He stared up at me, his hands scrambling to keep my arm from finishing the job.
Just a little more. I could do it.
“TANK,” a voice yelled, penetrating my consciousness.
“Tank,” the voice said again, softer this time. Pleading.
A flowery perfume broke through the stink of blood and sweat, and my soul knew.
Marla. Marla was here.
Her hands were gently resting on my shoulder. Holding me back. Stopping me from killing my father. She was looking into my eyes. Silently trying to get me back to reality.
Taking a deep breath, I nodded slowly and let the real-world back in. Stepping back, I looked at him while he gasped for air.
“You’re lucky,” I said. “The girl just saved your life.”
Glancing at Marla, I shook my head and left. I knew as I stepped out of the house that I would never return. I’d die a thousand deaths before I walked back in there.
I didn’t stop until I got to the street.
My heart hammered as I tried to bring myself back under control. Every muscle quivered with pure energy. The need to destroy still flowed inside of me. That need to pound something into oblivion was still there, but not as strong.
Slowly, I could feel myself regaining control.
I had just gotten into a fight with my father. A man fight. The shame that washed over me made my stomach clench up like I was going to sick. Right there in front of the whole neighborhood.
Bending over at the waist, I sucked in the fresh air and tried to calm down.
“Are you okay,” Marla asked as she gently laid a hand on my back.
All I could do was nod.
I couldn’t look at her. She had seen me at my worse. The beast inside of me had been unleashed. Out of control. I had almost killed my father. The gut wrenching shame was worse than anything I had ever known.
“Come on,” she said. “We need to take care of those cuts.”
Gently, she took my hand and started pulling me towards her house.
“No,” I said as I pulled back. “Your Mom will freak. No, please.” The begging tone of my voice cut me, but I couldn’t stop myself. The last thing in the world I needed just then was Mrs. T getting involved. The shame of what I had just done was overwhelming. Her disapproving look would cut me to little pieces.
Marla frowned as she looked at me then slowly shook her head. “Come on,” she said, “we’ll sneak into the basement from the backyard. She’ll never know. At least not until we’re done.”
I let myself be led through the gate and to their back-sliding door. Like almost every other house on the street, they had a daylight basement. Mr. Turner had turned it into a playroom years ago.
Sometimes I thought I’d spent more hours in that room than my own house.
“Sit,” Marla commanded as she pointed to the couch. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll get blood all over everything,” I said. The cut on my forehead felt like a chocolate fountain. Just oozing down my face.
“Sit,” she said sternly. “It won’t be the first time, and it probably won’t be the last.”
I almost laughed out load. She was right. Each of us guys had been fixed up more than once by Mrs. T.
Sitting down gently, I tried to keep my bloody hands and shirt from touching anything. The room was becoming fuzzy as the blood in my eyes clouded everything.
Leaning forward, I rested my head in my hands as another wave of pure energy washed through me. I couldn’t believe what had just happened. I’d almost killed my father.
Marla came back in from the bathroom carrying a bowl of water, towels, and a bunch of first aid supplies. She stopped for a moment and looked at me, slowly shaking her head.
“Why were you there?” I asked as she laid out her nursing station.
Marla shrugged her shoulders and refused to look at me. “I don’t know,” she said softly. “I just had a feeling.”
That was all she said, but it was enough. She had known there might be trouble.
“Thank you,” I said. “If you hadn’t stopped me, I would have killed him.”
She scoffed and shook her head, “If you wanted to hurt him, I wouldn’t have been able to stop you.”
Was she right? Had I stopped myself? Maybe I wasn’t the most terrible person in the world.
“I didn’t start it,” I said as a way of an excuse.
She smiled slightly and stopped what she was doing to look me in the eye. “Tank Gunderson, you are not to blame.”
The feeling of release when my heart started pounding again was nirvana. She didn’t despise me. Didn’t think I was a monster.
Chapter Eight
Marla
His face looked like it’d been put through a meat grinder. My stomach threatened to be sick every time I saw it. Not the gore, with three brothers and the Lakeland boys. I’d seen my share of that growing up.
No, it was because it was Tank. My insides turned over every time I thought about him getting hurt. Now, here I was going to have to hurt him more.
Gently wiping at the cuts with peroxide, I held my breath. But the big lug didn’t even flinch. He just stared off into space.
I knew he was thinking about his father. What must it be like to go through life with that constant tension? That sense of not being good enough for your own parent. I couldn’t imagine it.
“You’re going to need stitches,” I said as I pressed on the cut at the top of his forehead. “Or you’ll get a scar.”
“Good,” he said, “it will remind me what an asshole he is.”
“I’m serious,” I said, “you need to go to the doctor’s.”
“So am I. No doctor. Just hold it until it stops bleeding, then put a bandage on it.
“Tank,” I said with a touch of desperation.
“Marla, please, just bandage it up. If it doesn't stop bleeding in a bit, I’ll get Jason to take me in.”
I slowly shook my head. The man was impossible.
“Take your shirt off, you’ve got a couple of cuts on your neck.”
Tank nodded and gingerly pulled his shirt over his head, wincing when it caught on one of the bandages.
