Vodka On The Rocks (The Uncertain Saints Book 3)

by Lani Lynn Vale

  He was scarred, and he couldn’t see past the way he looked.

  He pushed me away. Pushed everyone away.

  And suddenly I just wasn’t hungry anymore.

  All I wanted to do was lay in bed, maybe take a couple of pain pills…and forget.

  “I think I need to go lay down,” I whispered.

  Casten had just reached up over his head to thread his hands through his t-shirt when I spoke.

  Slowly, he stopped what he was doing, the t-shirt only hanging around his neck, and stared at me.

  “You not feeling good?”

  He sounded worried.

  I shook my head. “No. I need to lay down.”

  And with that, I left him, doing what I did best.

  Retreating.

  Painful memories clashed within me later that night, turning my usually bad dreams into terrifying nightmares.

  I guess speaking Jet’s name out loud made my dreams even more vivid than they usually were.

  My relationship with Jet was all giggles and rainbows at first…until it just…wasn’t.

  Chapter 6

  They should put more Oreos in a package…that way there’s enough for two people.

  -Tasha’s secret thoughts

  Tasha

  “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Jet asked me as we laid on the blanket in our fort.

  “I want to be an architect,” I said.

  “Why that? You could be anything,” Jet said. “Like a nurse. Or a volleyball coach. Maybe a train conductor.”

  I blinked, turning over onto my belly to look at him.

  But before he could say anything else, the whole freaking wall behind us caved in.

  We both scrambled, him going one way, and me the other.

  Then a piece of the ceiling caved, and then I couldn’t see him anymore.

  “Jet!” I screamed loudly. “Jet!”

  I’d screwed up. Bad.

  My mother and father had told me not to come here, but this was our place. Just Jet and I.

  This was our place where I could hang out with him. Be with him. Talk to him without my parents thinking anything of our new relationship.

  My parents were devout Catholics, and nowhere in their household would they allow my very best friend to have any sort of relationship with their sixteen-year-old daughter.

  Jet was older than me, but only by a few months.

  My dream morphed to the day he’d tried to kill himself.

  Did kill himself.

  I looked around the hospital room, wondering how long they’d allow me to stay before I was told to leave.

  My eyes fell on the bed where Jet laid, tubes running out of him everywhere.

  He had a breathing tube down his throat, and it was taped to his skin at the side of his mouth.

  His eyes were closed, and his brown shaggy hair that I loved to run my fingers through fell limply against his head.

  He didn’t look alive.

  Not at all.

  This wasn’t my Jet.

  My Jet was always laughing about something.

  It didn’t even have to be funny for him to be laughing.

  He’d been doing well. Recovering. Then he’d relapsed. Something had happened, and all of a sudden I was left with this. This shell of the boy that I used to love.

  He was only alive right now because his mother refused to take him off of life support since his father wasn’t back from his business trip out of the country.

  I sat down heavily on the side of his bed, bringing his scarred hand up to my chest before dropping my head to press my lips against the knuckles of his hand.

  “Why do you want to leave me…leave us? We would have loved you. It would’ve all been okay. I love you. Please,” I whispered, tears dripping down my face. “Please.”

  His hand twitched, and I looked up just as he opened his eyes.

  But they weren’t the usual chocolate brown.

  They were a beautiful stormy gray.

  A shade that I’d never seen in his face.

  But the longer I looked at his eyes, the more I realized that those weren’t his eyes. Nor was it even his body.

  It wasn’t Jet at all, but Casten.

  “I’m here.”

  “You’re here?” I asked in confusion.

  “Yes, wake up.”

  Wake up?

  “Wake up!”

  ***

  Casten

  The screaming woke me so fast that I launched myself out of bed before I even realized I was moving.

  My Glock was in my hand before I’d even consciously reached for it, and I was across the hallway before my sisters could get out of bed.

  “Jet!” Tasha screamed. “Don’t do it! Don’t do it!”

  I knew those agonizing screams.

  They were mine, too.

  Suicide wasn’t the answer, no matter what your problem.

  Why?

  Because there are people other than you that you have to think about. There are parents. Friends. Co-workers. Wives. Girlfriends. Husbands. Boyfriends. Hell, even the fucking dog will miss you.

  So I knew those screams coming out of Tasha’s mouth, because I’d screamed them.

  Lived them.

  Been haunted by them.

  I landed on my knees beside Tasha’s bed, barely recognizing the burn that accompanied the move.

  “Tasha!” I pushed on her shoulder, then cupped her face. “Wake up.”

  “Casten, don’t do it,” she whispered in an agonizing voice. “Please.”

  “Tasha, I’m here. It’s me. Wake up.”

  “Wake up?” she cried, breaking my heart.

  The lights were turned on behind me, and I realized I was no longer alone with Tasha.

  Both of my sisters likely filled the doorway behind me.

  “Yes, wake up.”

  Her eyelids fluttered open, and I was met with wide, terrified eyes.

  “You didn’t kill yourself,” she whispered.

