The Day She Cried

by K. Webster

  She turns her head, barely, and glances at me. Her cheeks are puffy and red. And that goddamned bottom lip is swollen and quivering.

  “Go away,” she chokes out.

  “No,” I snarl. “Give me that picture. It doesn’t belong to you.”

  Her features morph from sad to angry. “It’s mine. She gave it to me.”

  “Give. It. To. Me.” I am not playing these bullshit games with her.

  “It’s mine,” she hisses.

  “So help me. Give it to me before I make you give it to me,” I warn, my voice quaking with rage.

  “No!”

  Overwhelmed by fury, I pounce on her. The feisty little shit manages to claw my neck as she attempts to squirm away from me. I pin her slight body with my much heavier one and snag both her wrists with my hands. She writhes and screams, tears steadily rolling down her cheeks.

  “Fucking stop!” I yell inches from her face.

  But she doesn’t.

  She keeps fighting me.

  At this point, I just want to look at the picture. I relax on her and rest my cheek on her tits. She’s strong but not enough to keep me from bringing the picture closer so I can inspect it. I wish I’d turned on a light so I could see better. Even in the darkness, I can make out my sister’s features. What has my heart speeding up is the look on Raven’s face. I’ve never seen it before.

  “She’s smiling,” I mutter.

  Raven always smiled but never like this. Never with warmth and joy and happiness. My chest seems to squeeze to the point of pain.

  “She was so beautiful.” Her voice is soft and full of longing. I almost feel fucking sorry for her.

  “Until you took her from me.”

  Her body quivers as she cries. All fight has left her. I release her hands but don’t move. My eyes are fixated on my sister. Courtney doesn’t move the photo away, but she also doesn’t remove her death grip.

  “Why haven’t you come to the shop? Why haven’t you been going to the diner?” I demand, my voice hoarse.

  “I’m having some bad days,” she breathes.

  I close my eyes for a moment and inhale her scent. She smells like fucking flowers or some shit. And I hate that I like it.

  “Why?”

  “You know why,” she clips out.

  “Because I gave you some shit the other day at my house?”

  She exhales loudly and it tickles my hair. “Because I saw her room. I was reminded of her. It was too much.”

  “Boo fucking hoo,” I grumble, but the normal venom isn’t there.

  When her fingers touch my hair, I tense. I want to yell at her and tell her to leave me the fuck alone. But instead, I keep staring at Raven’s happy smile. It fucks with my head. And with Courtney stroking my hair, I feel oddly calm.

  “I hate you for what you did to her,” I murmur. I run my thumb along the picture. “But this I could never hate you for.” Somehow, Courtney Moss, dumbass cheerleader, made my sister smile like she’s never smiled before.

  Her fingers rest on the back of my neck and instead of wanting to brush her away, I want to ask her to not stop. I’ve felt so disconnected from life. Everyone I’m connected to dies anyway. First Mom. Then Raven. Most recently, Dad. Although I’m not as torn up as I should be. His liver failure brought a little peace into my world because he died. The fucker was no longer making my life a living hell.

  “I’m taking the picture, though,” I mutter. I lift up and we lock eyes.

  She shakes her head.

  “Courtney, I’m taking it.”

  She starts struggling again. Her legs kick out and I find my body wedged between them. I manage to pin her wrists once more.

  “Please don’t take it,” she whispers. Her blue eyes flicker with emotion and she bites on her bottom lip. Fuck. That lip makes my cock hard as fuck every time. She widens her eyes the moment she realizes my dick is stone between us.

  I lean forward and rest my forehead to hers. My hips slightly buck against my will. Her soft body feels too perfect pressed against my hard one.

  “I hate you,” I mutter even as my lips seek hers.

  She lets out a soft gasp the moment my mouth covers hers. I greedily kiss her supple lips and then search her tongue out. A whimper escapes her and then she’s kissing me back. Unsure but eager at times. When I grind against her again, she lets out a moan so desperate I think I’ll nut in my jeans.

