Cross My Heart

by K. D. Friedrich

  “You don’t know shit.”

  Stan shook his head and sighed. “Dude, you’ve had a few too many tonight. Maybe you need to grab a cab and sleep it off. I warned her about you. Cara is too damn blinded by the man she thinks you are.”

  Pete tried to shove him back, but he held his ground. “Don’t pretend you know her.”

  “I can say the same thing to you, Cross. You didn’t deserve her back in high school and you sure as hell don’t deserve her now. So if you don’t mind,” Stan brushed past Pete, “I have a willing woman to get back to and a warm bed waiting for us at home.”

  Like hell you do, you son of a bitch. He’d never allow Stan to hurt her again.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” Pete said.

  Seizing Stan by the arm, Pete spun him around to face the absolute fury rushing through his veins. Satisfaction erupted in his chest as his knuckles cracked against the side of Stan’s face. Stan crashed against the bar, knocking over several drinks. The glasses hit the ground and shattered. Warm blood seeped between Pete’s fingers. Whose blood, he didn’t know or care.

  “Come on, you bastard,” Pete taunted him. With his fingers clenched in his palms, he advanced.

  Stan’s arm shot up. The uppercut sent Pete flying back into a pair of stools. They exploded on impact, sending wood splinters in every direction. His body slammed into the hard wood floor. Pete swore someone jabbed a blade in his tailbone. Pain radiated down his leg. Searing agony spiraled along his shoulder. Unable to restrain his agony, he cried out.

  Screams erupted all around them. Pete fought through the violent assault raging against his body. His drunken adrenaline helped him lift himself off the ground, but his powerful will was what kept him up. He went after Stan again. Out of nowhere, Carl jumped in his path and blocked him.

  “This isn’t the way, son.”

  Pete lifted his gaze to find Cara standing beside Stan. She tipped his chin to examine his swollen, bloody lip. Pete growled at the sight of her hand touching Stan and lunged, almost breaking free of Carl’s grip.

  “What is wrong with you, Cara?” Pete shouted. “Going out with this piece of crap? I see why you kept your mouth shut for the last few weeks. I wouldn’t want anyone to know I was dating this loser, either.”

  “Not anyone, you. I know how you are. I mean, come on, look at this mess.” She frowned. “Let’s go, Stan. I need to take a better look at your lip.”

  “Sure, sunshine.” Stan glanced at John and Carl. “Listen, I’m sorry to interrupt your night. Let me buy you guys a round of beers.” He turned toward the bar.

  The suggestion drove Pete nuts. Sure, make me look like the bad guy you piece of…

  “I’m not finished talking to you.” Pete leaped for Stan.

  Cara blocked him. “Come on, Pete. What is this about? You were always the one able to keep a level head. Well, except for the time when you caught Stan and me…but you thought I was being hurt. It wasn’t what you thought then and it’s not what you think now, we’re just friends.”

  He threw his hands in the air. “Not what I think? Are you serious? He had his tongue down your throat. I suppose letting him fuck you is all in the name of friendship too.”

  The smack came fast and hard. The crowd around them fell silent.

  “Pete,” Carl warned. “Enough.”

  Tears erupted in her eyes. She gave him the same stare she had given him the night before he left for boot camp, the same damn leer that yanked his heart from his chest and stomped on his pride. At least she didn’t say she hated him this time…she didn’t have to.

  She turned her back on him and marched out of the bar. Stan shook his head at Pete. “You’re a fool, a blind fool.” He spun and hurried after her.

  Pete took a few steps toward the door. Carl grabbed his shoulder. “Let her go. She needs time to cool off and so do you.”

  “Pop, I…”

  “Save it, son.” He handed Pete his cane. “Come on, I’ll get you some coffee. You smell like a damn distillery.”

  Chapter 5

  Cara stared straight through the rows of soup and stews lining the center shelf of the local supermarket, her mind lost in the nightmare of the other night. Over in the next aisle, a baby cried. Behind her, shopping carts passed, their squeaky wheels echoing along the linoleum-tiled floors. No matter what, life went on.

