Damaged 2

by Ward, H. M.

  "That's why Sean sent you away. He knew I'd snap if I was pushed too far, since I already had once before. I didn't know what happened. After you left, I asked Sean, but he gave me a story and I believed it. He said you needed some time alone, which seemed off.

  "Then Sean told me a bunch of crap about how you demanded money from him—he even showed me your bank account with all the cash he wired. He took a dirty shot. Someone did that to me before, and he knew it'd slow me down. Sean played me. I'm sorry I doubted you. I'm sorry it took me so long to get out here.

  "I followed you last night to the grocery store and then to the park. I didn't understand why you went with Dean after you fought like hell last time he tried something. That's why I trailed you, and apparently Sean was following me to make sure I didn't put the guy in the ground.

  "So to answer your question, I knew how you'd feel after you stabbed him, because I've done it. I didn't want you to feel like that, ever. I want that ghost gone, but the best I can do is banish him for a while. I love you, Sidney. I wish I could do more. I wish I could make it all go away."

  I don't know what to say. "You killed someone?"

  Peter nods, and regret flashes across his face. "It was self-defense, but murder is murder. The guy bled out and died on the way to the hospital. He died because of me. No matter what I do, that's always there. That's why I knew what you were thinking that night because I thought the same things myself."

  "I didn't take money from Sean. Actually, I told him—"

  Peter smiles at me. "I know. He told me on the way here that you said you'd shove any extra cash up his ass. He's kind of a dick like that. I'll beat the shit out him later if it makes you feel better." He's joking, a little bit, maybe.

  "At least someone is looking out for you."

  "Yeah, I suppose." Peter pulls on to my street and rolls to a stop in front of my parents' house. There are lights on, and I know it's packed with people and food. "Do we have to go in right away?"

  Peter shakes his head and cuts the engine. "No, we don't have to. Let's walk around the block. Come on. The fresh air will help."

  Peter walks around and plucks me from the car. We start walking, and his phone buzzes. Someone keeps texting him. "Who's that?"

  "Jonathan." Peter holds my hand, looking straight ahead as he says it.

  "Really? What does he want?"

  "Well, he wants me to drive out to this place in Islip and see why Mom wants to kill him. He also wants me to stick around. The nosy kid found out that I'm currently without an employer and has been making outlandish job offers."

  "Really?" Peter nods with a slight smile on his face. "What'd you tell him?"

  Peter kicks a rock with his saddle shoe. "I told him that I wasn't interested. I want you to take all the time you need with your family. Jon can always find someone else to fix his latest and greatest blunder."

  "Peter…" I stop in my tracks and look up at him. "You can't say things like that. You have no job and no money."

  He shrugs. "I have enough to get me through this. Besides, it's not like I'd leave you now—you're mine, body, mind, and soul."

  I worry about him and it shows on my face. Maybe he is like his younger brother, walking around with his head in the clouds somewhat. People need money to live, and Peter doesn't seem to be in a rush to secure another job. After the way he left the university, I'm not even sure he can be employed somewhere else. I can picture Peter's hands filling out a job application:

  REASON LEFT LAST JOB: Slept with my student.

  Technically, I wasn't Peter's student when he slept with me—unless that's literal and someone is counting sleeping—but looks are just as damning. There were rumors flying around about the two of us long before anything happened. I smirk, thinking back. I had no idea he liked me so much.

  Peter squeezes my hand. "What are you thinking about in that beautiful mind of yours?"

  "About how we met and that I had no idea things would end up here. I'm glad they did. I wouldn't trade a second of those months away."

  Peter lifts my hand to his lips and smiles at me. "Same here. And I'm so glad you finally gave me some coffee because I was seriously parched and had no idea. Like none." He's smiling at me. "So what now? Are we headed back to Texas or do we become Jersey folk?" Peter turns and we continue walking, and turn the corner. We're headed back to my house again. I can see the porch light from here along with scads of cars parked up and down the street like a string of army ants.

  "Jersey folk? Who talks like that? You're from Long Island—and don't think I didn't notice that whole 'I'm from Connecticut,' you liar, because I noticed. You're supposed to have a Gawd-awful accent in there somewhere, Mr. New Yorker, along with a natural scorn for anything awesome that comes out of Jersey, like me."

