Baby. Don’t. I can’t—” His fingers squeeze and holy shit—I may pass out. Tiny lights, like spotlights, glitter at the edge of my vision. Oh, God. No. I don’t even have the will to fight him. My lips won’t move, and I’m so close to giving in to the darkness. But before I do, he loosens his hold enough for me to suck in air. I gasp. Oxygen fills my lungs and my vision clears.

  I don’t even see his hand come. The sharp sting of his slap gains him my complete attention. “I know what you’ve been up to. You think you’re clever, don’t you? Doting on him right under my nose like I won’t notice. Like I don’t know you’re always waiting for him outside in the mornings. That you two have your little private chats? Does he make you feel special? Is that it? Does he make you feel like more of a woman than I do?”

  Tears gather in my eyes, but I blink them back and shake my head. Crying never works; it only makes things worse. “No, Coy. It’s not like that at all.”

  He slaps me again, so hard my vision dims and my ears ring.

  “Don’t you lie to me! Don’t fucking lie!” He pulls his hand up again.

  I’d shrink back but there’s nowhere to go. “I’m not. Baby, I’m not.” My eyes plead with him as much as my words.

  A snarl twists his features. “You’re nothing to him. You get that? You’re just some pathetic loser girlfriend with no job, no skills, no money. The only thing you have is this—” He roughly palms the apex of my legs. “And that’s mine. Fucking mine. You understand me?”

  A tear, solitary and traitorous, spills from the corner of my right eye for Coy to witness just how much his words wound. That I do enjoy every fucking minute of those conversations with Sean. That I shouldn’t, but I do. “Please, don’t.” Desperation melds with my plea and I fight the desire to shut my eyes, a vain attempt to block out the truth of his accusations.

  A chuckle erupts from Coy’s mouth, almost manic, and it’s enough to gain my attention. Still pinning me to the bed with his body, his lips press together in a smug smile as he leans over me. “God, you’re stupid. You’d have nothing without me. Nothing. You know that?”

  More tears follow the trail made for them and I tilt my chin away so I don’t have to see his disgust mirrored along with my own shame.

  “No. Don’t you dare,” he growls, and before I can move, he has my chin between his fingers, yanking my gaze back to him. “You’re mine, Jess. Mine.”

  I know what he’s asking for. I know what he needs, but a little piece of me dies to admit defeat, even if I know he’s right. “Yours,” I whisper as more tears leak from the outside corners of my eyes.

  His lips are on mine in an instant. Punishing and brutal this time, and I don’t doubt he’ll leave marks. His fingers wrap around my throat, this time for pleasure and within moments he’s removed my clothes and slides inside me. He takes and takes and I just lie there, letting him. Giving him what he’s owed.

  Would Sean ever fuck me like this? Is this how he fucks other women? The thought only coils the guilt deep within my belly. Thinking of another man—my only real friend and my boyfriend’s bandmate—while Coy’s cock pulses inside of me is so, so wrong. But I don’t even try to stop.

  Closing my eyes, I imagine what it would be like if I were just some girl, beautiful and confident, talented and famous, and free to love whomever I choose. The kind of girl who would be with someone like Sean. That’s all it takes for my orgasm to rush through my body and I come, clenching tightly around Coy. My own release is what helps him reach his own climax.

  “Oh, God. Jess.” He comes inside me, huffs out two ragged breaths, and then rolls onto the mattress beside me. “God damn it.”

  “I’m sorry.” They’re the only words that croak through my parted lips. What am I apologizing for? I’m not entirely sure, but it’s the heavy weight of regret that pushes me to always say them after a fight with Coy.

  He props a pillow under his head and pushes up on his elbow to gaze down at my naked body. I watch him while his fingertips trace the curve of my hip, over my belly and between my breasts. They pause at my collarbone and his eyes widen. “Oh, Jess.” His voice is full of anguish. “I’m so sorry.” He lowers his head to press soft kisses at my throat.

  He’s sorry. I know he is. But still, the fear from the strength of his hands around me and the anger in his eyes not minutes ago comes back to push more tears from my eyes.

  “Jess, I’m sorry.” He pulls me into his side, wrapping me in his arms. “God, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “I know,” I confess. He doesn’t mean to. I knew better than to get in Sean’s car without asking his permission.

  “You must hate me.” He sniffs back his own tears.

  I open my eyes and meet his stare. “I don’t.” I could never.