  I close my eyes and tear my mouth from hers. This feels like the worst goddamned betrayal to Raven. Literally in bed with the enemy. So fucked up.

  “I’m taking the picture,” I say with a groan, my hips still rocking against her.

  “No.”

  “I’m going to take everything from you.”

  “You can have everything. Just not that.”

  I grit my teeth and rub against her, seeking relief that only this monster can give. I’m too fucking weak around her because I’m once again kissing her. She’s like a damn drug. I know she’s bad for me, but I’m quickly growing a need for it.

  She’ll fucking destroy me like she destroyed my sister.

  That thought is enough to have me pulling away again.

  “I’m taking it,” I inform her, finally finding my resolve.

  She begins screaming obscenities at me while she struggles. I nearly have her fingers pried apart when the light bursts on.

  “WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING? GET OFF MY DAUGHTER!”

  I jerk away from Courtney in time to see her mother charging for me. She shoves me away from her daughter and I scramble out of her reach on the other side of the bed. My dick is still hard as a rock and Courtney lies there with a look of shock on her face. Her legs are spread apart and I don’t miss the wet spot on her pink panties.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  “You!” her mom screams. “You!”

  Shit, she definitely recognizes me.

  I take the moment where Courtney is distracted and snag the picture from her grip. I charge past her mom and stomp down the stairs. Her mom is still flipping the fuck out upstairs. Courtney is saying things, but I can’t hear what they are.

  “I’m calling the cops!” her mom screams.

  That, I do hear.

  Motherfucker.

  The cops never came.

  I waited for two whole days, but nobody ever showed up at the shop. Including Courtney. But then, today, she waltzed in wearing her tight little black tank top and cutoff shorts. That shit is not work appropriate when we have a shop full of horny men. I don’t like the way they all look at her like they might get some.

  She’s mine.

  All of her.

  They won’t get one damn piece.

  What I plan on doing with her is another story. I want to make her suffer and remember my sister—to remember what she did to her.

  She walks past me and doesn’t even look my way. Instead, she heads straight for the supply room. Her round ass jiggles as she moves. Yep, she needs to cover that shit up.

  “Do your jobs,” I bellow to a few guys checking her out as she walks off.

  I stalk after her as I unbutton my uniform shirt. I’ve just peeled it off by the time I reach the supply room. She’s already bending over to retrieve a bucket of parts, giving me a prime view of her ass.

  “Wear this. Every time. No more of…” I wave at her. “That.”

  She turns my way and frowns. “Of what?”

  “Looking like a hooker. It’s distracting my guys.”

  Her brows crash together and she huffs. Hello, wolf. “I am not a hooker.”

  I toss her the shirt. “Whatever. Wear this shit every time. Got it?”

  She purses her lips together and nods as she slips my shirt on over her tank. I’ll be damned if it doesn’t make her look hotter than before. My shirt hits her thighs just below her shorts so that it looks like she’s wearing nothing underneath.

  Jesus fucking Christ.

  Her fingers effortlessly fly through th
e buttons. She places her hands on her hips and narrows her eyes at me. “Better?”

  “Good enough,” I grit out.

  I turn and stalk away, but before I exit, she stops me.

  “Rome…”

  God, I hate how she fucking says my name. It’s like some mental mind trick shit that goes straight to my cock.

  “What?”

  “I told my mom what we were doing was consensual. She thought it was much worse.”

  I look over my shoulder. Big fucking mistake. Her blue eyes are wide and innocent. Sparkling with a need I’ve never seen from her.

  “I was taking what belonged to me,” I snap. “We weren’t doing anything.”

  Her cheeks flash bright pink and she gives me a sweet smile that I can’t help but be affected by. It makes my heart hammer in my chest.

  “I wanted to,” she breathes, her eyes darting down to the floor and then back to mine. Shy and unsure.

  I clench my jaw and shake my head. “Well, I sure as hell didn’t.”

  Her face crumples and I like that look a whole lot better. It’s one I understand and can control.

  “Liar,” she accuses under her breath.

  I don’t stick around long enough to tell her she’s right.