  "I didn't lie. I came to Texas by way of Connecticut."

  "Same difference, fibber."

  "Not quite, coffee girl." Peter stops me a few houses away and looks down into my eyes with a sexy smile on his face. "And I notice you dodged my question, which makes me think you haven't decided yet."

  "I really don't know what to do." I tuck my hair behind my ear and take a deep breath to steady myself. Emotionally, I feel about as strong as a wet tissue. "I've wasted so much time. I still have one parent and the ugly stepsister back there. It feels like I shouldn't run away this time. Maybe I can fix things or just start over."

  "Wait a second. Is the ugly stepsister Mr. Turkey or Sam? Because I can see the title fitting either of them quite well."

  "Stop talking trash about Mr. Turkey." Of course I meant Sam. He's such a jerk, but he's still blood. I don't want to write him off again, not without trying to patch things up first. I glance at the house and then back at Peter. "So when did you hear his name?"

  "Sam's? You just said it, and I figured it out. Cinderella, ugly stepsister, jealous brother. Got it." Peter taps his index finger against his temple. "You forget how smart I am."

  I laugh and swat at him. "Not that! The bird. How'd you know I named him?"

  "Oh," Peter takes my hand and starts walking again. "I heard you talking to him when I first found you. It was right before your aunt came out and asked you to go to the store. I wanted to rush up to you and hold you in my arms, but I heard what happened and put the pieces together. Showing up too late was a dick move on my part, and I wasn't sure if you wanted me around. When you gave your dinner to the vulture, you called him Mr. Turkey. I thought it was cute. We should get him a bowtie or something."

  "Let's not listen to Sean anymore, like ever, okay?"

  "That is the most brilliant idea I've ever heard. Agreed."

  CHAPTER 27

  Tapping my thumbs swiftly across the screen, I answer the text from Millie and put my phone on the table. Several days have passed, but I haven't headed back yet. Millie did the math and realizes that I'm cutting it really close. I tell her not to worry and put the phone down. I just didn't want to leave Dad yet. He likes having me around. The only time he smiles is when he walks into a room and sees me. There's always surprise on his face, like he'd forgotten that I came back.

  Peter glances over at me. Dad's been letting him sleep on the couch, which helps a lot. If I can't sleep, I come downstairs and sit with Peter on the sofa. He wraps his arms around me and we stare at the television until dawn. I manage to pass out for a few hours at a time. I keep reminding myself that time will lessen the vise on my heart, that it'll unclamp eventually and I'll be happy again.

  Peter pokes his pancakes. Aunt Beth is still cooking for us. At first I thought she was here for Dad, but I think she's here for her. Mom and my aunt were good friends, and I can tell that my aunt feels better when she's in the kitchen cooking. I'm going to get so fat—well, Mr. Turkey is going to be morbidly obese. The bird eats anything I don't finish, and he really likes bacon. I'm thinking about taking a pound of uncooked bacon out of the package and dropping it off the roof so it splatters on the patio. It'll be like old times for the bird, minus th
e trucks.

  "Stop hording bacon for that beast." Peter reaches across and steals a strip from me.

  "There's plenty more bacon, hon!" Aunt Beth calls out from the kitchen.

  I grab the strip away just as Peter's about to eat it, and he bites air. I laugh and toss it out the back door to Mr. Turkey. "Get your own."

  "You did not just do that," Peter says after blinking in shock. He's got dark, tousled hair, two-day scruff on his beautiful face, and a flick of mirth in his eyes. A dark T-shirt clings to his chest and makes his eyes appear bluer than possible. Without warning, Peter leans into me and tickles my side.

  I nearly jump out of my seat, trying to avoid his hands, but Aunt Beth is there. She swats him with the back of the spatula. "None of that at the table, young man."

  I laugh because he's a doctor and my aunt is scolding him like a child. It's hysterical, and Peter has no idea what to do with it. He finally swallows his smile and says, "Sorry, ma'am. It won't happen again."

  "Ma'am?" Aunt Beth glares at him. "How old do you think I am?"

