I didn’t knock when I got there, and Bo was my first greeter. I felt like an ass for leaving my dog at work. I walked in the kitchen and came face-to-face with my mom. She looked away when she saw my bloody lip and bright pink cheeks. “Aw, Jase, that looks like it hurts.” She busied herself getting a cold rag, and then she scurried back to me.
“It’s not a big deal, Mom.” I waved her away. “I am actually going to take a shower.” I turned and went into the spare room, where I noticed yesterday’s clothes were washed and placed neatly on the bed. I felt beaten down and completely exhausted when I got into the shower. I knew I couldn’t stay here; I had to go home eventually. My sister had a husband and two kids, and the last time I stayed here, it was a strain on her marriage. I took my time in the cold shower, the cold water feeling more like stinging hot water instead of the frigid I was shooting for. I dressed and took my dirty laundry to the front door, and my sister came out of the kitchen when she heard me in the entry.
“Are you leaving?”
I eyed her slowly, and she matched my exhausted appearance. I offered her a wry smile, one that was meant to be understanding, and she moved quickly toward me and gave me a big hug. I wrapped my arms around her and sighed, knowing she was out-of-her-mind worried about me. “After dinner…I need to go home tonight. I could definitely use a great dinner right now.”
She pulled back from me, covering her face with her delicate hands, shielding me from her tears. I followed her to the table, where everyone seemed to be gathered. I was in shock a little; it wasn’t family night, and I looked at every single family member gathered around the table. I took my seat and began to dish up chicken in a red sauce, placing it over large noodles. My oldest sister cleared her throat and I peeked up. She gave me a nasty look. I chanced a glance at my mom, who had a similar look, but there was pity there too. I decided to look down and continue to eat; I was starving and the food smelled wonderful. As far as the women in my life…I figured it had to be that time of month. The best thing I could do was keep my head down and my mouth shut, something you learn quickly at a young age in a houseful of women. I finished, and got up to take my plate to the kitchen and then sneak out. That was when my older sister, Janie, spoke up.
“So, you have nothing to say?” She was such a bitch when she wanted to be.
I straightened immediately and spoke like I was irritated by her lack of sympathy. “Well, Janie, since she was the one who left me, no, I have nothing to say.” Her disapproving stare didn’t waiver, and I gave her a strong stare down.
I saw my dad’s movements out of the corner of my eye. I glared at him, narrowing my eyes. He returned my dominating look, not backing down. “Son, we know you loved her. You just,” he glanced at the younger people at the table before returning his stare to me, “stepped in it.” He was fucking right; I had shit all over me.
My mom was next to speak. “We are worried about you, son. The way you went about trying to hold on to her is not right.”
SHIT. My gaze shot to my sister, Jessie, knowing she told everyone what I’d done, and her husband moved to protect her from my pissed off look. He didn’t have to protect her; there was no way I would hurt Jessie. She wasn’t just my twin; she was my best friend. Although, the what-the-fuck look on my face probably told a different story. My eye began to twitch and my teeth clenched tightly together as the feeling of betrayal and frustration rocked through me.
I tried to explain myself, “I wanted something…I never wanted before. It was something…I know it was stupid, but in the moment, nothing else seemed to matter. I realize how much she meant to everyone at this table, and if I could take it back…I don’t know…maybe I would. She belongs with me.” I scanned the room, trying to get understanding looks from all the males at the table. “She belonged to me.” I was done explaining; no one at this table could identify with what I was saying. They didn’t get it. All I saw in the eyes of my family members was judgment. How could they? They lived a life of equal partnership. Katarina submitted to me. I was the single person she trusted…just me. It was my bond she craved, and I took it. I came inside her, because I fucking needed to solidify our strong connection. It wasn’t equal what we had…I led; she followed. I came buried deep inside her, because she was mine and I could.
I let go of the wooden chair I was clutched onto, and it skidded against the tile floor, creating a screeching sound that boomed when it collided with the table. It was followed by gasps of surprise from all the females.
