by H. J. Bellus
Miles
by HJ Bellus
Miles
Copyright © 2014 by HJ Bellus. All rights reserved.
First Print Edition: April 2014
Limitless Publishing, LLC
Kailua, HI 96734
www.limitlesspublishing.com
Formatting: Limitless Publishing
Photographer: Scott Cain
Model: Buddy Clay
ISBN-13: 978-1499104134
ISBN-10: 1499104138
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Dedication
To all of those who have loved and lost and then were forced to choose a side.
To the one person who has stood by my side through this entire journey and truly didn’t even know the wild ride she was a part of...some call this too much confidence.
I love you, Prez!
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
Prologue
Dear Little Notebook,
It has been over a year since I have been home. It’s strange to think that life has continued without me on the farm. It hurts my heart daily to think of Annie going to dance practice without me, and the sports princess hitting a home run at her baseball game without me there cheering her on. I miss her so much.
The only thing that has kept my soul fed are Tripp’s weekly Skypes. He has kept me updated on all things Fitzpatrick. He has made sure that I’m a part of every single one of Rose’s milestones. Hell, he even shipped me a piece of her birthday cake.
I still refuse to chat with Lacey and Tripp respects that fact. Sides were taken and unforgivable lines were drawn. Through it all, Tripp has fought to keep his relationship with me, and for that I will always love him.
My life here in Cali is perfect with my two boys, two dogs, and adopted nana, Winnie. Growing up, I wanted it all, from the big house to the chromed out SUV, and the perfect husband. Little did I know that living in a double wide trailer, driving a muscle car, and splurging on Cap’n Crunch would be my dream life.
It’s time to go home, though. Tripp called last night and I only heard two words: “It’s Annie.” Without thinking, we threw together our suitcases and booked our flights.
I was told to never come home again. Cree didn’t want me a part of the family anymore, but nothing could hold me back when it came to my girl. I need to hold her hand and let her know she’ll pull through this.
Well, there it is, the final boarding call for Denver, Colorado. Thank you for always being here for me Little Notebook, and letting all my problems, fears, and achievements flow on your pages disguised in purple ink.
Always,
Willow
Chapter 1
My Life
Well, it has been ninety-three days since my brother finished destroying my heart. It wasn’t actually Cree’s fault—you could say he was just the bearer of bad news. Our relationship will never be the same. I guess that’s what happens when you fall in love with your brother’s best friend.
Greyson is a chapter that I have promised to keep closed forever. It’s one of those ugly nasty doors you shut forever to avoid the smell of rotting debris left behind. The healthiest approach? No. The easiest approach? Yes. He’s locked away and staying there forever, and Cree cemented that fact the day he dropped the bombshell. In fact, it was March 12th, the day Rose was born.
I am damned and determined to not let the memories of that day ruin the beautiful memory of my second niece being born. The innocence and simple beauty of Rose simply overpowers the rot filling my heart. It’s a simple disguise.
I moved in with Tripp and Lacey not long after Rose was born. I put the apartment up for rent at The Shop, packed up my room at Cree’s place, and moved in with Lacey and Tripp. I knew I always had a standing invitation at Lacey’s, and the clear cut fact that she and Tripp would accept me no matter the situation only made my decision a no brainer.
I still find it hard to comprehend that Tripp is my brother. He takes the “job” of being my brother very seriously. Talk about taking the act of being overprotective to a whole new extreme. I finally found the courage to share my story with Lacey and Tripp. It hurt to reveal the fact that I dropped out of college, fell in love with Greyson, let him use me for years, and fought with Cree about all of it. Yeah! It stung like a bitch to admit my failures to one more set of people in my life who genuinely cared for me.
The hurt expression Tripp held in his eyes absolutely devastated me and sent goose bumps up my spine. I’ll never forget the words he spoke. They replay constantly in my mind.
“Why? Why didn’t you tell me?” Tripp whispered as he dropped his head down into his hands.
“Tripp, I don’t talk. I wanted to fix everything on my own. I wanted it to work.”
He raised his head and stared straight into my eyes. “A. You’re never going to be on your own again. Do you understand me? B. You never let anyone treat you or talk to you like you’re trash. Do you understand me? C. I’m going to kill him. Do you understand me?”
Tripp immediately jumped to his feet, threw on his trucker hat, and headed for the door, but before he left, he turned to Lacey and me with a mixture of rage and desire covering his face.
“See, little sister, the difference between Cree and me is I don’t let people forget their words. Greyson will never forget his actions. His momma won’t even be able to love him by the time I’m done with the fucker, I promise you that.”
With his very exact promise, Tripp slammed the door and left with only the sounds of his dirt bike lingering in the night air.
Lacey joined me on the couch, practically sitting in my lap, and whispered, “We’ve got you, Willow. We’re here, regardless of anything. Just be you. And we promise to never let anyone hurt you like that again. Just promise to come to us.”