  I point at Peter and laugh. "Come on, Dr. Granz, kiss her ass and say sorry."

  He looks confused. That phrase is respectful in Texas, but up here the women act like it means they're old and decrepit. I continue to snigger at him and get a smack with the spatula, too.

  Aunt Beth shakes her head at me. "Table manners, Sidney. And stop feeding that thing. It'll never leave if you're giving it bacon every day."

  "I'll never leave if you keep feeding me bacon every day," Peter says to Aunt Beth.

  It was the right thing to say because she beams. "Oh, stop." Then she takes his plate and says, "Let me get you some more."

  Peter waggles his brows after folding his arms across his chest. He leans his chair back so it's on two legs and gives me the most arrogant smirk I've ever seen. "She likes me better than the turkey."

  "Everyone likes you better than the turkey."

  "What about you?"

  "At the moment, or in general?" I don't look at him. I take a bite of muffin, or I plan on it, but Peter swats it out of my hands and the treat lands on my plate.

  I do a slow-motion turn and see Peter looking pleased with himself. "You suck."

  "You like it."

  My jaw drops into a surprised smile and I shove his shoulders. The chair slips out from under him, and Peter topples over onto the floor. Aunt Beth choses that moment to appear in the doorway. "Enough of this. If you two want to act like children, then go outside." She places the bacon on Peter's plate, picks it up, and shoves it in his hand before clapping at us. "Come on. Take your things and eat in the yard. Out!"

  Trying to keep from laughing, I grab my plate and walk out the door while biting my tongue. Peter follows after me with a shocked expression on his face. When we're at the swing, he sits next to me and says, "She threw us out."

  I start laughing loudly and shove his shoulder. "You are such an ass."

  "Sidney, focus on something besides my ass. I think we just pissed your aunt off. She banished us to the yard with the bird." Mr. Turkey chooses that moment to creepily saunter forward, looking for food. I toss him Peter's bacon. "Oh, you did not just do that."

  "I believe I did. What you gonna do about it, Professor?" I tilt my head to the side and fold my arms across my chest.

  Peter laughs and lunges at me. My plate of food goes flying with half of it landing on me and the rest falling to the ground under the swing. "You suck!"

  "So you've said." Peter pushes me back so I'm lying on my back on the swing and he's leaning over me. He doesn't pin my wrists, so I don't freak out. Plus there's egg yolk dripping down my forehead like I've been shot in the head by a chicken. Peter dips his finger in the yellow goo and trails it down to my cheeks and makes a heart.

  I squeal, kick, and laugh. I manage to push him off and Peter falls off the swing. I roll and land on top of him. Grabbing the fallen food, I take some scrambled eggs and try to shove them in his mouth—grass and all. "Eat it, Ferro. Come on, open wide."

  A horribly wicked grin crosses his face, which makes me go still. "Sidney, please, it's not coffee time yet." He starts laughing so hard that his whole body shakes with me on top.

  "Say that again. I dare you."

  "Talk dirty to me—" Peter doesn't finish the sentence because I shove the eggs into his mouth. He's grinning at me. Instead of spitting the fallen food out, he chews it and says, "It's a little crunchy."

  "Hey!" Dad yells from the back porch. "You get off of him. Don't make me get the hose, Sid!"

  My face turns beet red and I slip off of Peter and sit down hard next to him. Peter can't stop grinning. He looks back at my dad and waves. My father shakes his head. "You don't want to be on my list, boy. It ends with a shovel and a long car ride, if you know what I mean. Get her knocked up and I'll ruin your life, kid." Dad walks inside without waiting for an answer.

  Peter and I look at each other and we both start laughing like crazy. After a few minutes Peter lies back on the lawn and says, "I didn't knock you up, did I? Just for the record, I need to know that kind of thing so I can buy you and the baby a house and run like hell when your father finds out."

  "I'm not pregnant, Peter. I'm on the pill. I've been on it since stuff happened with the asshole." I pull my knees into my chest and wrap my arms around my ankles. "So do you want the 2.5 kids, the little house, and the whole picket-fence thing?"

