"Both," she replies with haste. "Can you...um...stir the sauce? It's the pot on the right." I walk up to the stove and grab the wooden spoon lying in a puddle of red sauce on the counter. Spaghetti, sauce, meatballs, and what is that flour being used for? I may not want to know.
"What are you concocting here?" I ask, acting as though I haven't pieced most of it together.
"Spaghetti and meatballs," she says with a sigh. "I suck."
"Nah, you got this," I tell her. Lenore taught me to cook when I was young. She always said that a man who knew how to cook would never have a problem finding a woman to keep happy. I don't know how much truth is behind that since most of the women I have met couldn't care less if I cook, considering their one and only need, but maybe someone out there finds a man in the kitchen as attractive as a man slugging beers in a bar.
I help Haven out, seasoning both the sauce and the meatballs a bit, then mixing it all together.
A bell chimes and she runs to the oven with hot mitts to retrieve another item of food. "Cookies," she says, pulling down the oven door. "Oh, I mean…black cookies."
"My favorite kind." I give her a wink and take the hot mitts from her hands to grab the cookies for her and place the baking sheet on the counter. "You didn't have to go through all this trouble, you know?" I remove the mitts and drape them over the sink.
"I wanted to," she says. "We're celebrating." Celebrating. The only thing we should be celebrating is the simple fact that I didn't take her dad out with one quick swing today.
"This is very thoughtful," I tell her.
We dish out the food and sit side by side at the island, both taking small quiet bites. As it’s the first good meal I've had in longer than I can remember, part of me wants to moan with gratitude, but I do my best to conceal the satisfaction growing within me.
"So things are going to get better for you now, right?" she asks.
Never. "Hopefully, the extra cash will definitely help out."
"I know he can be a little rough around the edges, but if you can get past that, money is money."
That is what I have been telling myself all day long. "True."
"You don't seem as happy as I thought you might be," she says, cleaning up our plates and shuttling them to the sink. "I'm sorry if I was out of line with how quickly I executed my idea, but…last night was kind of eye-opening."
"I tried to warn you," I tell her as I place the cookie sheet down on the counter.
"As much as I hate what my father has done, at least I know that some of the money he stole is going to a good place now. It kind of made things work in my head. I don't know."
I'm not sure I understand how a thief could procreate such a loving person. Clearly, Haven’s mother hasn't put her foot down, and I’d find it hard to believe that she isn't aware of what her husband has done. With that in mind, it makes her just as big of an asshole.
I help Haven with the last of the dishes, studying her as she appears lost in thought. "I'm kind of surprised you agreed to come over tonight," she says.
"Why is that?"
"Well, it kind of seems like you regret every decision you make about me...like every kiss is a mistake, and every glance that lasts longer than half a second should never have happened.
"That's not entirely true," I tell her.
"Is it just me, then?" she asks. The look in her eyes kind of guts me. For however long she has been considering this possibility, it seems like the idea of it is killing her.
I grab Haven by her elbows and pull her in against my chest. Her heart is pounding against me, and I want to make her insecurities go away as I press my chin down on the top of her head. None of this is because of who she is. I like who she is. I like what she looks like. I like who she wants to become and who she doesn't want to become. We don't choose who we're born to, and I've been dumb enough to forget this applies to more people than myself.
I pull back a bit and press my fingers under chin, forcing her to look up at me with a now familiar star-gazing glimmer in her eyes. "This has everything to do with me. Don't think for one second that I go more than a few minutes without thinking about you when we're not together." I lean down and kiss her softly as her arms lock around my neck. Being with her has been the one and only thing that has made me smile in the past few years. With all of the meaningless activity in my life, to feel something different has made me see things a little clearer, and I wish I could explain this to her, but it's hard enough to understand the depth of my own pain, never mind explaining it to another person.
Lost in thought, I find myself walking her backward while I maintain control of her lips. I know where we're headed, and I've avoided it out of fear of what could come of it, but I'm confident now, knowing the only thing that could change for me is that I might fall a little harder for Haven than I already have. I'm okay with that.
The hallway blurs by as we close ourselves into her bedroom, finding the bed as if we have fallen carelessly into a cloud of pillows. I feel nothing around me, only the current growing between us. "Please don't change your mind," she mutters into my mouth. I know what I've forced her to think, especially after she has made certain assumptions about my track record, but she's different, which is why I have refused to treat her like another sleazy chick from the bar. I don't think she sees it that way, though. I believe she has been comparing herself to those other women, which is crazy in my mind. In the past, I’ve used alcohol and sex to numb the pain, but this is different. What I have with her, is healing the pain.
"I would only change my mind if I didn't want this.” I find myself breathing heavily against her, feeling a need I haven’t felt in forever. "You have to know that thoughts of you…like this...have consumed more of my time than I'd like to admit to, and that lipstick you have on tonight—the way it makes your eyes sparkle—you've turned me into a helpless man, Haven."
"The lipstick, huh?” Her cheeks blush as her eyes struggle to focus on mine.
"Yeah, you could say I’m a lips-guy. I just have a thing for beautiful red lips," I whisper into Haven’s ear.
