Black Sheep

by Tabatha Vargo

  His eyes scrutinized Russell, taking him in and sizing him up before connecting with mine. Emotion filled his expression, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. He didn’t look angry or hurt; his expression was something different from anything I’d ever seen, and I wasn’t sure what to make of it.

  “And who do we have here?” my mom asked, nodding toward Russell.

  Before I could introduce him, Russell stepped forward, shaking my dad’s hand with confidence and a smile.

  “It’s great to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Palmer. I’m Russell Landry. I’ve been dating your daughter for about two weeks.”

  My eyes went wide at his words. I was going to tell them we were friends, at least until things got more serious—if things got more serious—but Russell just went for it. Sure, technically, we were kind of dating, but then again, we were kind of just hanging out too. Nothing was set in stone, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about him meeting my parents just weeks after I’d met him.

  I didn’t have time to think about it with everything going on around me, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to think about it with the way Tyson was looking at me. He looked at me like I’d kicked three puppies and drowned an entire litter of kittens, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it just then. Things were moving too quickly.

  “Well, it’s certainly nice to meet you, Russell.” My mom smiled her forced smile—the one she gave preachers and teachers. “Are you headed home for Christmas to be with your family?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I’m leaving in two days.”

  “Oh well, that’s lovely. I’m sure your parents will be thrilled to have you home.”

  The rest of their conversation melted into a blur of noises around me.

  Braving his expression, I let myself look at Tyson. His jaw was tight, the muscles popping out, as he stood silently behind my parents. My lips shifted, and I attempted to smile at him, but I was only met with steely disregard. He turned away, his eyes skimming the auditorium, and I knew I’d been given the cut.

  Brian was clueless to everything around him since he was glued to his phone. He had some form of technology attached to his hand these days while he played app after app and ignored the world around him. At that moment, I wished I could do the same.

  Once my family had met Russell and we’d said our goodbyes, I showered and collected my bags from my room while they waited downstairs. Our flight wasn’t due out for hours, so we stopped at a nice restaurant two blocks over from the school. It wasn’t long until we were catching our flight out of New York and headed home for Christmas.

  I was excited to get out of the city and back home, but things were off. My dad seemed uncomfortable with Russell, and I knew it was because I hadn’t mentioned him in our conversations. I usually told my dad everything.

  My mom, while still being her cheerful self, was acting strangely, as well. I knew she wasn’t a fan of big cities, and New York was one of the biggest, but it was something more than that. An underlying worry I couldn’t put my finger on.

  But more than anything, it was Tyson’s silence. It cut me like a sharp blade, making me feel as though I was doing something wrong when I wasn’t. I’d offered Tyson everything—I’d told him my feelings and begged him to reveal his. It wasn’t my fault he refused.

  What was I supposed to do?

  Live my life chasing after a man who was too afraid to want me? A man too afraid to touch me—too afraid to be touched.

  I couldn’t do that anymore. No matter how much his silence hurt me, I deserved to be happy. I knew that, and I knew Tyson knew it, too.

  SEVEN

  Tyson

  I KNEW PAIN. I’d lived it until I was twelve years old and then in my nightmares every night since then. I’d been beaten and raped. I’d been burned and verbally abused. But none of it rocked me as hard as seeing Nicole kiss another man. None of it had killed me as badly as seeing her arms around him and the way he smiled down at her. It left me feeling sick in my core and hurt in a way I never thought I’d feel.

  Her performance had been amazing. She was beautiful on stage in her element—her body stretching and bending with the music from the orchestra. I’d always loved to watch Nicole dance. The exhilaration on her face when she was dancing was contagious. The music and the calculated movements of her body were soothing. Watching her on stage made me glad that I’d gone to New York with the Palmers.

  After Thanksgiving, I didn’t see Nicole again before she went back to school. I did, however, see a new picture she’d posted on her Facebook with her mom and dad. The nasty bruises on her cheek made me pop open a fresh bottle of beer. Knowing I was the culprit behind that bruise—that I’d marred her beautiful face—made me nauseous.

