by Raven Scott
“Hey, Jackie. What’s up?” Holding the phone to my ear, I hold my breath in anticipation. “I just got done with a painting. It’s gotta dry before I can ship it out, but I’ve got some time.”
“Yeah. I was wondering if you wanted to meet up for dinner, actually. There’s something I wanna talk to you about.” Her bland tone set off alarm bells in my head, and I scrunched up my nose in distaste. Before I could say no, she continued, brisking past my hesitation easily. “Meet me at the Portsmouth in an hour.”
Hers wasn’t a question, but Jackie hung up before I could reply, and I scowled lightly at my phone screen. Rubbing my neck and shoulders, I stood up and shook my head wildly.
“Sounds like she wants to meet up.” Bruiser’s gruff words earn him a curt nod, and I glanced down at myself absently. Did I want to change? How much effort should I put into this on the high chance my sister just tries to convince me to break up with Bruiser? “Looks like you don’t wanna go.”
“I think she’s gonna ambush me. I don’t really wanna go, but she’ll get all pissy about it and try harder.” Mumbling more to myself than Bruiser, I heave a tired sigh; I hadn’t even seen Jackie, and she exhausted me. “I’m just gonna go like this, so if she makes a big deal about it, I won’t have to feel like I need to ride it out because I put effort into it.”
“You’re sexier in your painting clothes anyway, baby.” He smirked sexily, slipping his phone into his jean pocket. “Want me to tag along?”
“No, but if I’m gonna be going to the Portsmouth, I’ll get you something to go.” I frowned darkly; Portsmouth was too expensive for my blood. Their appetizers were, like, twenty bucks! Bruiser chuckled to draw my attention, pulling out his wallet to hand me his debit card. My face twisted beyond my control, but I didn’t protest as I wandered to my room to grab my purse and keys. “What do you want me to get you?”
“Their fajitas are endless, right? Get me both of those.” His call from the living room tugs up my mouth and memories flood my mind’s eye as I drop onto the foot of the bed. I shove my feet into my sneakers, not bothering with socks, before retying my hair high up on my head. Foreboding opened a pit in my stomach, and I frowned as my memories turned dark.
“Jackie’s been complaining the whole time, but I guess not many people agree with her if she wants to have a face-to-face conversation.” Speaking up, I emerged from the short hallway to cast Bruiser a questioning look. “I should put my foot down, shouldn’t I?”
“Your sister’s a pushy, demanding, and slightly controlling bitch, but it’s pretty obvious it’s because she loves you. I think, if nothing else, you can always tell her that if this is a mistake, you’ll acknowledge you were wrong and tell her she was right. People like her love being told they were right.” Smiling broadly, I thoroughly enjoyed Bruiser’s conflicted expression before he shrugged carelessly. “Either way, you need to tell her to shut up if she doesn’t like it. You’ve already told her to tone it down, or you won’t wanna see her anymore. The next step would be backing up your threat. I think she thinks you won’t do it because her intentions are good, but the fact of the matter is intent only matters so much, and her doing what she’s doing the way she is, is more telling.”
“Um . . . okay. That’s a lot of words for an ‘actions speak louder than words’ kind of guy.” He rolled his eyes with a chuff, and I giggle a little as I shoulder my purse. “I’ll call you and tell you what happens.”
“Or you could just tell me when you come back. Give me some time to prepare.” Reaching to elbow him, I breeze by as Bruiser shoots me a shit-eating smirk.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Nicole
“Oh, Jackie!” Holding up my hand, I waved to get my sister’s attention, and anxiety seared through me when she turned. She wasn’t smiling, didn’t even look upset, and I gripped my purse straps tightly with both hands. Walking up to her, I held my breath as my heartbeat wildly against my ribs. “What’s up with that face? Did something happen?”
“Let’s wait and sit before we talk.” Clutching a glittery tote tighter when she spoke, Jackie frowned at me as a fire began to emerge in her eyes. Whatever it is, she’s pissed. I can’t open my mouth before the hostess calls us, and I followed my sister to our table on the terrace. The string lights made the atmosphere intimate, but to me, it was ominous.
I knew the terraces and balconies were where people went for special occasions, but this one wasn’t good.