"Raine, wait," she says, stopping me from moving an inch. "I should tell you something." With a struggle to breathe, she continues, "I'm not—I mean—ugh…I hate having to admit this, but—"
"It's your first time," I tell her. "It's okay. I'll be gentle with you. But, if you want to wait, that's fine too."
Haven’s long exhale relaxes both of us. "Please, don't make me wait any longer." Adhering to her plea, I do my best to take my time as I kiss every inch of her face and her neck. While my hand explores other areas more thoroughly, I slowly drag her tiny running shorts down the length of her silky legs. Heavy breaths and whimpers pass through her lips as the tips of my fingers make contact with the flesh beneath her laced panties. I lower my mouth to her waist, pushing her shirt up with my nose until I reach her matching bra that is concealing absolutely nothing. Waves of desire run through me, and my movements become more heated. Thanks to my recent abstinence, my patience for foreplay quickly seeps away. I remove her bra, flinging it across the room and nearly tear her panties trying to remove the last article of clothing from her body. Haven's fingers are sliding up my sides painfully slow, and she pulls my shirt over my head as I kick my pants off while grabbing a condom out of my back pocket.
Teasing my fingertips down the center of her core, down between her legs where wetness welcomes my fingers, I carefully caress her and prime her for what's next, knowing it'll probably hurt like hell.
“You okay still?” I mutter against her ear.
“Mmm,” she cries.
I dip another finger inside of her, melting against the tightness encompassing me. Moans echo through the air and her body jerks up and down, grinding against my hand. “Oh my—Oh, don’t st—”
I'm quick to slip the condom on and faster to ease inside of her, feeling a million different sensations at the same moment. All the while, I’m enamored by her gaze as she studies me and looks through me at
same time—maybe wondering if it'll hurt, how much it'll hurt, or how fucking good this is going to be. She doesn't tense up or make any sound of discomfort, so I continue to move inside of her at a slow pace with cautious movements.
Her fingernails lightly pinch at my skin, and I bury my mouth against her breast, tugging at her peach-colored nipple with my teeth. A groan that sounds like pain growls in her throat, and I lift my head to find the expression on her face. "No, no, please don't stop," she cries.
Having all the confirmation I need, I replace my mouth where I want it to be and grip my hands around her ass while using a little more pressure, intensifying everything.
I thrust harder, and her movements become slower as her nails dig deeper into the flesh on my back. She's breathing heavily, forcing her breasts into my face as I reach the point of release. Her erotic screams fill the air as I pump harder and faster.
"What the hell is this?" A voice shouts from behind us.
Haven shrieks in my ear, and I lose my balance from holding myself above her, falling to the side and grabbing at the sheets in the same instance.
"Dad?" she says emphatically. "Jesus! Get out!"
"You have ten seconds to get your clothes on,” he says, pointing his finger at us. “You too, Mr. Carson," he hisses.
The door slams, matching the beat of my heart. My life is over. This is it. This is what I was fucking afraid of. And I let my guard down. I fucking let it down.
"What are we going to do?" Haven’s running her fingers through her hair and the rosy color that was just beaming through her cheeks moments ago has seeped into a sea of whiteness. She’s wasting precious seconds, looking around the room as if she’s going to find a solution to this real big fucking problem.
"What can we do?" I return the question.
"I won't let him fire you," she says. Like that's what I'm worried about right now. Firing me is the last thing on that man's mind.
"Haven, get dressed," I tell her, more abruptly than I intended, but I have a much bigger reason to be freaking the hell out right now than she does.
"Please," she cries. "I never meant for this to happen. I think I love you. I didn't want it to be like this."
"I know." I throw my clothes on as fast as I can, fending off stupid ideas to get out of this while, at the same time, searching for anything that could save me right now. "I never would have done this with you unless I felt the same way.” God dammit. Now I’m the one pacing, squeezing at the flesh on my neck. Shit. Shit. Shit. “Haven, look, I’m not sure I know what love is, and I don’t even know if I'm capable of understanding it, but I've never felt like this about anyone. Ever." Except, none of that matters right this second. However, for whatever is about to happen, I need her to know this wasn't for nothing. I can't take what I just took from her without giving something in return.
A fist pounds against the door. "Hurry the hell up."
"I'm sorry," she continues to cry, shaking as she searches for her clothes. I’ve never seen her frazzled or upset, and this is breaking me to pieces. I want to hurt that man for so many different reasons right now. There isn’t much keeping me from doing that. I can’t watch him make Haven feel this way.
"This isn't your fault.” I grab her by the shoulders, forcing her to look into my eyes. “You hear me? It’s not your fault.” It's his.
As Haven pulls on the last of her clothes, I walk in front of her and open the door, shielding her as much as I can. "Where do you think you’re going?” The mayor asks with a hint of a grin tapering in one corner of his mouth. “You…just raped my daughter." His grin grows wider like no fucking father would do when accusing someone of raping their daughter. "I knew you were just like your dad...born to be a prisoner...am I right?"
"He did not rape me," Haven shrieks from behind me.
Haven’s mother shoves me out of the way, forcing herself into the bedroom that I’m now closed out of. Faintly, I can hear her soothing words to Haven. "Sweetie, it's okay. You're okay now," she says calmly.