  I shook my head. “No. I’d never do that.”

  The certainty in my voice finally pushed through the fog of pain that surrounded her, and she relaxed, holding onto my hand like it was an anchor in the storm of emotions running through her right now.

  “Don’t ever do it. Please,” she pleaded, her sobs broke through, and I leaned down until my forehead rested on hers.

  “I won’t. I won’t,” I promised.

  She threw her hands around my neck.

  “That’s what he said, too. He said it. And he didn’t mean it,” she told me brokenly. “He lied to me. To my face. I saw the signs, called him on them, and he did it anyway. He knew it’d break me.”

  I didn’t know what to say.

  That wasn’t good. In fact, it was horrible.

  “I’m sorry, T,” I told her. “But I’m not a boy. I’m a man with a ton of responsibilities. I have a family. I have a life. I have a club. I won’t do it.”

  She finally relaxed completely, and her hands fell limply at her sides. I turned and motioned to my sisters that it was all right. I had this.

  “I’m sorry,” she finally sounded halfway normal. “I’m so sorry.”

  I pressed my lips against hers.

  They were soft and salty from her tears.

  And slowly it morphed into something more.

  Something that wasn’t exactly the kind of kiss meant to soothe her frayed emotions.

  I pulled away, looking down into her eyes.

  “You wanna talk to me about it?” I asked.

  She stared up at the ceiling, and she began to talk.

  “I met Jet when I was ten. We spent every waking moment we could together,” she whispered, staring at nothing and everything all at once. “I already told you about the fire. He was burned badly, over nearly seventy-five percent of his body.”

  She bit her lip, then moved over until she was on the opposite si
de of the bed.

  “Turn the light off and get up here. It’s easier to talk in the dark,” she ordered me.

  I hid a smile and turned off the light, then settled down onto the bed beside her.

  But I didn’t stop there.

  I pulled her into my chest and wrapped my arms around her frame.

  She laid her head down over my heart, and I worked my hand through the mass of wavy hair that cascaded down our sides.

  “To prove to him that I didn’t care about his burns, I made love to him. It was good for a first time, too. But he couldn’t get past the fact that his ‘damaged’ skin rubbed on my ‘beautiful’ skin,” she whispered.

  I didn’t actually see her make the air quotes, but I felt them, and it made me smile that, even though she was upset, she still was the same old Tasha that I was used to.

  “He killed himself by popping about thirty pain pills at once,” she croaked.

  My eyes closed as a wave of unease rolled through me.

  “I was six weeks pregnant with our baby at the time.”

  I swallowed thickly, but never let her know my emotions. Never let her see how affected I was by her.

  “It was a mess. He died at the hospital. His parents refused to let me see him afterwards, then held the funeral out of town. My parents found out about the baby. They weren’t happy with me.” She shook her head. “And I had to have a baby at seventeen that belonged to the man that was supposed to be my forever.”

  An irrational surge of jealously poured through me, but I tamped it down.

  She didn’t need that part of me right then.

  “And I lost her when I was thirty-six weeks pregnant. Went to my ultrasound and she was gone. No heartbeat,” she whispered brokenly.

  “God,” I said gruffly. “Tasha.”

  She shrugged. “That was the scar that you saw. That was where they took my baby from me, because I couldn’t have her normally.”

  I did the only thing I could do.

  I held her as the sobs overtook her once again.

  “She was my only thing left and she was gone, too.”

  “I’m sorry, T. I’m so sorry.”

  She didn’t say anything after that.

  The only thing filling the empty night air around us was her ragged breathing that would, every once in a while, hitch up from a sob that caught in her throat.

  And I never went back to sleep.

  Wasn’t sure if I ever could sleep normally again.

  Chapter 7

  Don’t keep calm. Grab my hair, spin me around, and fuck me like you hate me.

  -Tasha’s secret thoughts

  Casten

  The next morning, I got out of Tasha’s temporary bed, and cursed myself.

  I was ruined.

  Totally and forever gone for the woman.

  She looked good spread out on the crisp white sheets that usually graced my bed.

  Her hair was in a messy halo around her head, and her face was set in peace instead of the agony from the night before.

  I tiptoed out of the room, heading straight for mine.

  “She okay?” Rhea asked.

  I looked up to see both her and CeeCee at the dining room table.

  I nodded.

  “She’s fine.”

  “Okay,” Rhea’s small voice followed me into my room as I closed the door.

  I showered and partially shaved, leaving my goatee because it covered up a few more scars on my face.

  I got dressed and ready for work before I went out to the kitchen, towards the smell of frying bacon.

  What surprised me, though, was that it wasn’t my sisters who were frying the bacon.

  It was Tasha.

  “Mornin’,” I rumbled, making all three of them turn toward me.

  My eyes were all for Tasha, though.

  She smiled shyly at me.

  “What kind of eggs do you like?” She waved the spatula in her hand.

  “Runny,” Rhea answered.

  “Eww,” Tasha lifted her lip. “That reminds me of snot.”