  “I’m so sorry, baby. I know you would never cheat on me. I know you wouldn’t.” He cradles me to his chest. But I feel unworthy of his affection, of his apology. Because the truth? Though I’ve never touched another man, I am unfaithful. With my mind. With my thoughts. With my hopes and dreams. When I envision the perfect life, Coy’s nowhere in it. Those are the thoughts that haunt me as I drift to sleep in his arms. That, and the fear he’ll discover exactly who I am. That he’ll know for as much as nothing happened today between Sean and me, I wasn’t completely innocent. Not in the way Sean made me feel. The way he made me hope for more. Shame and guilt are familiar friends, and wrap their fingers around my skin, bruised and sore, when I finally find rest.

  We lie together for the rest of the afternoon, exhaustion from not sleeping last night finally taking hold. It isn’t until long after the sun’s light fades from between the slats in the white wooden blinds that Coy stirs and leaves our bed, heading straight to the bathroom and shutting the door. The water from the showerhead hits the marble of the shower, along with music from his phone.

  Unable to fall back asleep, I sit up and flip on the bedside light. I pull on a T-shirt from the floor, one that Coy wore a few days ago. Reaching under the bed, I sneak my journal—the notebook Deb gave me—from it’s safekeeping of a simple shoe box. I let the pages fall open, along with my most private secrets, and pick up the pencil to etch more onto a blank page.

  I knew better. But I went anyway.

  What does that tell you about the kind of person I am?

  My hand lifts to the marks I know are pressed around my throat, and up to where my cheek is tender and swollen. Coy has his demons, but at least he doesn’t hide them from me. Not like I do with him.

  I deserve the pain. It’s nothing compared to what lies inside. He doesn’t always punish like today, but for a second, right before I was about to pass out, I thought he might kill me. He might not stop this time. And the scarier thought? A part of me wanted him to. To make it all go away. To end this—

  “Jess?”

  I jolt at Coy’s words and snap the book shut.

  His eyes zero in on what’s in my hands and with the towel wrapped around his hips, he marches toward the bed and rips my notebook from my grip. “What is this?”

  “It’s my journal.”

  “Your journal?” His jaw works back and forth. “And you what? Write shit in here about me? About how fucking horrible I am?”

  “No.” I shake my head but that isn’t entirely true. I do write about him. The bad, the good, and the truth. I never intended for him to read it. I never wanted anyone to read what’s inside. I was stupid to ever give ink to the thoughts I don’t dare speak aloud.

  “No?” He holds the book up to the side of his face. His eyes are hard looking down on me. “You won’t mind if I have this, then?”

  My hands itch to grab it back, but I can’t do that. Instead, I reach for a pillow and tug it into my lap. “They’re only my thoughts, Coy. Some idea
s I have. That’s all, I swear.”

  “Oh, you swear? Does that mean anything to you? Does it?” His hands ball into fists and the notebook folds in half under the pressure of it. A force I understand all too well, and one I don’t wish to provoke. Not after earlier.

  “I’m sorry, Coy.” There’s nothing else to say. If he reads it, I’m afraid he’ll be pushed to the edge. He won’t like what I wrote. He won’t want me. He’ll be done, and after that . . . I’ll have nothing.

  “Sorry.” He grinds his jaw with his glare. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re thinking, Jess. For once I have everything, everything I want, and you just can’t wait to fuck that up.”

  My hand goes to my throat and his eyes follow the movement.

  “Fucking hell. You want to throw that in my face, too!” My neck. I haven’t looked, but I have no doubt the bruises are already visible. His phone chirps from the other room, and he walks back into the bathroom without another word. And with my most sacred words in his hands.

  I wait, unable to move and hardly able to breathe as he bangs around in the bathroom. Expletives fly and so does something else, hitting the tile floor with a crash. Still, I don’t move, held immobile by helplessness. What can I do? Coy has every right to be angry, and the words I wrote in that journal will only seal the fate I always expected.

  He’ll leave me.

  Coy storms back into the room, fully dressed and ready to go out with my journal still gripped in his left hand. He walks past, not even glancing up, as he pockets his wallet off the dresser.

  I want to ask where he’s going. I want to beg him not to leave. Not read the book. I want to beg him to never leave me alone. Instead, I sit on the mattress in his day-old shirt with a blanket pulled over my body for protection.

  It isn’t until his hand is on the doorknob that he acknowledges I’m in the same room. “What you did today? With this shit.” He slaps the journal against the door and I jump at the sound. “It’s unforgiveable, Jess. It’s fucking traitorous.”

  “I’m so—”

  “Don’t,” he snaps, pointing his glare so I want to slink back and disappear. Anger. Hate. Disgust. It’s all levied on me. “I don’t want to hear your excuses. I don’t see how I can move past this. How the fuck am I supposed to trust you?” He drops his gaze and shakes his head. “I’m going out with the guys. Don’t wait up.” He disappears with the slam of the door. He’s gone from the room. Maybe even my life.