“Bo, let’s go, boy.” I was frickin’ out of there. Why couldn’t I just tell my sister something in confidence, without her spilling my shit? Why do girls need to talk about everything? Talking never does anyone any good; it just creates ways for others to examine and criticize you for your shortcomings. Nobody knows more than me that I’m fucked up, but the look of disappointment and contempt written clearly over all of their faces only isolated me more, made me believe I didn’t belong with anyone, not even my loving family.
My nephews scurried out after me to say their goodbyes to me. Little Josh met me at the front door first. “I love you, Uncle Jason.” He tightly hugged me.
Jake was at my side next, and I messed up his blond hair with the quick movement of my hand on his head. He flashed me a boyish smile, and I lifted my hand for a high-five. “So, how does the other guy look?” His grin grew, amused by my fat lip and red, shiny cheek.
“It’s not right to hit people, Jake. It was wrong; fist fighting is not the answer to all your problems.” It just feels really good, I wanted to add. I disappeared from my family after that, dreading my own home.
I entered and gazed around at my place like it was a museum; every piece of furniture had its own story. I fed Bo in the garage and grabbed a beer from the fridge as I watched him devour his dog food. I checked behind all the bottles of beer, looking for the black box. It was in a spot I knew she would never find it, and now she would never see it. I remembered the day I bought it; I was supposed to be playing basketball with Dave, but I could only think about making her mine permanently. I knew from the first day that I had to have her, but as the days continued, and my mornings were brighter with her by my side, I changed. I was different. She created a need inside me, and I was desperate to get closer to her.
I royally screwed up when I came inside her. I wanted her to know just how serious I was about her and our future together. I needed her to choose me. I’m man enough to know I made a mistake choosing when we started a family for her. I thought about the moment I was bare in her; it was the greatest fucking feeling I ever felt, my new drug. I was angry at my controlling mentality, the craving I had to be close to her and spill a piece of myself inside her, not because I did it, but because she left.
My eyes drifted back to the box in my hand, remembering that day. I walked through a handful of jewelry stores until I found the perfect one. I opened the small black box and felt anger and sadness as I admired the diamond ring. I popped it closed and shoved it in my pocket, grabbing another beer. I trudged in, seeing a mirage on the couch. There she was, like the day in the furniture store, sleeping on the couch. I wanted that couch, because of her and her tiny body curled up and sleeping on it. I could still see her white skirt with pink flowers and her white boots, her hair falling all around her face. I moved to pick up the decorated pillow she’d rested her head on and smelled it. I finished my beer and opened a new one before stepping out the backdoor to sit on my new patio furniture. Fuck. I was lonely without her.
Chapter Five
Part of Me Was Dying
Katarina
After the upsetting conversation with Jason, I walked in and felt a calming presence right away. Smith stepped in right after me and stood at the door, while the sound of my heels chimed around the table until I took a seat at the only open, cloth, brown chair next to Father Nickels, a Catholic priest. I sat down and was greeted kindly, smiles shared from everyone. I even got a wink from Blake, my childhood friend, across the table
from me. Father Nickels was close to my grandfather’s age, his white hair accenting his blue eyes perfectly. He started the meeting by informing everyone on the progress of Grandfather’s charity, and that topic lead into the process of starting a new project.
My grandfather started this foundation years ago; it mainly helped young children and families. He called it my grandmother’s charity, in remembrance of her kindness toward the defenseless people who struggled. He rebuilt schools, and founded programs for teaching certified trades, all including outreach missions. I helped a lot until college, and then continued on school breaks. Father Nickels was very thorough in filling me in on the progress of the previous project and the interest of the new. He also made it a point to tell me this was his last one. He worked closely with my grandfather, so it wasn’t a shock he didn’t want to continue without him.
I glanced at Gracey in the corner with Smith before I spoke. “I am busy this week, but I am free next weekend if you want to show me. We could fly to Louisiana first, and then New York. You can show me what you have completed, and we can take a peek at the new sites. I would love to take some pictures to show at the charity event. As far as this being your last year, why don’t we wait and have another meeting with everyone about that topic halfway through the project.” I stood up and caught a glimpse of the door. Smith shook his head slightly, indicating for me to slow down. Father Nickels stood up tall next to me and wrapped his arms around me, embracing me tightly. The action was so quick I didn’t see it coming, didn’t have time to dodge it, or prepare myself for the forced closeness.