  I laughed.

  “Good tasting snot. You should try it,” I shot back, going to the coffee pot for my morning dose of caffeine. “I gotta go to the office before we leave. Do you want to come with me, or do you want to stay here?”

  She pursed her lips.

  “Leave for where?” she wondered.

  “The wedding,” I replied.

  Her mouth dropped into an O.

  “Oh yeah,” she hesitated. “I forgot.”

  I nodded. “Come or stay?”

  “I’ll go,” she whispered, turning back to the bacon. “But I don’t have anything to wear this weekend.”

  “I can go get you something!” Rhea exclaimed with excitement.

  Tasha turned toward Rhea.

  “I can do it,” she hedged. “It’s hard to find something that fits completely without trying it on.”

  “We’ll run by the mall on the way home,” I offered.

  I lived in Uncertain, but my main office was in Longview, about an hour away.

  She turned her beautiful brown eyes up to me once again and smiled.

  “I think you’ll regret that,” she teased.

  I shrugged. “I have two sisters. How much worse could you be?”

  Way…way worse.

  Something I found out three hours later.

  Mostly because she made me sit in the dressing room with her while she tried on things because I was ‘intimidating.’

  Whatever.

  “How about this one?” she turned.

  She was wearing a different bra today, so each time she took off her top, I could make out the play of metal through the thin barrier.

  Not to mention I could practically see her nipples.

  The bra wasn’t thick enough to hide those beauties.

  My dick was uncomfortably hard, and I could’ve sworn she was doing it on purpose.

  My eyes strained to stay on just what she was wearing, and not stray to her breasts or too short skirt.

  I’d managed to hold on to some semblance of control, too.

  I was doing so well.

  “It’s better than the last,” I told her honestly.

  She looked at me over her shoulder, then sighed before ripping the dress off.

  It fell to her feet in a flutter of gauzy material, and I blinked as I got a load of her ass.

  The panties weren’t a thong. They were the type that barely covers the ass, but I couldn’t tell you what they were called.

  But when she bent forward to reach for yet another dress, I was done.

  Standing up, I bent over her and gathered the two dresses that I liked most.

  I knew they’d fit.

  Everything she’d tried on, had.

  So I picked up her shorts and shirt from the floor, tossed them at her, and left before she could protest.

  “I’m going to go pay for these,” I said. “I’ll meet you out front.”

  Without another word, I left.

  Once I’d paid for the purchases, I walked outside and took a seat next to the old man that was currently occupying the bench right beside the front doors.

  “How’s it going?” I mumbled.

  I hadn’t really expected him to answer.

  It was more of a polite gesture on my part than wanting an actual conversation with him.

  But he answered, surprising me.

  “Be better if my wife didn’t think I was made of money,” he grumbled.

  I snorted as I tried to conceal my laugh.

  “My woman’s trying on the whole damn place. I’d be happy to buy her whatever she wanted, as long as I didn’t have to sit there and watch her do it,” I told him.

  He turned a grizzled smile my way, and I was struck by how happy he looked.

  “Oh, I love my Mary Bell,” he rolled his eyes. “I just like to give her a hard time.”


  The electric doors behind me slid open, and I glanced over my shoulder at Tasha as she stomped her way out.

  She didn’t stop at my side, either.

  Instead she walked right up to my old truck, yanked open the door, then slumped into the seat.

  She didn’t even manage to get the door closed before her energy gave out.

  And I found that I liked her needing my help.

  I wondered idly what it would take to get her to never leave my home but decided not to dwell on that right now.

  “Well,” I said standing. “It was nice to meet you.”

  The man offered me his hand. “A little piece of advice, son?”

  I turned to him and smiled.

  “Yeah?” I asked.

  “She may be feisty, but those are the ones that are worth every bit of fight you have in you. Treat her well, and she’ll hand you the world.”

  With that, he got up, and I watched as he escorted the woman that’d come out of the door while we’d been talking.

  Like him, she was elderly, too

  But the moment she saw the man at my side, she lit up like she had been presented with the best fuckin’ gift in the world.

  I watched as he helped her across the parking lot, holding her bags and laughing at whatever she was saying.

  And I realized something.

  I wanted that.

  I wanted that badly.

  Looking at the woman sitting in my truck, leaning her head against the door watching me, I wondered if maybe I already had it within my reach.

  Chapter 8

  Mondays suck so hard that they should become a part of the porn industry.

  -Casten to Tasha

  Tasha

  “What do you think is appropriate to wear to a wedding you’re attending, with a man you’re dating, and I say dating as a relative term since Casten and I aren’t really dating,” I rushed out.

  I didn’t want her to get the wrong idea.

  There wasn’t anything going on between Casten and I.

  In fact, he’d been somewhat distant since yesterday.

  I’d watched him watch the older couple and something had crossed his face that I hadn’t been able to decipher.

  Something possibly resembling longing, if I had to make a guess.

  “I don’t know,” my sister sniffed. “I’ve never been to a wedding.”