Seating myself across from Jackie, I held my purse in my lap as my knees bounced. My legs tightened with foreboding, ready to carry me out of here at the slightest whiff of trouble. Jackie put her bag on the table, pulled out a plain, manilla folder, and slid it across the smooth, stained wood surface. Eyeballing the surprisingly thick folder, I twiddle and pick my fingertips under the table.
“What’s in that?” Jackie pushes the folder closer to me, and the slight breeze picks up the corner. “Jackie . . .”
“Just read it, Nicole.” I tensed, goosebumps sweeping up my arms and across my chest at Jackie’s snap. Sweat slicked my palms as I grab the folder and flip it open stiffly. My heart leaped into my throat at the long, long list of court related records. All of them were from Canada, and the blood drained from my face.
My vision blurred, and I shut the folder before any words became blaringly readable. Setting the folder down before I dropped it, I clenched my hands into tight fists along the smooth surface. Squeezing my eyes shut, blood drummed viciously in my ears, drowning out even my own thoughts. I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to breathe, before giving up when nothing forced its way past the lump in my throat.
“I’m not doing this, Jackie.” Rage rasped my tone, my voice shaking as I stood up sluggishly. Jackie opened her mouth, but I held up a trembling, cold palm as her face turned beet red. “If you say one word, I’ll punch you in the face.”
Jackie didn’t like that, but the shocked gasps filtering through my narrowed scope of comprehension were testament that I wasn’t as quiet as I thought I was. Grabbing the folder, I stuff it haphazardly into my purse to turn on my heel and walk into the restaurant. My eyes burned, and my lungs wailed for air as betrayal crushed my heart.
Jackie looked Bruiser up. Could Americans even get Canadian arrest records? Was that what she was doing these past few weeks while giving me space to think about how big a ‘mistake’ I was making? Trying her damnedest to fucking undermine my relationship with Bruiser because she didn’t like him?
She didn’t even know him. And maybe Jackie was right to be wary because of what she did know, but didn’t she trust me?
“Nicole! Nicole, wait!” A hand grabbed my elbow, and I whipped around to shove my knuckles into Jackie’s eye socket. She cried out shrilly, her body crumpling over a table that was still covered in dirty dishes and half-empty glasses. The entire restaurant froze, all eyes on me, and Jackie clutched her face as shock replaced her misguided righteousness.
“You bitch!” Seething furiously, I shook as Jackie stared, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, with water and soda sticking her hair to her shoulders and back. Bits of food clung to her shirt, and my lip curled in disgust. “We’re done, you understand? Done! How fucking dare you! After I told you . . . I’m done trying to placate you and ignore that you really are a pushy, nosy, controlling bitch that bullies me into doing things your way. Don’t fucking talk to me anymore. If I decide to contact you, I will, but don’t you fucking call me. Don’t text me. Don’t email me. Nothing! We’re over!”
I threw out my arms to show how serious I was as panic flooded Jackie’s face. Turning on my heel, I stomped out of the restaurant and left her there as apoplexy tinged my vision red. The beautiful evening was wasted on me, and I bristled from the intense emotions rampaging through me.
Opening my purse, I sniffled harshly as tears dripped to splash off my throbbing knuckles. I couldn’t walk and find my phone at the same time, and my knees wobbled dangerously. Clenching my jaw hard, my teeth ached in their soc
kets as I struggled to pick up my phone. My fingers refused to bend, and I shudder violently while trying to tap my pin code into the screen.
“C’mon . . . d-don’t be like this . . .” Sputtering harshly, I blinked back my tears to see clearer, and color flashed at the corner of my vision. My head whipped up, and relief slumped my shoulders when I saw it wasn’t Jackie coming to try to talk to me. The hostess that’d led us in scanned me with concerned, brown eyes, and I pointed awkwardly at my purse. “C-can you get my phone and . . . and put in my pin? I have to call my boyfriend, but I can’t . . . my hand . . .”
“Sure.” She didn’t offer me to talk or anything, and I sniffed hard and wiped my face with my abused hand. My knuckles were already swelling like balloons, and I winced when she bumped my stiff fingers. “Who’s he in your contacts?”
