by L. A. Fiore
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2016, L.A. Fiore
All rights reserved
This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.
ISBN-13: 978-1541345751
ISBN-10: 1541345754
Cover design © Hang Le, byhangle.com
Editing by Editor in Heels, Trish Bacher
eBook formatting by Erica Smith
Typeset graphics and title page art by Melissa Stevens, The Illustrated Author
Work Song…Hozier
F**kin’ Perfect…Pink
The Glory of Love…Bette Midler
Say You Won’t Let Go…James Arthur
You and Me…Lifehouse
Jealous Again…Black Crowes
Please Don’t Leave Me…Pink
I’m Still Here…Jem and the Holograms
I Can’t Live Without You…Bad Company
Piece By Piece…Kelly Clarkson
What If You…Joshua Radin
Trouble…Pink
Still Into You…Paramore
Perfect Memory…Remy Zero
Baby Mine…Bette Midler
The Sound of Silence…Disturbed
Shake It Off…Taylor Swift
Lost Stars…Adam Levine
Run…Snow Patrol
TABLE OF CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
EPILOGUE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
My horsey was brown with a white spot on his head. The ride went around and around and Mommy waved every time we went by. Daddy’s big hands were on my back so I didn’t fall off and he lifted me from the horse when the ride was over.
Mommy was waiting for us. “Did you see us, Mommy?”
She was looking at Daddy and smiling. She always smiled at Daddy and hugged him and kissed him. I was glad she didn’t do that to me because it was gross.
“How about some ice cream, pal?” Daddy asked.
“Chocolate chip!”
“You got it.”
Mommy wrapped her arm around Daddy, resting her head on his arm.
“Mommy, are you getting ice cream too?”
She didn’t answer me. She never did. She was too busy staring at Daddy and smiling.
Mommy was crying again. She was crying a lot lately, and shouting at Daddy. She used to be so happy with Daddy. I wished it were like how it used to be.
“Hey, buddy.” Daddy walked into my room. He was big. I had to look all the way up to see his face. “You okay?”
“Mommy is crying again.”
He sat next to me on my bed. “I’m going away, pal.”
A trip! I loved riding in the car. “Can I come?”
“No. I tried, I really did. Thing is, both Mommy and Daddy want you, but Mommy is sad. You can make Mommy happy again, right?”
I missed Mommy’s smile. She always smiled when Daddy was around, and I looked just like him. Maybe I could make her happy again. “I think so.”
“That’s my boy.”
“Where are you going?”
He stood and looked down at me. Mommy wasn’t the only one who was sad. “Just away.”
“When will you be back?”
“I’m not coming back. It’s going to be you and Mommy from now on.”
I didn’t understand. Why was Daddy leaving? Was that why Mommy was crying so much? Why couldn’t I go with him? My lower lip started to shake, but I didn’t want to cry. Not in front of my daddy.
“You’re the man of the house now, Damian.” He leaned over and kissed my head, his big hand stayed on my cheek for a second before he turned and walked out. I wanted to be the man of the house for him, but he was the one who played with me, who talked to me, who tucked me in at bedtime. Mommy didn’t, Mommy never had. I jumped from my bed and ran after him.
“Take me with you. Daddy, take me with you.”
“I’m sorry, son. I’m so sorry.”
“Daddy, please take me with you.”
Mommy wailed as Daddy reached the front door, but I just stood in the hall and watched as he walked out. Mommy dropped to the floor, and I was scared at how sad she was, but I was the man of the house now. I walked over and kneeled down next to her.
“It’ll be okay, Mommy. I’ll take care of you.”
“Go away.” She pushed me and I fell back on my butt. “Just go away.”
Daddy had been gone for almost a whole year. He used to call every week at the same time and I would sit in the chair in the kitchen and wait for his call. After a few weeks he started calling every other week and then every month and now he didn’t call at all. I asked Mommy for his address so I could write to him, we were learning how to write letters in school, but she wouldn’t give it to me. When she wasn’t crying she was mean, saying things to me I didn’t understand but knew were bad. And then there were times when she was nice and she would talk to me like she cared. One time she even touched my cheek like Daddy used to do. I was so happy that she was happy I drew her a picture in art class and couldn’t wait to bring it home to show her. That day she was in her room; she stayed in her room a lot after Daddy left.
“Mommy?”
She smiled at me and I felt full inside. “What do you have there?”
I walked to her bed. “I made this for you.” I had spent days on it. It was the merry-go-round, the last really good memory I had of my daddy and mommy and me.
She touched the paper and her eyes got all wet. “It’s beautiful.”
She looked at me and touched my cheek again. “You look just like him.”
I puffed up my chest because I wanted to be just like my daddy.
“Thank you, Damian. I love your picture.”
“Do you want to watch TV with me?”
“Maybe later. I need to sleep.”
“Okay.”
I walked to the living room, but for the first time since Daddy left I felt like the man of the house because I had made my mommy smile.