  "Maybe." He grins so hard that I know he's teasing me and means hell yeah. "What about you?"

  "Maybe. It probably depends on who's knocking me up and buying the house, you know. Little things like that."

  "Me." Peter's voice is deadly serious. "What if I was the one who held you at night, every night? What if I was the father of your children? And the surrogate parent of your vulture? What would you think of that?"

  I tap my finger to my lip as if I'm pondering the thought. "Would there be dancing?"

  He nods. "Always. Would there be bacon?"

  I laugh. "Of course. What's the American dream without bacon?"

  "You'll have to promise to love me with love handles, because your aunt's cooking and the massive amount of bacon will result in plumpness." Peter tucks his hands behind his head. There isn't anything plump about him, and he eats like the vulture.

  "Only if you promise to love me forever and give me a lifetime supply of coffee. It turns out that I really like the coffee." I wink at him and can no longer contain my smile. It spreads across my face and seeps inside of me. "The past few days have been so hard and so wonderful, too. I don't want you to go, but I know you have to. Things can't stay this way forever."

  "Who says they can't?" Peter looks at the food all over the ground. Mr. Turkey has returned and is pecking a piece of sausage over by the eggs and muffin remains. Peter scrambles over to the spilled food, shooing the bird. He lifts the muffin that I tried to eat several times and brushes it off. "I planned this whole romantic thing, but let me ask you this—will you marry me?"

  I think he's kidding. I tuck my hair behind my ear and tease him. "You like the coffee, too, admit it."

  Peter walks toward me on his knees and hands me the muffin. "I love the coffee. I love you."

  I take the muffin and look at it. "What?"

  "I know we both can't eat food that fell on the ground, but how about you look for the surprise inside?"

  "What are you talking about?" I laugh and look over at him. What did he do? I start pulling the muffin apart until something hard hits my finger. After brushing away the crumbs, I'm left holding a diamond ring between my fingers. I look at the ring and then back up at Peter. "You're really asking me?"

  "Yes, I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy. Will you marry me, Sidney?"

  My face scrunches into the worst expression I can imagine. Laughter and tears blur together and I bleat like a sheep. Peter smiles uncertainly, waiting for my answer, but I can't speak. I throw my arms around his neck, practically knocking him over, and shake my
head. "Yes, yes!"

  Peter picks me up and spins me around. We both shriek and laugh until he sets me down. Then Peter hollers at the back door, "She said yes! You can come outside now!"

  I glance at him, surprised, and then at the door. My aunt rushes toward us with a weepy smile on her face and the spatula still in hand. She hugs both of us at the same time and is a mess of incoherent babbling.

  When we pull away, Daddy is standing there looking stern. "I meant what I said. You take care of her."

  "I will, sir." Peter shakes Dad's hand before he turns to me and hugs me so tight that my head pops off.

  Sam is behind them, looking Samish. He's pouting today because Dean decided to move on a whim. Like the guy packed up his stuff and fled. When Sam told me that, I was so glad that I had trouble hiding it. There's no chance of seeing Dean again at all. After Sean and Peter finished with him, Dean ran off with his tail between his legs. Dean didn't tell Sam anything, just that he'd had it with this hellhole and had to take off for someplace better.

  Sam tries to feign happiness. "Congratulations, Sid. I'm happy for you." He gives me a quick hug and then walks over to Peter. "Don't make me kick your ass if you mistreat her."

  I watch to see Peter's reaction and hope he doesn't knock Sam's head off his shoulders. Sam always says the wrong thing and now is no exception. Peter gives my brother a lopsided grin and pulls him into a bear hug like the one my dad just gave me. "Wouldn't think of it, kid. And I'd always wanted a bouncing baby brother like you!" Sam pulls away with a funny look on his face while the rest of us laugh. Sam finally smiles and offers his hand to Peter. They shake and lean in, saying more things that I can't hear.

  "I knew she was after your money, Pete. Why else would she say yes?" I turn quickly on my heel. Sean is standing behind everyone, looking smug. He's got that leather jacket and biker boots, and looks beyond scary with his helmet under one arm. I'm sure my dad is glad that I picked Peter and not Sean.