“I can tell you’re lost, child. Make sure you get some sleep,” he whispered in my ear, and I eased away from him, feeling awkward about the whole interaction. More people pushed up from their seats, all good people hand chosen by my grandfather. This foundation was his baby. One-by-one, like a pack of wolves smelling fresh blood, they made their way over to hug me. I squared my shoulders and propelled myself toward the door, avoiding all the unwanted touching. Smith’s giant body loomed in the corner, leaning against it. He eyed me suspiciously until he recognized the panic in my eyes, and immediately opened the door, but grabbed my upper right arm in the process. This was my life now—no running, no hiding from the beast who was latched onto my arm.
I was being punished for running earlier. He escorted me to the car like that, Father Nickels catching up with me before I disappeared again. “Next Friday morning, 6 am, I’ll meet you at the airport then. I’ll arrange everything once we arrive there, and thank you, Katarina. I know James left this charity in good hands.” I brightened at his thanks; I could tell he was sincere and it warmed my heart. I nodded my head and repeated, “6 am.”
Smith finally let go of my arm when I was buckled, and I let out an exaggerated sigh. I removed my jacket and twisted my body to face the window. After driving a while, Smith cleared his throat. “Are you hungry?” I didn’t acknowledge him. I hated his pity for me, even more than his anger. It didn’t faze him. “We are headed back to the beach house, but that should take over an hour. If you’re hungry, I’ll tell them to stop somewhere.” I remained silent and kept my eyes focused on the passing buildings outside my window. I heard him settle in his seat next to me. He bumped my arm, handing me my phone. I snatched it and glanced at the screen. I’d missed some texts from Heather, but didn’t open them; I just shoved my phone in my purse and went back to gazing out the window. “I…I was there that night,” he stuttered, and I heard emotion fill his low, gritty voice, “the…the night the girl died.”
His admission told me two things: one—that my eavesdropping bodyguard felt the need to share something valuable about a conversation that didn’t regard him, and two—my grandfather really was involved in Jacy’s death. I slowly turned in his direction, attempting to pull off casualness, while my heart sped up and thundered at a fast pace. I was nervous and scared about what he was about to divulge. My eyes eased up and found his sunglasses masking his expression. I battled in my head to face back toward the window to mask mine as well, but he swiftly removed his glasses, surrendering his facial shield.
The action was stiff, and he inhaled as though even remembering was difficult, and speaking about it was even worse. “Your grandfather bought a new car for your mother. He was driving it…wanted to make sure everything worked right. I followed in a car directly behind him. We were stopped at a light when it happened. The red Civic came flying around the corner, she was on her phone when she hit a hole in the road. She overcorrected and hit your grandfather. I thought he was gone for sure.” He paused, gripping the bridge of his nose before continuing. “She never slowed down. I was in shock for the first time in my life as I watched the scene unfold and couldn’t respond. Your grandfather climbed out the window and hurried over to help the young girl. He was wounded and in shock, but I heard him speaking softly to her, trying to calm her. He put his hands on her throat trying to stop the bleeding, but it was too late. He didn’t kill anyone; I was there, and it was a miracle she didn’t kill him.”
I pivoted in my seat away from him, sadness engulfing me, sadness for my grandfather, and sadness for Jason. I stared out the window the rest of the car ride, not focusing on anything, just avoiding Smith. I didn’t want to hear anything else.
We arrived at the beach house, the wind pushing against my back, forcing me toward the three-story vacation home. I had mentally envisioned a long run on the beach, but instead, I had some chicken and veggies, and then soaked in the large Jacuzzi tub. My feet throbbed, and just the bloody appearance of the soles was enough to make me cringe. I tried to relax in the bubbly bath, bombarded with thoughts about the story Smith shared with me in the car.