“Bruiser.” She taps around to his name, and I tense when I realize Bruiser has no way of getting to me. His bike was still in Margot, and his truck was somewhere repurposed as a toilet for birds. But he’ll come. I know it. Conviction eased the fiery pain in my hand, and I managed a few calming, deep breaths as the line rang on speaker.
“Hey, baby. I guess we’re not gonna have the fajitas, huh? You okay?” I almost choked on my sobs, but Bruiser continued before I could squeak out a word past the dense lump in my throat. “I’m almost there. Your sister’s husband blabbed on what she was gonna do. He showed up a couple of minutes after you left.”
I saw stars leaning against the brick support structure between giant bay windows to sink to my butt. The hostess crouched next to me, holding my phone out to her, and I gasped for air.
“Hi, um, I work at the Portsmouth. I think she might’ve broken her hand when she punched her sister. You’re gonna probably have to take her to the hospital.” Her voice sounded far away, and I set my head back against the wall as I slowly gathered myself. “If you want, I can put your order in to go?”
“I appreciate it, yeah. I’ll be there in ten-ish.” At least Sam has my back. Jackie was doing this for herself, to be right, or just to not admit she’s wrong. To bully me into doing what she wants like she always did.
And now, I saw it for what it was. Jackie wasn’t just abrasive and demanding, and I couldn’t just indulge her and go about my own thing anymore. A wop-wop of the folder in my purse caught my attention as it resisted the breeze, and I pulled it out with my good hand.
Popping the folder open, I wiped my face with my uninjured hand to focus with all my might. The top record was Bruiser’s accepted dual citizenship fifteen years ago, and everything below was older. There were arrest records, jail time, and dates when he was taken to the hospital after his mother tried to kill him . . . the several times she tried to kill him.
I couldn’t tear my eyes off the pages if I tried as I flipped them one by one. My eyes ached fiercely, but I couldn’t make my lids close. The breeze stung my face, and my trembling, abused hand stung with pins needles as my fingertips brushed the page.
On the third paper was his picture, but it was from years ago. Obviously, it was a mug shot when he didn’t have a beard and was slimmer, at least in his face. Bruiser’s eyes were lackluster and glazed as if he was super high on something, but I could see that he was empty even in the photo. Something had happened, and it sucked his soul out.
At least, temporarily. She was my mother, and I killed her for all the times she tried to kill me. Bruiser never said when it happened, though, but I knew. I knew. Thumbing his picture, I frowned sadly, and my lips puff out with the makings of a sob. Turning the page hastily, I gulped down my cries as a long list of social services reports, no more than a few sentences long.
Shutting the folder, I closed my eyes and covered my mouth, but the words bombarded me in the darkness. Did Jackie think this was proof Bruiser was a bad person? Exhaling a shuddering breath through dry, stinging nostrils, I squeezed my eyes shut tighter.
Jackie sprung this on me like there was absolutely no way I would keep seeing Bruiser if I knew, but I did know.
“Nicole . . .” Bruiser’s deep, gruff tone wrapped around me like a shield, alleviating my dense, heavy emotions off of my heart and head. He crouched down, and I cracked my eyes open. He panted hard, his face flushed, sweat soaking his t-shirt and hand when he cupped my cheek tenderly. Sitting across from me, he looked away, and the world lost focus again as my brain scrambled to come to terms with the present. “Thanks for helping her. Here, for the fajitas.” Bruiser’s voice echoed through the room. I looked over to him and saw him handing a woman cash.
“Bruiser.” Mumbling softly, I hold up my mangled hand as sharp eyes capture mine. “I can’t. My hand hurts.”
“I’ll feed you, then. Don’t worry about anything, baby. We’re gonna be stuck at the ER for a couple of hours, anyway, before anyone gets around to your hand.” Very gently, Bruiser took my broken hand in his palms and frowned under tightly knit brows. “Your sister’s got a thick skull, doesn’t she? It’s definitely broken.”
Chapter Thirty
Nicole
“Hey.” My head snapped up, and Cole waved from the doorway of my small room before leaning on the archway leisurely. “Heard what happened. You okay?”
“I just got the x-ray done. It’s definitely broken. How’d you know I was down here?” I knew Parker was upstairs, in a coma, and Cole chuckled lightly. Wandering into the exam room, he sat next to me on the cushioned table to lean back on his arms and sigh.