“I’ll try,” I lied as I let Lacey hold me and silently wondered if only I hadn’t lost…
“Oh, and the number one house rule—if it’s a rockin’, don’t come a-knockin’.” Rose saved me from any more Lacey sex talk torture.
“What am I going to do? I mean—”
Lacey interrupted with no apologies. “Willow, you’re going to carry on with your badass self and not let anyone, and I do mean anyone, tear you down again. Use that badass shield to guard your heart while you heal. No one is allowed in again until you’re healthy and ready to accept happiness back into your life. If you let that guard down, you’ll get burned.”
Lacey’s words held so many hidden messages that weren’t lost on me. She was right, my guard needed to go back up until I was ready to show the real Willow to the world.
“Oh, and Wils, never forget that Tripp and I are always on your side—always. Just don’t fuck around with any midgets. I might not be able to look past that.”
“Really, Lacey? You think I’m a midget fucker?”
“Desper
ate times call for desperate measures,” Lacey said with a giggle. Life is easier with Tripp and Lacey. They never judge or ask questions. With Cree, it’s like having college and the American dream constantly crammed down my throat.
The next time I saw Greyson he still wore the marks from Tripp. Tripp was right—it was going to be hard for his momma to ever love a face like that. My heart grew three sizes that day, and it was all courtesy of Tripp’s fists and love.
The three of us have fallen into an easy routine all centered around sweet Rose. She’s the easiest thing to love these days. Baby Rose is the simple picture of perfection. I always offer to take a night shift to help out the zombified parents, but Lacey always insists on doing all the work at night. She even refuses to wake Tripp , claiming he works all day for his princesses and needs his beauty sleep.
Tripp makes up for it at dinner time. He always makes sure to bring home dinner, or at least the groceries to fix a meal for his family. I find myself working late at The Shop more and more lately. I recently started to make wedding cakes about six months ago and have definitely picked up an ample amount of new clients. Word has really taken off that Cree’s little sister can actually do something worthwhile. On those few late nights, Tripp would fix me a plate and place it in the microwave. He also would leave a note on the counter.
Hey Sis, make sure you eat your veggies. Can’t accept a weakling for a sister. I’m proud of you. Keep your chin up and show life who’s boss.
Your Hot Hunky Brother,
Tripp
His notes of encouragement always make me giggle out loud and feel all warm and gushy inside, just like Momma used to make me feel. Deep down, I know Momma sent Tripp into my life for the sole reason of being my new foundation and to protect me from myself. Cree still has his place, and I know we’ll get through our rough patch.
Decorating cakes has been ideal therapy for me and a perfect time sucker. I dedicate every Monday and Wednesday to taking my Annie girl to dance, doing homework with her, and wrestling around with her and her brother before bed time.
Most nights, I escape before Cree can get ahold of me. He desperately wants to fix me and my situation. He acts as if I’m a tractor he can just whip into shape and get into perfect running condition. His intentions are straight from the heart, but his delivery is always just enough to piss me off. More often than not lately, his famous last words to me are “You can’t be a bitch the rest of your life, Willow.” I respond with, “Watch me, asshole.” Milly starts to cry and yell at us. I slam the door hard enough to prove a point, but not wake the kids. Wash, rinse and repeat every Monday and Wednesday.
The rest of my time I hang my head low and work. I get lost in it, actually. I get sucked into little tasks to avoid living life. Tripp and Lacey have caught on to my not so stealthy tactics and kidnap me on occasion me from The Shop. Our rendezvous typically consist of shopping, eating, and getting new tattoos. My time with them is easy and relaxing, nothing is forced or expected, and for that I try to tone down my bitchy level with them. Let’s be honest, though—no one does bitch better than Lacey.
It’s the nights I sneak into Rose’s room and watch her sleep that I allow myself to think of all the what if scenarios. What if Greyson loved me more? What if my body worked harder? What if I wasn’t so plain looking? And there are nights that I can’t help but pick up that perfect little bundle of blonde hair and rock and cry. I cry for the door slammed shut in my heart and cry for all the what ifs. And some nights I even cry for the Willow who actually lived and didn’t simply survive.
I’ll never forget the night Tripp walked in while I was rocking his sleeping daughter. He went to ask a question and then noticed my tears. Instead of lecturing me to move on or scolding me to be tough, he simply sat on the ground next to the rocker and placed his large caring hand on my leg. He let me have the night. He gifted me Rose just for the few sacred hours that I could pretend I didn’t lose everything. We never spoke of it. Instead, we live it with every escaped sigh of relief, hidden sign of hope, and our bond of brother-sister.