My heart jumped. The man was so big, so strong. His hard muscles rippled as he gathered his shirt and dropped it on the floor.
For a moment, I was transfixed. Then I was embarrassed by my obvious reaction. The guy had to have seen me staring at that wide, hard chest. He had to.
Sighing to myself, I pulled myself together and focused on the patient. The last thing I needed was Tank thinking I was affected by him.
Nope, not going to happen.
Once I had cleaned the cuts on his neck, I cleaned the rest of his cuts on his face, then the raw scratches on his fists. I looked at his lips and sent up a silent prayer of thanks. They seemed to have gotten through the fight without incident. Unfortunately, I couldn’t say the same for his left eye. It looked like it was half swollen shut and the skin color of his cheekbone was already starting to turn an ugly blue. It was going to be a real shiner.
Without thinking, my fingers reached up and gently touched the edge of his cheekbone. Tank, hurt, injured. It was enough to make my world seem unsteady. Nothing ever hurt Tank.
As I held my hand there, our eyes locked. For a long slow minute, we looked into each other’s eyes and read the other’s soul. There can be no other words for it.
My heart pounded in my chest. My fingers trembled, and I thought my head would burst. But I could not look away. I could not pull myself out of his stare.
Tank continued to look into my eyes, then his glance traveled down to my lips, and I felt my world begin to move.
He continued to stare, and I swear I heard our two hearts pounding the same beat.
Then, with just a slight movement, I knew he was going to kiss me. There was no doubt, and my mind exploded with hope and anticipation as I moved towards him.
It was all he needed, a gentle hint from me, and our lips met.
As they had always meant to come together.
Heaven, pure, sweet, strong heaven.
My heart raced as he slowly caressed my lips with his. This was what I had always wanted. This moment, this now.
Sighing, I moaned softly and sank into him. My arm going around his neck to make sure he didn’t change his mind. This was mine. No one would ever be able to take this moment away from me.
I felt him shiver as his tongue tasted my lips. The burning need in me pushed me to get closer to him. Every dream, every hurt, and denial over the years. All of it came together in that moment.
I was lost, and I could feel him becoming lost as well.
It could have been but minutes or a thousand years. I will never know. But slowly, Tank began to pull back. My lips demanded that I follow him. Follow him wherever he went. But I grabbed onto the last bit of my self-respect and pulled back as well.
We looked at each other. Neither of us able to believe what had just happened.
“Marla ...” he started. A pinched, hurt look crossed his face, sending my heart to my feet.
“Do not say you are sorry. Do not do it. You wanted that as much as I did. I might not know everything. But I know that.”
Tank gulped and shook his head. “I wasn’t going to say I was sorry. That was too special. But ...”
“But what,” I demanded as I backed away from him. My world was spinning. I had just kissed Tank Gunderson. What was even more shocking? He had kissed me. Suddenly, I needed room to breathe.
“What?” I asked. “You are going to tell me I’m too young. I’m only sixteen. Let me remind you that you are only seventeen.
“I’ll be eighteen next month,” he said quietly.
The look on his face didn’t give me a clue as to what he was thinking. It was just a shocked, dumb look of disbelief.
“Or are you going to try and tell me that I’m Jason’s little sister. And that you think of me as a little sister. Just a silly little girl who doesn’t know anything about real life.”
He slowly shook his head as if unable to believe the raging banshee in front of him.
I really should shut up. If I had any brains, I would have gotten out of that room before I made an even bigger fool of myself.
But me, being me, kept on digging that hole even deeper.
“Or, I know, you were going to say something about we are friends. And that is all we could ever be.”
He smiled slowly. Wincing when his cheek muscles stretched over his cuts and bruises. Slowly his hand reached out and gently touched my shoulder.
“Marla,” he said, his voice washing over me like a gentle stream. “I don’t know what I was going to say. It sort of surprised me. I didn’t plan this.”
“What? You didn’t plan a fight with your dad just so you could get me alone to kiss me?”
He laughed. “No, although, if I had known it would be like that. I probably would have.”
My insides relaxed. “You’re not mad at me?”
He smiled, then pulled me into an embrace and slowly lowered his lips again.
Kissing Tank a second time was even better. This time I had some idea of what was going on.
Eventually, he pulled back and smiled at me. “I don’t know about you. But I think we have a serious problem here.”
“What?” I asked breathlessly as my mind fought to get back to some kind of normal.
He smiled again. “Well, I’m mooching off your parents. You are too young, you are Jason’s sister. And I no longer think of you as just a friend.”
My stomach turned into a solid rock again. Here it comes, I thought. The gentle let down. The sweet push to the side of the road. Grimacing I looked into his eyes and tried to prepare my heart for the pain coming my way.
“But?” I asked
“But,” he continued, pausing for a moment, dragging out my misery. “But, I don’t know what is going to happen. Between us, I mean. It is sort of scaring the crap out of me, to be honest. I mean, are you feeling what I’m feeling? Or, is this just you, feeling sorry for me?”
I immediately hit him in the shoulder with my best punch. I really was going to have to toughen up my hands if I was going to spend any time around this guy.