“Bruiser’s my best friend. You think he wouldn’t tell me you were here and why?” Peering at Cole, I wondered if he’d always looked so haggard. Dark bags hung under his eyes, and his upbeat tone sounded forced to me. Puffing out my lips thoughtfully, I tensed when Cole met my gaze to shake his head. “I’m good. I mean, as good as I can be. Anyway, I’m here for you, not to lament my own problems that aren’t really even my problems. Bruiser told me what was in that folder.”
“Oh, yeah . . .” I winced as images flashed in my mind’s eye, holding up my abused hand. No one had gotten around to giving me a brace or anything, and my fingers twitched without my moving them. “She was way out of line. I looked it up. Canada’s arrest records and stuff aren’t public. She had to actively search for them, maybe come up with a lie about why she needed them, and track people down that could access them. That’s not okay.”
“Spyder, Bruiser, and I have been friends since we were teenagers, way back when his uncle first sent him here.” My lips parted in surprise, but Cole held up a hand to stop me. “He was an illegal alien before obtaining citizenship through his father. Anyway, Spyder’s uncle and Bruiser’s Uncle had this weird thing going on, so Bruiser got sent here to learn some new tricks and make nice.”
“Well, it obviously lasted a long time?” Cole nodded at my probing, and I folded my legs under me as he stroked his sternum and neck absently.
“Bruiser was supposed to go back. He was never supposed to stay in America, let alone get citizenship. His uncle was pissed, threatened to disown him, the whole shebang. But Bruiser refused to go back until he learned his mom had gotten kicked out of the mental hospital up there.” Why’s Cole telling me this? But I didn’t have an opportunity to ask when he continued almost listlessly, his voice holding a myriad of memories. “He went up to kill her. Shot her dead and turned himself in. Really, for us as teenagers, he just disappeared for a few months. In the end, they decided he had the man’s equivalent to ‘battered woman syndrome’ where they basically acknowledge that he was abused almost his whole life and that they were gonna treat it as self-defense.”
“Why are you telling me? He told me the basics. I don’t need the whole story.” Cole cracked a small, sympathetic smile at me, and I frowned lightly. My mind whirled, and he sat up to rub his palms together. “Why are you here, Cole?”
“I just told you, Bruiser’s my best friend. I came to check up on you, and he told me about the folder your sister managed to get her grubby hands on, so I figured I’d elaborate on the situation.
Your sister’s not wrong to think Bruiser’s dangerous. He is. A lot more than I think you realize, Nicole. But where your sister went wrong was thinking that being dangerous equates to being heartless.” My frown deepened, and Cole reached to pat my knee before the door opened. Bruiser immediately scowled at his best friend, and Cole stood up to stretch his arms high over his head. “Well, I’ll be upstairs waiting for Sleeping Beauty to wake up. Doctors say it should be any time now . . . even though it’s been that way for a few days.”
“Your sister call you at all?” Cole shook his head, and Bruiser grunted lowly as his friend left the room. Shutting the door, he locked eyes with me before they slipped down to my swollen, purpling hand. “They haven’t given you anything for that yet?”
“Not yet, but they should be back in a second.” A soft knock punctuated my statement, and I peeked around Bruiser as the doctor stood in the doorway. “See, I told you.”
“Yeah. What’re we lookin’ at here?” The doctor shut the door behind him, and I straightened as Bruiser posed his question.
“Well, you have two broken knuckles and a fractured finger, so we’re going to put you in a brace. You should be fine in six to eight weeks as long as you avoid using your dominant hand as much as possible. Fortunately, you can get a topical pain relief cream that’ll help since it’s all localized pain. Are you her boyfriend?” Directing the question at Bruiser, the doctor mimicked his nod, and intelligent, brown eyes met mine. “You’re pregnant. I assume you’ll want to make an appointment with your OB/GYN to figure out exactly how far along you are and what steps to take next. If you don’t have one, I can recommend a few good doctors I know.”
“What?” The silence was deafening, not even my blood drummed in my ears, and an awkward, dry giggle escaped me. “No, I have an implant. I can’t be pregnant.”