  So, why did she feel so freaking stuck?

  Someone sneezed to the left of her. The sudden loud expulsion broke her trance. She turned in time to see the pimple-faced clerk wipe his runny nose with his hand before restocking the rest of the shelf with canned peas.

  Eww…reminder to self, no canned peas this week.

  She grabbed a couple of packages of instant soup mix, not caring the variety. Three days had gone by since the scene at Billiard’s Bar and Grill. Pete hadn’t come back home. According to her father, he spent the last seventy-two hours riding John’s couch. Good riddance. After what he’d said to her, he deserved a few nights in the doghouse or in this case, a dingy sofa in her brother’s living room.

  The big jerk.

  Not long after the fight, Cara had let Stan know how much she valued his friendship, but that there would never be anything more between them, not when someone else owned her heart. The disappointment in his expression brought tears to her eyes, prompting the girl who never cried to bawl like a baby. Stan said nothing. He offered her a pack of pocket tissues with a gentle smile, hugged her until her tears dried up, and walked away.

  Cara wished she desired Stan the way she longed for Pete. Life would have been so easy. She sighed before continuing down the aisle. After a quick turn, she stopped in front of the canned tuna, her red basket growing heavier with each step. She grabbed a can of albacore. Out of nowhere, someone bumped her hip. The can slipped from her hand, fell as if in slow motion, and slammed onto her big toe. Thank God for boots. They took the brunt of the hit, but pain still radiated up her foot.

  “Ouch!” she cried.

  “Jesus, Cara, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

  “My foot is throbbing. Stop sneaking up on me, will you?” She glanced at him with a frown. “I hope you didn’t break my foot for nothing.”

  “Picking up some basics for my mom. Cara, I wanted to apologize again about the other night. Here, let me get it.” Stan lifted the full basket from her hand and placed in on the top part of his wagon. “Why don’t you get a wagon?”

  “If I can’t fit it in the basket, I can’t afford it. If I used a wagon, I’d walk out of the store bankrupt.” Stan chuckled. She paused a second. “I don’t know why you’re apologizing. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “I let him egg me on.”

  “He hit you first, Stan.”

  “True, but I deserved it. I knew what to say to piss him off and threw it at him. I’m sorry, Cara.” Turning the corner, they walked up to the closest register.

  “Don’t sweat it. He is no innocent. Plus, the man didn’t have to go all Neanderthal on me and he, without a doubt, didn’t have to talk to me the way he did.”

  “You ready to check out?” Cara nodded. After a couple of silent seconds, Stan said, “You have to know he’s in love with you, Cara.”

  She scoffed. “He’s got a funny way of showing it.”

  “You didn’t see how angry he got when he thought we were going back to my place. He wanted to rip my heart out of my chest.”

  “Are you out of your mind? You told him we were going back…” She laughed aloud. “No wonder he flipped. You know how protective Pete is.”

  “This had little to do with protection, sunshine. Pete was rip-roaring jealous. Can’t say I blame him. I’ve envied him for years.”

  “Why?”

  “He won your heart. Why else?”

  Cara shook her head. “Stop…I had a schoolgirl crush on him, nothing more. A fantasy relationship I created. Pete’s been clear from the beginning. Nothing is going to happen between us. They call it a crush for a reason. When all i
s said and done, your heart ends up crushed.” She cringed, realizing how insensitive she sounded after rejecting him the other night. “I’m sorry, Stan.”

  “Listen, you can’t help how you don’t feel. It’s there or it’s not. No matter what, I want us to be friends. I’d rather have your friendship than nothing at all. I want you to be happy and, for reasons I can’t fathom, Pete would make you happy.”

  “You’re too good to me.” She started to load her purchases on the belt, the dull throbbing in her foot nowhere near as painful as the ache in her heart. “But Pete is a lost cause.”

  “Don’t fool yourself. Pete is in love with you. He can deny his feelings all he wants, but he can’t hide them forever.”