  She probably thought I was a total dick for not coming to see her off to New York after Thanksgiving, but fuck it. I was staying away for her. She thought she knew what she wanted, but I knew what was best for her, and I wasn’t it. No matter how badly I wished I were good enough, I wasn’t.

  Instead of dwelling on it, I worked my ass off, staying so busy I didn’t have time to think about anything else. When I got back to my lonely one-bedroom apartment, covered in motor oil, I’d shower, I’d drink, and I’d crash.

  It worked.

  “Bro, what the fuck’s wrong with you?” Nate asked.

  We worked side by side at the garage, plugging tires and changing oil. He was also co-owner of The Blind Tiger, the tattoo shop where I worked when I wasn’t slinging spark plugs at the garage.

  I’d known Nate since my junior year of high school. There was a fight in a Burger King parking lot, and I was outnumbered by five dudes. Nate had stepped in and made sure I didn’t get my ass kicked too badly.

  Afterward, he’d taken me back to The Blind Tiger, given me a beer, even though I was underage, and grinned at me with a bruised eye and a bloodied lip before we both burst into laughter. We’d been close friends ever since.

  “Nothing, man, I’m good.”

  It was a lie.

  I wasn’t good.

  I hadn’t been good since Nicole ran off to New York.

  I knew it was what she wanted. I was aware of how amazing she danced and how far she’d go in the world. I didn’t belong in any part of her perfection, but that didn’t mean it didn’t suck not to see her every Sunday at dinner. It didn’t mean I didn’t miss her.

  “You’re so full of shit.” He laughed.

  The guys at the garage were my friends, and most of them were older, except Dennis, the owner’s seventeen-year-old son. And since I’d started working there when I was younger, we’d become a bit of a family. The boys had my back, and I had theirs.

  I finished the day with a tattoo of an American flag and a bald eagle at the Tiger and went home to find Mr. Palmer waiting out front.

  “Hey, bud, work hard today?” he asked, grabbing one of my bags and helping me carry it inside.

  “It was a long one. What’s up?”

  It wasn’t often that Mr. Palmer stopped by, but when he did, there was a damn good reason.

  “Connie wanted me to come over and make sure you were up for New York.”

  “What about New York?”

  My apartment was clean and organized and even had some nice decorations in the living room area thanks to Mrs. Palmer. Not long after I’d moved in, they’d stopped by. When she saw I was sitting on a lawn chair and using a milk crate as a side table, she took matters into her own hands.

  I came home the next day to find her polishing furniture she’d picked up at the Goodwill and a new-to-me couch and chair. There were pictures on my new entertainment center of the family, but the best part was the silver frame on the table next to my couch with a picture of Nicole and Brian.

  She was smiling at the camera as if she was hiding a sweet secret from the world. Her blond hair blowing in the breeze and her blue eyes glowing—she was beautiful. Some nights, when I was feeling particularly lonely, I’d pretend I was the secret she was hiding from the wor
ld.

  “Nicole has a big performance. We thought it would be nice if the whole family went together and made an adventure out of it.”

  If I’d known then that the adventure meant seeing Nicole kiss another man, I would’ve said no to Mr. Palmer for the first time. But I hadn’t known, and I’d agreed to make my adopted family happy.

  Flying to New York with the Palmers wasn’t exactly what I wanted to spend my weekend doing, but I supposed flying and family time were better than drinking my cares away. I’d already decided after the Thanksgiving drama with Nicole that I’d stay away from her.

  I’d thought staying away would be easy, except for major holidays, but the family was making it damn near impossible. However, after the show, and once Nicole ripped my heart from my body, I knew I’d make it happen. I’d stay away if for no other reason than because every time I looked at her, all I saw was her sucking face with another guy.