The roller coaster of life is a real bitch. Some days, I float through life lite as a feather, able to enjoy the little things like the delicate cracks in the sidewalk or the crisp taste of my coffee. On days like these, I find myself texting Cree, laughing at his jokes, and even dreaming of happiness again one day. These moments are rare and hard to find, but I definitely relish every single second of them. My soul is a barren, cracked surface, and these happy days are an abundance of water that runs off me, unable to soak up any of its joy. I really want to know the secret ingredients that mingle together to create this magical concoction within me, but just like magic, this feeling vanishes in a poof. Like clockwork, the ever familiar companion of darkness takes up residence inside me.
Let’s talk about this darkness for a minute. Have you ever experienced such darkness that you have the gun loaded and on standby? And by that I mean you can see yourself pulling the trigger, you can feel the trigger on your finger and finally see the end of your story. The final chapter where happiness and darkness can no longer play you like a fiddle. The end that holds the power to cease the heaviness on your chest and end the rage that fills you from head to toe. In times of this darkness, I really have to focus on the tiny sliver of light in my life—my family. My family that drives me shit ass crazy. The ones trying to fix me their way. The ones I want to choke more than hug at several points during the day. They are all I have to get me through this.
Instead of the pistol, I have created a mask. This mask keeps everything locked tightly behind the door in my heart. Any mask is likely to crack at any given minute, and I know that when it does, it won’t be pretty and there’ll be lots and lots of carnage. You’ll never find this particular technique in a book of medicine, nor recommended by any doctor or sane person because it is my way. My way to cope, deal, live day to day and just be. I guess somebody has to set a bad example, so with my mask, door to my heart locked tightly, and new life motto, “No fucks given,” I’ll battle my way through this thing called life one moment at a time.
Chapter 2
Ding
“Go make me a sandwich while I provide opportunistic nutrients for my child via my big titty,” Lacey yells from her recliner.
I give Lacey the you talking to me, hooker face, and tell her to shut it.
“Make me a sandwich, bitch. You need your practice, because one day, I promise that you’ll find a man worthy of making a sandwich for.”
I shake my head and begin to tell her just how foolish her statement is.
Lacey interrupts, “You know this one time I was making Tripp a sandwich, and I decided to put the mayo on my—”
“Oh. My. God. Shut up. I’m going to make your damn sandwich…please remember he’s my brother!”
Lacey cups her hands around Rose’s ears, and that’s when I knew I should have run for cover.
“Yes, I know he’s your brother—your brother with the very big and beautiful dick, although it is a little crooked, it’s still one beautiful cock. I mean, like a nine incher that does all sorts of tricks.”
I don’t know if it was the look of disgust on my face or a memory of hers, but Lacey burst out into laughter. I run as fast as I can to make her damn sandwich before I escaped to work for the day.
***
That damn doorbell is going to be the ever loving death of me. Milly still tells the story about that same exact bell dinging the day Cree walked in and she almost cut off her finger. She refuses to get rid of the annoying piece of metal. Every time the asshole goes off I cringe inside, and my butt literally puckers with anxiety. Half of me hopes it’s Greyson so I can sneak a peek at him and the other half of me fears it’s Greyson. I have no control of that bleating little fucker of a doorbell.
I keep my head down and continue adding the final touches to the five tiered, neon pink and orange wedding cake. One of Milly’s part time high school girls is running the coffee part of The Shop, so sh
e can help the customer. It would be so easy to lift my head and sneak a peek, but instead I choose to get lost in forming the delicate flowers out of icing that trim the cake.
“Willow,” squeaks out the timid voice of Leah, the high school help.
She’s a nice enough girl, but for the love of God, she needs to leave me alone. I’ve made it clear to her that I don’t want to be friends or her role model. Hell, I’ve made that point abundantly clear to the world. I have my family, and the blaring no vacancy sign flashing on my forehead should be enough evidence for most idiots.
“Um, I need your help,” Leah squeaks a little louder this time.
Gripping the icing bag with a little too much force, I manage to get out, “Just a freaking second.”
Letting my temper get the best of me, I slam down the bag of icing, forcing a solid stream of neon orange sailing straight into the air. My eyes follow the stream of icing and my ears hear the squeal of Leah’s voice. When my eyes finally land on her, she is perfectly decorated in orange icing. The heartless bitch in me giggles out loud without remorse.
A low grumble draws my attention from Leah to the gorgeous hunk also decorated in orange frosting standing next to her. The dark haired, stubbly bearded stranger has frosting dripping from the front of his tight white T-shirt. My eyes are absolutely in love with him. He’s a walking advertisement straight from the wrong sides of the tracks. I mean, his face is that of a Greek god, but his look and dress screams bad boy—the type of bad boy you want to ride off into the sunset. To hell with that, he’s the kind you want to ride all night.
“Hello,” the stranger says, as he waves his hand in front of me.