I fell asleep reminding myself how important it was not to feel. Feelings made people vulnerable, and vulnerability showed weakness; it allowed others to hurt you. Numbness was my way of coping, my self-preservation. My dreams were of Grandfather drenched in blood and Jason watching. I hardly slept. In the morning, I got up early and found shorts and running shoes in my closet. I couldn’t lie there anymore; my plan was to sneak out and have a long, quiet jog before everyone woke up. I opened my door slowly, tiptoeing out into the long hall, and a series of alarms went off. The deafening sirens made me feel as if I was stealing a car.
Within seconds, I had Smiths Two and Three at my attention. Annoyance and frustration fueling my tirade, I stormed around them, a loud growl escaping my lips. I headed for the back door, determined they were not going to kill my morning alone time. Smith was at the back door with shoes and long running pants on. He flashed me a triumphant smile, and it made me want to pull my hair out and scream. “Ms. Covington,” he said as he opened the door, pretending to be a true gentleman. What an ass.
“Did you sleep like that, old man?” I didn’t wait for an answer; I just took off on my morning run. The smell of the ocean wafted all around me, and I lost myself in the beauty and freedom of the water. The wind pressed against me, creating the sensation of an embrace, which I happily accepted. The mist hit me as I sprinted next to the water and I closed my eyes. We ran for close to two hours; Smith was gasping behind me when we returned. It was my turn to flash him a victory grin. “So maybe if I can’t fire you, I could get you to quit.” He was bent over huffing and puffing, and didn’t even try to look up or respond. I was kind of surprised he didn’t quit right then.
The morning flew by, with Gracey meeting me at breakfast. She kept me busy with papers and things while the phone was attached to her ear as she made appointments and relayed stuff I said to other people. My father showed up for lunch, which was a surprise. He ate a spinach salad with me and did most of the talking. He sent my mother to a place in Arizona, calling it ‘a great spa place’. I knew the place, and this just meant they were fighting and he shipped her away to figure things out. I was a lot smarter than people gave me credit for. He asked me to go sailing with him over the weekend, but I told him I wasn’t feeling well. I didn’t say anything the rest of the
visit.
I strolled along the beach after lunch as Smith Two followed. I relaxed in the sand, enjoying the sound of the waves and the heat from the sun. I closed my eyes and drifted off. The sound of the waves and the warmth of the sun reminded me of Jason’s heart, and his body wrapped around mine. My sleep was short-lived, because Smith woke me a couple hours later. I slowly traipsed to the house and continued straight to my room, crawled under the white satin sheets, and didn’t leave for four days.
Gracey tried to get me up and feed me, but I felt extremely tired and achy. I was sick and uncomfortable, my misery the only thing comforting me now, and all I wanted to do was sleep. It was like part of me was dying, and the other part didn’t put up a struggle. I was in an abyss of negative energy, and I was too exhausted to fight.
Monday night, there was a knock on my door, but I ignored it. It made me wonder slightly who would knock, because everyone around me never gave me the courtesy of knocking. They would just barge in. Finally, the curiosity got the best of me. “Come in,” I mumbled. I pulled the covers over my head, my shield to block the light. I heard muffled movement around me, and then the bed dipped down on my left side.
“Katarina, I know you’re under there, and I hope you have clothes on, because I am going to pull the blankets back.” Then, there was silence, and my heart stirred out of fright, because I had no idea who this was. “On second thought, if you’re naked, that would work too.” My smile slipped across my face at his witty comment and I giggled.
The covers were slowly dragged from over my face and I blinked, attempting to focus in the light. “Shit, Katarina, you look like hell.” I continued to rack my brain, trying to figure out who he was. I blinked some more, rubbing my eyes with my fingers. He glanced away and smiled. He was shy and embarrassed, and it was adorable. I laid there and observed his nervous actions. His brown hair was slightly shaggy and completely straight, tucked neatly behind his ears. He had a strong jawline with a shadow of a beard. It worked for him. He had lean arms and shoulders, and for some unknown reason, he was now laughing under his breath.
Forever Distraction Page 6