"Get off me," I hear Haven fighting back. "I love him. He didn't hurt me. Why do you two live to ruin my life? What did I ever do to you?"
"Haven, control yourself right now," her mother says. "The sheriff is going to be here any minute. Don't you dare embarrass us."
"I didn't rape her," I grunt to the mayor.
He leans forward, bringing his stale breath too close to my face. "Doesn't matter if you forced yourself onto my daughter, Mr. Carson," he says quietly. "It's illegal to have sex with a sixteen-year-old minor. That's grounds for jail time now, isn't it?" What? No.
What? Wait a fucking minute. There’s no way— "She told me she was eighteen months ago," I rebut, making sure to spit in his face. I was there on her fucking birthday.
He stands up, pulling a silk handkerchief from his pocket and dabbing it against the side of his face. "I highly doubt my daughter would tell such a tall tale. You, however," he looks me up and down. "You're an animal. You wouldn't care how old she was now, would you?" I don't know if Haven lied or if he's lying, but it doesn't matter. I'm smart enough to know it won't make a difference no matter what the case. That man runs this town, and even if a lawyer as sleazy as the one he used to be would help a poor fuck like me, Frederick Leigh would pull out all stops. Lying or not, I don't have a chance.
The sheriff barges in and wastes no time before he starts asking questions, getting my side of the story, but it’s all a formality. I don't matter. Frederick Leigh has had an agenda since the day I stood in front of his desk right after Granddad died.
Just as I'm cuffed, I hear a scuffling in the hall, and Haven is wrestling against her parents, screaming things I can’t even understand at this point.
I’m dragged out backward, forced to watch the tears running down Haven's cheeks as she screams and pleads for everyone to stop.
My rights are read to me through a blur of incomprehensible words as the sheriff forcefully pushes my head down while shoving me into the cruiser. The last thing I see is Haven's hand up against her window, crying through a pain of guilt or sympathy. Not sure I'll ever truly know.
P A R T
T W O
* * *
SEVEN YEARS LATER
When a person shatters, the particles rarely regroup into any sort of semblance of what they were before. If anything, the glue used to rebuild attracts dust and foreign entities, fostering cracks and holes where undamaged pieces used to reside.
* * *
Sadly, though, what fills the black holes does not always create a prettier version of what once was.
15
Raine
I almost forgot what I brought into this place, which was basically nothing. When I came in, I had my wallet, a spare condom, and the clothes on my back. Now, I'm being handed my wallet with the last thirty dollars I had to my name, and the clothes that would only fit the twenty-one-year-old version of myself. Fantastic.
I press through the cold metal doors of the prison, welcomed by the quiet, lonely sound of freedom. For only a split second, I forget I have nowhere to go and no one to call. Then, for only a second, I care. My only concern is the price tag attached to everything that comes next, and I don't know where to start.
With no option, other than to hoof it, I walk until I end up in the center of the small town I knew well—the one I grew up in. It was always a clean little place, filled with pleasant people, apart from a few, but I don't remember it being this clean or with so many high-class looking people all staring at me. Whether it's my tarnished perspective on life that's changed, or not, it's apparent that I still don't fit in. I never will.
As a mother and her young daughter walk past me, the mom gives me a lingering look that ends with a smile, letting me know she finds me attractive, which is a good ego boost since I look the part for just getting out of prison. I grin back at her, but it seems she just realized who I am. The woman grabs her daughter, tucking her safely between her arm and side while covering the girl's eyes from
the monster I evidently am. For so long I planned to defend myself, no matter what that took. Even if I had to tell every person who passes by that Haven lied about her age, I would do that to save myself from the names I've most likely earned. Now that I'm out, I don't have the same desire to fight the looks and accusations.
Continuing down the street with no direction, I do my damnedest to avoid eye contact with everyone until an older man in a pricey-looking suit stops in front of me. With a white beard and eyebrows the size of cotton balls, he crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his head to the side as if he were studying me, trying to figure out what kind of animal I am. "Don't think for a second that no one knows who you are," his voice booms, loud enough for anyone in the vicinity to hear. He's purposely making a public statement to ease the concerns of the people in this town. What other reason is there?
I drop my hands into my pockets and shrug my shoulders. "Who am I, exactly?" Because I'd love to fucking know.
Just as the man probably hoped, there's a small crowd circling around us, as if this might be the most exciting thing that's happened here in God knows how long. "You're Raine Carson, and this community is aware of you and the fact that you were released from prison today. We have all been dreading this day for quite some time now." This town with one stoplight can only hold eight hundred people, yet there's a prison situated just along the bordering town, holding another four hundred people. The only difference is, I came from this town. Most of the other inmates didn't.
"I am who you accuse me of being. And yes, I was released from prison today. So, thanks for your welcoming greeting."
"You best be passing through then," he says, lessening his public spectacle down to a private conversation. "I—we don't care if you used to be a resident here or not. You are no longer welcome." When did we go back to living in an era where people are evicted from towns? I must have missed an awful lot while I was rotting behind bars.
Raine's Haven Page 12