Two days later I found my painting in the trash can. She threw away my picture. It was the first time I felt a pain in my tummy that hurt and it was the first time I cried myself to sleep, but it wouldn’t be the last.
Mom was shouting again. I didn’t know what set her off this time, but she was tossing things and swearing at the top of her lungs. Her rants were usually about Dad and always turned on me because I was there to take it.
She grabbed my head and forced my face to the mirror. “Look at yourself. You’ll never be anything. You’re nothing. Do you hear me? Nothing.” Her lips curled up like I had seen in my cartoons, but I di
dn’t laugh because when she did it, it scared me.
“He took the best years of my life and left me with you. He’s a monster, a fucking devil, and you are just like him. His evil little spawn.”
My body started to shake as the tears fell. I didn’t want to cry, I was nine, but sometimes I couldn’t stop them. Dad never came back; he had moved on and married someone else. He said he wanted me, but I knew that wasn’t true. He left me just like he left Mom. And Mom hated Dad, hated him as much as she had once loved him. And I hated both of them. There were times I even thought terrible things, wanted to hurt them, wanted to make them feel what I felt every day since Dad left. I knew it was wrong. You were supposed to have kindness in your heart, love and understanding, but I felt hate and anger and rage. When she hit me, I wanted to hit her back. When she screamed curses at me, I wanted to scream them back. I had even thought a time or two how easy it would be to smother her with a pillow when she passed out from drinking too much.
“No fucking good,” she said as she grabbed her glass and headed out of the room. “He should have fucking taken you with him, but he didn’t want you either.”
I wasn’t any fucking good. The ugliness that burned inside me was wrong. Maybe that’s why they didn’t want me; because they knew I was fundamentally bad. Maybe I really was the devil.
Only eight months, I only had eight months and I was out of here. The events of September 11, 2001 put things into perspective…as shitty as my life was it could always be worse. And watching the first responders, running into hell to help others…I wanted to be a part of something that made a difference. I couldn’t lie. I wanted to get away from the hell I lived in too. I had met with an army recruiter and had taken the aptitude test. I was enlisting. All I had to do was complete high school.
My home life had gone from bad to a nightmare. My mother was a drunk and the more she drank the nastier she got. I took to staying out late, coming home only when I knew she was passed out for the night. I often hung out near a garage in the neighborhood because I liked cars and working on them. After a couple of months of coming around, the owner offered me a job. I had only been sixteen at the time and didn’t have working papers, but he paid me under the table. I never told him about my mother, but he knew. He even opened a bank account for me in his name so she couldn’t touch my money. And she had tried. Screaming and raging that I had stolen it and that I was no good and then she took it and spent it on vodka. I had gotten into the habit of not carrying much money and often went without food since there was never anything to eat at home.
It was lunchtime and I had forgotten to hit the ATM, so I was going without lunch again. I’d stop later to get something to eat on my way to work. I took a long drink from the fountain and didn’t realize anyone was behind me until I turned to see Cam Ahern. He was in some of my classes. I usually avoided people, but he had the kind of personality that made it hard not to respond to him when he set his mind on talking to you.
“Have you got money for lunch?”
He was also one of a few who knew the situation at home. He had somehow gotten me to talk about it during one of the conversations he had instigated.
“I’m good.”
“No you’re not. I’ve never heard a stomach growl like that. When was the last time you ate?”
I didn’t like pity or charity. “I’m good.”
“Bullshit. You can treat next time.” He pulled out his wallet and I was about to object when my eyes landed on a picture that caused my chest to grow tight and my pulse to pound. She had to be his sister, they had the same eyes, but where his hair was blond, hers was brown and wild with curls, and she was smiling so big it took up her whole face. I couldn’t look away, just stared because I had never seen such unabashed joy before or someone so beautiful.
“Crazy hair, isn’t it? That’s Thea, my twin sister.”
His words jarred me from the moment and I wiped my expression because no way would he want a guy like me sniffing around his sister.
“It fits her personality because she’s a goof.” He handed me a few bills. “Let’s eat, I’m starving.”
I hesitated in taking the money, but I was hungry. “I’ll buy lunch tomorrow.”
“Good deal.”
We did have lunch the next day and every day after. And Thea. I couldn’t get her out of my head. I wanted to know the girl with the crazy hair and beautiful smile. Then one day Cam invited me home for dinner. I didn’t know at the time that by saying yes I would be forever changed.
“Boys, dinner. Thea!”