  I didn’t say much during our trip home from New York. There wasn’t much to say. I felt heartbroken, and like the wild animal I was, I wanted to attack the cause of that hurt. But breaking Nicole’s new ‘friend’ in two wasn’t going to fly with the Palmers. They weren’t much for violence. Instead, I stewed all through the entire trip and the flight home.

  Once we were back in Charleston and I could get away, I made an excuse about working early the next morning and left as soon as possible. It worked since it was way late when we finally got home from the airport.

  I left without saying goodbye to Nicole. Hell, I’d barely said two words to her or even looked at her the entire time. I couldn’t. It hurt too much.

  She was mine—she’d always been mine—but she wasn’t. I’d made it so, and I couldn’t do anything about it.

  I stopped by a gas station on the way to my apartment and filled up my car. Then I drove home with the radio loud in hopes that the music would block out the sounds of my racing heart. It was like I could hear it breaking—feel it crumbling inside my chest. It wasn’t a great feeling.

  Once I was inside my apartment, I crashed on my couch with my face in my hands. She was driving me crazy. For years, she’d been driving me insane, but seeing her with him—seeing his hands on her—I wasn’t taking it well.

  I’d known this would happen at some point. I knew she’d date once she was in New York, and I wasn’t there to stop it from happening, but what I didn’t know was how badly I was going to react to it.

  I was home only minutes before I went to my refrigerator and grabbed a beer. It was well after midnight, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to get any sleep without it.

  I swallowed it down with the refrigerator door still open before grabbing another one and taking a seat back on my couch. I didn’t turn the TV on or listen to music. Instead, I sat there, drinking and replaying her lips on his over and over again until I felt like I was going to explode.

  Two hours later, and a twelve pack down, a knock sounded on my door. It wasn’t often that I got visitors, especially in the middle of the night, but usually, it was one of the guys stopping by to hang out. I stood from the couch, the room spinning and letting me know I’d drank too much too fast, and I went to the door. Skipping the peephole completely, I threw the door open to find Nicole standing there staring back at me.

  “We need to talk,” she said, before stepping around me and coming into my apartment.

  I closed my eyes and breathed in the sweet smell of her perfume as she passed.

  I was drinking.

  No.

  I was drunk.

  My control was already close to snapping after seeing her with another guy, so adding in alcohol and jealousy wasn’t going to help. Her being in my territory wasn’t going to end well or it was going to end great. Either way, I was going to be in hell.

  EIGHT

  Nicole

  ONCE WE WERE home, and I settled my things in my room, I made myself a sandwich while the rest of the family crashed. Standing at the kitchen counter, I ate and stewed over the way Tyson had acted toward me. About an hour after Tyson left without saying goodbye, the real anger set in.

  Who the hell did he think he was anyway?

  He had no right to be mad at me. I hadn’t done anything wrong. I was eighteen years old, and I’d dated maybe three times in my entire life. I deserved a friend—even if Russell thought we were more at the moment, which I would have to take care of after the holidays.

  The main point was Tyson had chosen our situation. I’d thrown myself at him more times than I wanted to admit, and every time, he pushed me away. I wasn’t about to let him make me feel guilty for moving past him.

  Screw him.

  Making sure not to wake the entire family, I took Dad’s car and drove over to Tyson’s apartment. It was the middle of the night, and I didn’t really know what I was doing. Anger was fueling me, and that made me do irrational things. I drove by several times, and seeing the lights still on in his place, I finally got the nerve to park.

  The leather of the steering wheel squeaked under my abusive grip. My nerves were getting the best of me, and I was starting to sweat even though it was cool outside. I hadn’t even turned on the heat in Dad’s car.

  I had no idea what I was going to say once I was face to face with him, but I needed him to know he was the one in the wrong … not me. I needed him to know he was no longer in control of my dating life or anything else in my life. I had to let him go. I had to move on, and that’s kind of what I was doing with Russell.

  Kind of.