  Courtney

  When I walk into the shop, it’s once again empty. I’m tired and crabby, but mostly, I want to talk to Rome. He’s hunched over an old looking car as he tinkers with something under the hood. Now that he’s not wearing his uniform shirt, his back is on full display. The wife beater may as well be painted on him because it’s stretched to the limit and molds perfectly against his flesh. His shoulders are broad—beautifully curved, lean muscles.

  “Hey,” I greet as I approach him much like one would a wounded animal. Sometimes I see flickers of want in his eyes. Most times, I see hate.

  He tenses and something clangs on the metal. After he sets a tool down, he grabs a rag and wipes at his hands before turning around. His jaw is clenched and his glare is unwavering.

  “What?”

  I wince. “I…I loved that picture.”

  “Yeah? And I loved my sister, but you took that away from me.” His dark brow arches as he challenges me with one look.

  “Want to know the story behind that picture?” My words are quiet, but he hears them. My words affect him. His tight features relax and I can see the questions dancing in his eyes.

  “Tell me.”

  “Ask nicely,” I say back and cock my head to the side.

  He tosses the rag to the floor and cracks his neck. The wild look in his green eyes promises violence and fury and madness. And yet I stay rooted in my spot, waiting for him to attack. With long, purposeful strides, he stalks my way. I almost stumble away but hold my ground at the last minute. His hard chest bumps against me. I inhale his scent—grease with a mix of his cologne. It does things to my insides.

  “Tell me, sheep.”

  I tilt my head up to find his eyes darting all over me, as if he’ll find the answers on my flesh. Our mouths are just inches apart and I wish he’d kiss me again. When his gaze falls to my lips, I lick them. A growl rumbles in his throat, vibrating its way straight to my core.

  His strong hand grips my jaw, but I refuse to run from him.

  “Ask nicely,” I murmur.

  He runs his thumb along my jaw near my ear, sending shivers rippling through me. “Please.”

  His eyes widen at his plea and I gape at him.

  “Okay,” I whisper. “Can we go somewhere?”

  He gives me a clipped nod. “Wash up. I know a place.”

  “You’d think I’d get tired of the burgers from Hamby’s, but I could eat them every day,” I chirp as I devour the rest of my food. My mouth has been rambling since the moment we picked up food and headed to his destination. I’m not even sure if he’s listening to me. “If Whitney knew I ate carbs, she’d have a shit fit.”

  “She controlled your diet too, sheep?”

  Okay, so he is listening.

  I chance a look at him. His eyes are ahead on the road as he drives his loud car. “Well, being cheer captain, it was her duty to make sure we ate healthy and kept in shape.” The words, now, though, sound lame.

  “She controlled you and everyone else because she liked it. Don’t bullshit yourself,” he utters with a disgusted shake to his head.

  “She was a bitch,” I agree with a dark laugh.

  His lips twitch and for a second I think he might smile. “I’m pretty sure she’s still a bitch.”

  I’m nodding in agreement as he parks his car beside a picnic table. Lake Borden. I haven’t been here since I was a kid. Dad used to take Mom and me here. Once he passed away, she said the lake was too dirty and we never came back.

  “Come on,” he orders.

  I climb out and follow him down a pathway. Tonight, the air is chilly, warning of an early fall, and I shiver. Once we make it to the shore on a soft grassy area, Rome sits down and stares out at the lake. I kneel down beside him but face his side so I can see him better. In the moonlight, he’s more handsome than ever. His raven on his neck moves slowly as the vein beneath it pulsates.

  “Rome…” I murmur. “I’m sorry. I never meant—”

  He jerks his head my way and snarls at me. “The story. Not this.”

  I flinch but nod quickly. “Okay. Umm…”

  As he glares, I let my mind slip back to that moment.

  PoetPrincess99: That is not your favorite movie. You’re ridiculous.

  I laugh and push pause on said movie so I don’t miss the good parts.

  LonelyLogan69: It is my favorite movie. Have you even seen it? How can you dis something you’ve never even seen?

  PoetPrincess99: It’s a kid movie.