“Tank Gunderson,” I said as I put my hands on my hip. “If you don’t know how I feel about you after that kiss, then you have got to be one of the dumbest people in the world.”
He smiled slowly then nodded. “Yeah, that was what I thought. Which is a good thing. I didn’t want to be the only one having these feelings. It makes things a bit awkward.”
“Tell me about it,” I said as I relaxed. That was the thing about Tank. I knew him. I understood him.
“So, what next?” he asked as his brow creased around the bandage on his forehead.
I shrugged my shoulders. My mind a blank. In all my daydreams, I’d never really gotten much beyond this point. Not on the non-physical aspects of things at least.
“I think we should keep this to ourselves,” Tank said with a frown. “At least until we figure out what this is. Besides. I don’t exactly want to get into a hassle with Jason. One fight a day is my normal rule.”
All I could do was nod my head. It seemed my voice had decided to go on vacation all of a sudden. He wasn’t pushing me away. He wasn’t acting like there was nothing there. Sure, I wanted to scream it from a roof top. Tell the world that Tank Gunderson liked me. But I could understand. For now.
Stepping back, I put my hands in my back pockets and tried not to blush.
“I’d better go help Mom,” I said as I started to gather the first aid stuff. Suddenly, all I could think about was getting away from him. Here I had been dreaming about being with him, and now all I wanted was to be alone to think about what had just happened.
He smiled, and I could tell that he was thinking the same thing. What an emotional rollercoaster he must be on. I thought, first his dad. Now me. What must he be going through? One of the many things I knew about Tank. He didn’t like change. Now here I was, introducing a whole new set of problems to his life.
I got out of there before I could make it any worse.
Later, at dinner, I sat there, my hands folded in my lap, holding my breath, waiting for Tank to come in.
When he stepped into the room, my mom gasped and asked, “What happened to you?”
Tank bit his lip and turned a bright pink. I could tell how much he wanted to avoid this. So, I jumped in.
“He got into a fight with his dad. He’s okay, I cleaned his cuts. What’s for dinner?”
My mom looked back and forth between the two of us, frantically trying to figure out what was going on.
Dad frowned. That deep Dad frown of his that lets you know he wasn’t pleased about something. Then he smiled slightly and said, “I’ve seen worse.”
Tank’s shoulders relaxed just a little. Smiling at me in silent thanks he sat down next to me and waited for the meatloaf to be passed.
Under the table, I pushed my leg over next to his. Resting it against his knee. My heart stopped while I waited for him to shift away from me. But he didn’t. Not my Tank. He kept his leg there, next to mine, sending shivers of pure joy up and down my spine.
“So, I’ve got to hang some cabinets this weekend,” my dad said to Tank. “You available to give me a hand?”
“Yes, Sir,” Tank said as he took a roll and passed me the platter.
“What about me?” Jason asked with that pouty face of his that irked me to no end.
“I only need one,” Dad said, “besides, you’ve got a list of chores a mile long that need to be done.”
“Too much time mooning over Amber,” Michael said, relishing getting a shot in at his older brother. “What she sees in you I will never know.”
“You be quiet,” Mom said to him. “Your list is almost as long.”
Tank laughed, and I felt the world shift back to an even keel. My family. Happy, content, and completely unaware that a short while earlier, Tank Gunderson
and I had been making out in my basement.
If they had, things might have been a bit more awkward, I realized. To say the least. Tank had been right. Until we figured things out, best that no one has any idea what was going on.
Sighing to myself, I started eating, making sure my leg was touching his throughout the meal.
They might not know what had happened. But I did. And no one could ever take that away from me.
Chapter Nine
Tank
I swear I was going to explode. I couldn’t get Marla out of my mind. The taste of her lips. The way every room in the house had a hint of her perfume.
I had absolutely no idea what to do. This was Marla. Jason’s little sister. For the first few days, I tried to avoid her. But that was sort of impossible, living under the same roof. It was like trying not to breathe.
It was just as bad at school. She’d shoot me small smiles when we passed in the hall. Even worse. She was now joining us at lunch. Turning my insides into permanent knots.
The soft lilt of her voice, the way her eyes sparkled. All of it was driving me nuts.
The thing was, because of Marla. I wasn’t even sweating the whole Father issue. It was like my mind had moved on. The man was dead to me. I had about thirty minutes of grief then decided to ignore the whole issue.
If my mom wanted him back, then it was her issue, not mine.
Instead, I was trying to stop myself from screwing up and doing the wrong thing in front of her family.
I was positive if I gave even the smallest hint they’d see how I felt. Her dad would spot it a mile away. The weekend of working side by side with the man had been torture. It was as if I was betraying him somehow. Having feelings for his daughter, living under in his house, hiding it behind his back. It didn’t sit well.
Mr. Turner had always been cool. More than cool. When my dad went away, Mr. Turner seemed to just be there if I needed him. He’d make some little suggestion about guy stuff, and I’d feel like the world was still working.
Taking me camping with his family. Endless hours of throwing footballs with Jason and me. Showing me how to change my mom’s tire when she got a flat.
My Brother's Best Friend (The Lakeland Boys Book 3) Page 5