  She paid for her groceries and waited while Stan took care of his order, trying to forget the words Stan uttered earlier. Pete is in love with you. The sentence bounced around her head. How could Pete love her and treat her so horribly? Maybe Stan mistook lust for something more. She didn’t doubt Pete’s attraction to her and she knew he felt a certain duty to look out for her out of respect for John, but she had hoped, after all these years, his obligation ran deeper. His behavior over the last few weeks did little to reassure her.

  Stan’s Jeep sat parked in the first space closest to the front doors. Stopping at his car, Cara waited as Stan placed the groceries in his trunk, her two bags hanging from her wrists.

  Stan shut the trunk and turned to her. “Where’s your wreck?”

  “Bite your tongue. My baby is a classic.”

  Stan restrained his amusement. “Oh, I’m sorry. Where’s the classic wreck?”

  “You know, I’m starting to dislike you.”

  They started walking while their laughter carried over the rows of cars. “Listen, how about we go to Darlene’s wedding together? Save some gas. I hate going to those things alone. Everyone thinks you’re some charity case when you show up stag. They try to set you up with every sister, cousin, or friend not attached to some guy’s hip.”

  “But you’ll never get lucky with me hanging around you.”

  Stan kicked a pebble in front of his foot. “I’m not really looking for anything at the moment anyway.”

  “I can’t believe that Stan Morrison isn’t looking for anything.”

  He wiped his hand over his face. “I guess I have enough on my mind without adding another problem to the mix.”

  She grinned and bumped his shoulder lightly with her fist. “You know, I don’t care to be the single bridesmaid every guy is trying to nail at the wedding, either.” She grinned. “We’ll buffer each other against the horny and desperate.” She offered her hand.

  He took her offer. “Agreed.”

  * * * *

  Pete pulled John’s truck into the strip mall and parked. Sunlight reflected off the windshield of the car parked in front of him, aggravating an already pounding headache. Pete glanced around at the mini shopping center. A lot had changed over the last few years. The mini-supermarket had transformed into a mega market. The barbershop he used to frequent as a kid had closed, replaced by a fancy nail salon and spa. Even the old gas station across the street, owned by old man Gabe, had closed down. All that remained was a boarded-up building overcome with weeds.

  Change is inevitable, I guess. Funny how much the surroundings change, yet people remain unaltered, making the same damn mistakes. What a frustrating revelation. He hated himself for what he’d said to Cara. At the same time, he refused to sit around without a word and watch her throw her life away.

  After sobering up the other night, he knew where he went wrong. Temper had a funny way of spewing unedited truths. His father had discharged his fair share of blunt facts during his occasional parental visits. Words never came easy to a Cross, unless fueled with anger and a fair amount of booze. John had suggested flowers and groveling, lots and lots of groveling. Flowers seemed cliché. Begging for forgiveness, though entertaining, wouldn’t win back her favor, either. He needed something better. Like a front emblem for her beat-up hot rod. Nothing says sorry like a new piece of chrome.

  Pete shuffled across the parking lot toward the auto parts store on the corner. Heat and humidity stifled the air. Summer offered no subtle arrival this year. Instead, she bypassed the last week of spring, wrapped Heart Falls up in a deep dish, and baked the town in above-average temperatures. Pete didn’t have a problem with the heat. Years of serving in the desert made him immune to the discomfort. However, the moist air soaked into his knee and hip, agitating his injuries. Letting Stan knock him on his ass might have something to do with the ache as well, yet he’d die before he admitted the fact to anyone else.

  Familiar laughter rang out from the other end of the parking lot, making him come to a dead stop. He turned his head to the side, squinting from the glare reflecting off the rows of windshields. What he saw made his heart drop into his stomach, his Cara getting cozy with Stan Morrison. Pete clenched his fists, while his other hand hovered above the handle of the auto parts’ store door.

  Why should he go through this trouble of getting her a present? She didn’t appear distraught over what had happened. She settled in close to the enemy’s side, smiling and laughing, having a good old time.