I stood in the hall out of sight as Cam came running down the stairs. He was only older than me by two minutes, but he played the older sibling card all the time. As far as ‘big’ brothers went, he was cool. He didn’t tease me, he didn’t mother me, he let me hang with him and his friends and he always had a shoulder for me to cry on. I loved Cam, even when I thought he was being a dork. But it wasn’t my brother that had me hiding in the shadows; it was the lone figure that followed after him. Damian Tate. I had seen Damian at school, but I never imagined he would be having dinner at my house. He just seemed so removed from everything, like he was a celestial being who had come to Earth to checkup on his charges. My brother knew him, and well enough to invite him home for dinner. I might have to rethink Cam’s dork status. I had watched Damian earlier in the kitchen as he stood in the corner while Cam whipped them up an after school snack. He didn’t talk very much, he watched like someone used to being on the outside looking in. And his eyes, a pale green that hid so much—a sadness that was too heavy a burden for someone so young to carry. As he had done earlier in the kitchen, he turned those eyes on me and it was the feeling that accompanied his silent stare, like he was as aware of me as I was of him, that I liked…a lot.
“You coming to dinner, kiddo?” I jumped out of my skin.
“Dad!”
“You’re skulking again.”’
“I’m not skulking. I was observing.”
“You were checking out Cam’s friend.”
“I was...” I thought to wiggle out of it, but what was the point. “Oh all right. I was checking out Damian. He’s cute, but he looks…sad.”
Dad looked past me to where the guys were settling at the table before brown eyes that I shared looked back at me. “Have you ever thought about following in your old man’s footsteps? You have a knack for reading people.”
“Becoming a cop? There are a couple of problems with that idea. First, you know my feelings about running, so chasing down a suspect is not going to happen. And blue is not a good color on me.”
Dad chuckled. “Come with me. I have something for you,” he said.
“For me? Why?”
“Why not?”
“But it’s not my birthday.”
“So.”
He took me to his study and reached for the little chest he had on top of his bookcase—a chest that was usually locked. He opened it and pulled out a small package.
“For me!”
“Open it.”
My hands shook with excitement as I tore off the paper to discover an MP3 player. “Oh my God. How did you know I wanted one of these?”
Dad gave me a look. “You’re asking this of the man taking the detective test next week.”
“Good point.” I threw my arms around him and hugged him hard. “Thank you.”
He held me close for a few minutes, long enough that I said, “Geez, Dad.”
He released me, but the look in his eyes had my next comment dying on my tongue. “Dad?”
“Edward, Thea, dinner is getting cold.”
“We better hurry or Mom will have us doing KP duty instead of Cam.”
I wondered what had brought on that look, but the moment had passed. “Thank you for the music player.”
“Maybe I’ll surprise you with something else. We can make it our little thing,” he said.
“Can I surprise you too?”
He pulled me close as we walked to
the dining room. “Absolutely.”
Dad took his place at the head of the table and the only other open seat was the one next to Damian. Normally, I had an appetite that put Dad and Cam to shame, but not that night. Every part of my body felt on edge, like I was next in line for the rollercoaster…excitement and fear waging an internal war. Damian was the same age as Cam and I, but even at seventeen he was a big kid. The space between our bodies was only inches and I felt him, my entire left side burned from the proximity. He hadn’t yet spoken to me, but I didn’t need words because he was such a big presence, even being a quiet one—and he was beautiful, even more so because there was just so much hidden behind those eyes. I was pulled from my thoughts when I heard Cam laughing.
“He can cut his own food, Thea.”
It was only then that I realized I had been cutting Damian’s meatball. Mom had made her mega meatballs; they were the size of a cat’s head. A quarter pound of her deliciously seasoned ground beef and I was leaning over his plate cutting his like he was four. My cheeks instantly warmed as I not so gracefully removed my offending limbs from his personal space.
Glancing at him, those pale eyes were looking back. “Sorry. I...they’re just so big.” I wanted to fade into the wallpaper. Cutting his meatball? What was wrong with me?
He didn’t say anything, but his lips tilted up just slightly and in response my heart pounded so hard it should have cracked my ribs. His beautiful lips parted and he spoke his first words to me. “Thank you, Thea.”
Three words and I was a goner. I didn’t understand what I felt for this boy nor did I appreciate the uniqueness of it at the time, but I did know that little smile and those three words was all it took for Damian Tate to claim a piece of me that I would never get back.
I was pretty sure when Dad put me in self-defense class, the intent was not to use my newfound skills on catty bitches. However, I was very close to doing just that. Brittany and Taylor, the banes of my existence, ate mean girls for breakfast. I understood the psychology behind why they were horrid little douchebags. They liked Cam, but I had encouraged him to stay at arm’s-length because with the amount of action they saw it was anyone’s guess what was growing in them or on them. Apparently, they didn’t have a problem with being sluts, but they didn’t like people calling them that. Their relentless passive-aggressive shit had started at the end of last year. I would have much preferred them punching me in the face. Sure it would hurt like hell, I might even suffer a broken nose, but the stories I could tell. More importantly, they’d get over their vendetta. Instead, I got smiles from one side of their mouths and sneers from the other. Cat scratches from manicured nails. Today was no different. Taylor’s locker was just a few down from mine; how was that for crappy luck. It was daily that I was subjected to their particular brand of torture.