  He looked like shit when he opened the door, his wide shoulders taking up the doorway and a beer dangling from his fingers. I’d never seen Tyson drink before, not even at the few high school parties I’d gone to, and I wasn’t sure if I liked it very much. I especially didn’t like the way he looked at me once he opened the door. Like I was nothing—like I wasn’t good enough to be in his presence.

  I pushed past him, sure that he would shut the door in my face if I didn’t, and my shoulder slammed into his. It was cold outside, but when my body crashed into his for that brief second, his warmth made my frigid fingers tingle.

  He turned, watching me as I stepped across his living room and took a seat on his couch. Then he clenched his eyes shut and sighed, his fingers turning white as he gripped the door and closed it.

  “We have nothing to talk about,” he said.

  The chuckle that sprang from my lips was full of sarcasm. All the times we skirted the issue—for seven years, we’d worked up to that moment—and he wanted to act as if the heavy weight settled between us didn’t exist. He was a pretender, and I was sick to death of pretending with him.

  “I disagree.” I stood and stripped my heavy coat from my shoulders. “You’re pissed off with me, and you don’t have the right to be. You’re the one who chose for things to be this way between us … not me.”

  I moved closer to him as his dark eyes glittered in anger. Most people would be afraid of Tyson, but I wasn’t, and I never would be.

  “What did you expect me to do, Tyson? Wait for you forever? Was I supposed to just sit around alone all the time while you went out and had sex with as many girls as you wanted?”

  He shoulders stiffened, and his lips went tight. “Stop, Nicole.” He held his hand out, and it was then I noticed the slight slur to his words.

  There was no telling how long he’d been drinking—no telling how many beers he’d choked down before I got to his apartment. Still, I wasn’t going to let that stop me from saying the things I needed to say.

  “No. I’m not going to stop. You know, I saw you kiss a girl once. I saw you put your hands all over her and touch her in ways I’d always wanted you to touch me, but I never said anything. I never even mentioned it. And you know why I didn’t mention it?”

  My voice was rising as anger simmered in my stomach. Still, he stood there staring back at me, his face turning red and his muscles so tight I thought they’d snap.

  “Because you weren’t mine, Tyson. No matte
r how badly I wanted you to be, you were never mine. And I’m not yours. Apparently, I’ll never be yours.”

  Those words triggered something in him, and suddenly, he moved. The beer bottle in his hand crashed to the floor seconds before he grabbed me by my arms and jerked me to him. The smell of beer and his cologne mixed, marking the moment in my memory.

  “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” he snapped, his teeth gnashing like a rabid dog.

  His words were hot and harsh against my cheek, his fingers biting into my arms and making me hiss in pain. Noticing how roughly he was handling me, his fingers loosened and he clenched his eyes closed and took a deep breath.

  “Have you slept with him? Has he … has he touched you?” His words were soft and broken—his eyes wide and hurt.

  His questions shocked me.

  Did he think I slept around?

  Didn’t he know I was a virgin?

  He made it next to impossible to date a guy when we were growing up, much less be alone with someone for more than thirty minutes.

  When did I even have the time to sleep with someone?

  Surely, he didn’t think I’d have sex with someone I’d only known a few weeks.

  Then again, he was clueless to how long I’d known Russell. As far as he knew, I could’ve met Russell the day I started school.

  “Don’t answer that.” He pulled away and shook his head. “I don’t want to know. It’s not my business.”

  He ran his fingers through his hair roughly in aggravation before locking his hands behind his neck, giving me the perfect view of his beautiful tattooed biceps. The sleeves of his shirt slid up, showing more and more of the inked perfection—some of the artwork familiar from his old bedroom walls.

  He dropped his arms when he realized I was checking him out, and I quickly turned away and cleared my throat. I’d always been crazy attracted to Tyson … always, and it seemed to be getting worse the older we got—the more I realized exactly what I wanted from him … from his body and mind.