  Screw this. Pete changed direction toward the liquor store a few doors down. Thank God he stopped by the bank this morning and tapped into his savings. He had a nice nest egg saved for emergencies and this was one hell of an emergency.

  He walked in and marched straight for a tower of whiskey lining the back wall. He grabbed the biggest bottle, stomped up to the register, and slammed his money on the counter. After getting his change, he left.

  He caught sight of Cara and Stan by her car. Stan leaned against the car door, his hand shaking hers. With a frown, Pete jumped in the truck. He backed out fast, almost hitting another car. He slammed the car in drive and tore out of the parking lot with one goal in mind. Rid his thoughts of Cara one shot of whiskey at a time.

  * * * *

  Pete wasn’t coming back. Cara finally accepted the fact when she arrived home and listened to the voice mail message he left on her machine. “I’ll be by to get my stuff tomorrow. Make it a point to disappear around twelve o’clock. You wouldn’t want me to catch you slumming with your boyfriend. I won’t be held responsible for my actions if I do.”

  He wouldn’t be responsible for his actions. She wanted to scream. Screw his warning and screw him. She should be warning him, because the thoughts flashing in her brain now were anything but civilized.

  He wants to come tomorrow afternoon.

  Well, tomorrow wasn’t soon enough for her. She wanted all traces of Pete out of her house as soon as possible. She needed to scrub her slate clean and cleanse her mind and heart of the obsession she’d wallowed in for the last six years. According to John’s last text, by eight o’clock his house would be empty. Pete and John planned to scope for women at a bar called Bunnies Bush located an hour away in Buffalo. Hope you have a ball, Pete, because I’ll be dancing the freedom dance like nobody’s watching.

  Tonight, Cara Sands planned to take her life back.

  Chapter 6

  Shrouded in darkness, the paved walkway leading to John’s side door gave Cara a premonition of doom. At least a splinter of illumination speared the bushes from the house next door. Otherwise, she’d trip over her own feet.

  “Thanks for the light, John. Stupid, lazy…” His security bulb must be out again. Some cop. Don’t you know robbers love a dark entrance?

  Cara shoved the stuffed backpack further up one shoulder only to have the immense duffle bag slip off the other side and edge down her strained biceps. Soggy from the drizzle, the cardboard box in her hands began to warp and cave in. She growled. The desire to throw Pete’s crap in the bushes and march her butt the heck out of there grew, fueled by her growing frustration and the heavy burden wreaking havoc on her muscles.

  How in the world did he hike with all this weighing him down, in the blazing heat of a desert, no less? An e
ntire new respect for our troops emerged with each labored step.

  If Pete wasn’t such a stubborn, self-righteous, pushy son of bitch…she wouldn’t be out here in the dark, breaking her back, smelling like a wet dog. She’d be home, lost in a steamy book, getting wet in a more enjoyable way.

  Light rain fell, a major change from the downpour she’d encountered a half hour ago. Mist coated her face and hair, forcing the waves back to primitive times, before the invention of a brush and hair gel. The moist strands clung to her face like leeches, while the wind smacked the rest of the unmanageable nest against her neck. Even the usual chorus of crickets remained quiet, the threat of thunder and lightning brewing in the distance, forcing their silence. She had better get this over with fast before the gentle drizzle once again morphed into a skin-peeling downpour.

  Walking up the concrete steps, Cara paused.

  Once she did this, once she dumped his stuff in the kitchen, anything they shared would be over. The bags weighing her down presented the last bridge between them. Without the link, there was no excuse for him to stop by, no reason for him to come back to her.

  Isn’t freedom what you wanted? You have to do this. Free yourself of him and the fantasy of a happily ever after. Put on your big girl panties, get in there, toss his crap in the kitchen, and get out.

  Cara propped the soggy box of toiletries on her knee with renewed determination. After playing with the deadbolt and uncooperative knob, Cara managed to get the door opened. She struggled to get through the doorway, his colossal bags hindering her progress. Darkness greeted her as well as a sense of sadness.

  “Well…well, if it isn’t Cara Sands.” The deep voice shattered the silence.