  LonelyLogan69: I watched it last year when I was seventeen. A kid. Does that count? LOL. But all kidding aside, it’s a really good story. Watch it and tell me you hate it. I dare you.

  She disappears for a while and I wake up in the middle of the night to my phone buzzing.

  PoetPrincess99: You asshole!

  I giggle in the darkness as I reply.

  LonelyLogan69: What? Why?

  PoetPrincess99: I almost cried.

  LonelyLogan69: Your heart is dead and cold. That movie made me bawl the first time I saw it.

  And it’s true. Maleficent was sweet but also sad.

  PoetPrincess99: Sometimes you’re more of a girl than me.

  LonelyLogan69: You liked it, though. Admit it.

  A photo comes through and she’s smiling. I love her smiles. Her real ones. I’m addicted to them. She’s sent me so many of them now, I’ve lost count. No, that’s a lie. I have twenty-seven pictures of her smiling. Twenty-eight now.

  PoetPrincess99: I loved it. It was beautiful.

  LonelyLogan69: So are you.

  “This is so fucked up,” Rome bellows, startling me from my retelling of that night.

  I flinch and frown at him. “Which part?”

  “You. Her. All of it. I don’t fucking understand!” He launches to his feet and stomps through the grass away from me back toward the car. I scramble after him. Before he reaches the car door, I grab at the back of his shirt. He swivels around and grips me by my shoulders. I’m backed into the side of the car and the metal presses into my ass as his hands slide down.

  “You wanted to know the story. That’s the story,” I say gently, searching his face, hoping to make eye contact.

  He tilts his head up to the sky and his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. I want to comfort him, but he has my biceps locked in his grip. Wiggling from his hold, I manage to wrap my arms around his solid middle. He tenses but doesn’t push me away. I’m forcing a hug on him and he hasn’t rejected me yet. I press my cheek to his chest and let out a small sigh.

  “Can you tell me one?”

  “You don’t deserve to hear it,” he snaps, but he’s still not moving away. When his fingers absently stroke through my hair, I close my eyes and inhale him.


  “Will you tell me anyway?”

  His chin rests on the top of my head and he lets out a ragged sigh. “When we were in the eighth grade, our mom died.”

  I squeeze him harder. “I’m sorry.”

  “Stop saying that,” he grumbles. “It doesn’t change anything. It’s just fucking annoying.”

  My lips part to repeat those same words and I quickly snap my mouth shut.

  He lets out another sigh. “I’d lost my head a bit. Cried all the damn time. Started fights with my dad because getting the shit kicked out of me felt better than having my heart ripped to shreds.”

  Tears pool in my eyes because I understand the heartache of losing a parent.

  “One day, as I lay curled up on the kitchen floor nursing a bloody nose my dad gave me, Raven walked in and sat down next to me. She was always so fucking happy. Smiles and warmth and positivity. Motherfucking sunshine. I was this…I was this dark storm.” He pauses and his body grows tense. “She wrote me a poem.”

  My lips curl into a smile. A real one. “Her poems are the best.”

  “Walls. Shadows. Words,” he recites from memory. “You can hide behind them. But I’ll find you. Peekaboo.” He grips my hair and tilts my head back until I’m staring into his pained eyes. “I see you. I see you. I see you.” His brows furrow together. “I told her it wasn’t a poem because it didn’t rhyme.”

  “Did you know poems don’t have to rhyme?” I ask, my voice shaking with emotion.

  He smiles—broad and beautiful and utterly perfect. “That’s what she said too.”

  I grin because I love how into her poetry she was. Every single one she told me, I cherished and memorized. Just like Rome did. Raven had that effect on people. I wish I’d seen it sooner.

  His smile falls and for a moment, he seems so young. Not hard or angry or a total mystery to me. For one moment, he’s soft. And then his lips are on mine again as if they belong there. His tongue pushes past my lips, demanding entrance, and I accept him. I taste and suck and try to swallow him whole.

  We kiss for God knows how long.

  I lose sense of time and reality.

  I simply melt in his strong arms.