by Carina Adams
I only shook my head. Hunger had long been forgotten. I just wanted sleep.
He hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll be right back.”
I took a deep breath and braced my hands on my thighs, leaned back against the sissy bar, and stared at nothing specific. Rob appeared moments later and pushed an ice-cold plastic bottle into my hand. I heard his voice, yet didn’t hear the words. I was just too tired.
“Hey.” I squinted against the bright light of the sun as Rob slid the sunglasses from my face. His fingers were strong against my chin as he lifted it up. “I need you to drink some water.”
Watah. If it had been another time, I would’ve told him he sounded stupid with his pathetic accent. Instead, I just watched him as I tried to figure out what he was talking about, oddly comforted by his accent.
His entire face turned hard as he scowled at me. “Dammit, Crissia!” His tone was stern, but he wasn’t yelling. In fact, he was barely whispering. Then he lifted a bottle to my lips. “Drink.”
I took a small sip, and when he didn’t move the bottle, another. When he tried to give me more, I shook my head. He sighed but twisted the cap back on and dropped it into one of the saddlebags before slipping my glasses back into place. Then, in one fluid movement, he was in front of me.
His hands reached behind him and found my own before he tugged me closer. Over his shoulder, his eyes found mine. “Lean against me and get some rest.”
I almost melted into him. Instead, I pushed back, visions of my brain matter scattered across a highway darted in front of my eyes. “Don’t want to fall,” was all I could push out.
He smiled and some part of my mind took a snapshot to remember another time. I didn’t think Rob had ever smiled at me that way before. Usually he was sneering or making fun of me.
“I won’t let you fall,” he promised, tugging my hands further around him. “Hold on tight, brat.”
Giving in, I slid closer until my thighs were pressed tight around the outside of his and my fingertips touched as my hands draped across his stomach. Sighing, I leaned my uninjured cheek against his back and closed my eyes. The bike rumbled to life beneath us, and I felt a small lurch as we began to move, but all I could hear was the steady beat of his heart, lulling me to sleep.
When the engine cut off, I forced myself to wake up. My eyelids were heavy, the rest of me sore and stiff, and it took a moment for my gaze to clear and my mind to catch up. The smell of freshly-cut grass greeted my nose first, reminding me of summer days. We’d parked in the shade of a large barn, one I knew I recognized but couldn’t place in my sleep haze.
“I need to stand up,” Rob said softly, allowing me to let go of him and sit back, balancing myself.
He lifted himself off the bike and stretched, his large muscles flexing as he did. He glanced around, then plucked me off the bike the way one would lift a small child. My lips started to form an objection, but as he settled one arm under my knees and cradled me to his chest, I forgot my words.
He strode across the yard, as if he wasn’t carrying an extra hundred and forty pounds. I lifted my head from his shoulder as we rounded a corner and the little house came into view. I whipped my attention to the man carrying me.
“Liam’s back from Florida already? I thought he had a few more weeks.”
Rob tensed but continued walking. “Not yet. He has a caretaker come out and look after things.”
He didn’t put me down as he slid a key into the lock and turned the handle. Once we were inside, he headed straight for the back spare room, the one I’d spent more nights in than I could count. I was on the bed, my shoes off, and a puff quilt over me, before I could object.
Then Rob was gone, the door clicked shut quietly behind him.
I told myself to get up, to go check on him, to make sure he was okay. My body wouldn’t cooperate. Instead, darkness called to me once more.
When I opened my eyes again, the room was pitch-black. I knew where I was immediately; the familiar scent of my home away from home comforted me. Yet, for a second, I lost a few years and was a teenager once again, waiting for a little bitty thing to push open my door and climb into my bed. Until reality came back, I was happy.
The emptiness I got whenever I remembered that Hannah was gone took over. I sat up and turned on the light next to my bed, eager to force away the memories.
Liam hadn’t changed a single thing, not in all the time I’d been gone. The painting of two girls—one a teenager, one a toddler, both with dark brown hair—watching horses run in a paddock, still hung on the wall. I’d pointed it out to him when we’d been at the mall Christmas shopping, and tears had stung my eyes when I’d found it under the tree marked ‘To Ris, Love Hannah Banana’. My brushes, lotions, perfume, and jewelry box still covered the top of my bureau. Along with the picture of Hannah and me that I’d turned over in a fit of rage after her death.
Blue, Hannah’s plush dog, along with one of her beloved blankets, still sat in the overstuffed chair by the window, waiting for their little girl to come back and claim them. I couldn’t see it from where I sat, but I knew her favorite book was lying on the stand next to the chair. I’d put it down after she’d fallen asleep in my arms one night, and I’d left it there after, not ready to admit the truth.
If I listened hard enough, I could hear her little voice talking and singing, the giggle contagious. Sometimes I forgot why I hadn’t been back to Liam’s, even though it was the one place I’d always felt safe. Then I remembered.
I couldn’t breathe. Tears burned my eyes, the old familiar ache settling in my chest. I missed her, and I wasn’t sure that would ever go away.
Refusing to wallow, I pushed myself out of bed, wincing as I wiped at my tears. A quick glance in the mirror reminded me why—my face was beat to shit. I’d been so focused on Hannah, I’d completely spaced the events of the morning.
I hurried for the door, needing to find Rob, desperate for interaction, even if it was us arguing.
He was in the kitchen, standing at the stove stirring a pot lazily. I almost didn’t recognize him; barefoot and wearing one of Liam’s plaid flannels instead of his leather, he looked comfortable.
“Something smells good.”
“It’s just soup.” He shrugged as he glanced at me. Then he sighed, scowled, and pulled open the freezer. Handing me an icepack, he lifted his chin. “Put that on your cheek, try to keep the swelling down.”
I hissed as I pressed it to my skin.
“I need to go to the grocery store; there’s practically nothing in the cupboards, but I wanted to make sure I was here when you woke up.” He put a glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen on the table. “Sit. Take those.”
I did what he asked, finishing the whole glass. I hadn’t realized I was so thirsty. My stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten all day. As if in answer, Rob set a bowl of chicken noodle soup in front of me.
He sat across from me but didn’t serve himself.
“You’re not eating?”
He shook his head. “Nah. I had something earlier.” He watched me, looking slightly relieved as I gently lifted the spoon to my sore lips and tipped the liquid into my mouth. “How’d you know Liam was in Florida?”
The question startled me, making me wonder if he already knew the answer and was simply baiting me. But I didn’t feel the need to tell him anything, regardless of the fact Liam was his uncle. Rob didn’t own him.
I refused to meet his eyes. “Our parents are close. They talk.”
I hesitated, spoon in mid-air, feeling like an ass. I wasn’t sure if Liam had ever adopted Rob. To me, he’d always been Rob’s father, Hannah’s grandpa Pop-Pop, even though Rob had never called him Dad.
I cleared my throat putting my spoon back into the bowl. “My mom and dad talk to Liam often.”
“So, you talk to your parents a lot then?” His tone was full of disbelief. He hadn’t bought the lie.
“Do you not talk to Liam a lot?” I shot back, diverting.<
br />
“Not as much as I should.”
I made the mistake of looking up, the sadness in his voice too much to ignore. I was just about to tell him he should call his uncle more often when he twisted his lips.
“Probably as much as you talk to your mom.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “So, let’s try this again. How’d you know my uncle Liam was in Florida?”
I could lie, tell him Matty had told me. Then again, I wasn’t sure my brother knew. Instead, I avoided the question and took another bite.
“It’s fine if you don’t want to answer. But here’s another question for ya. Why are your boots in the closet? Why is your shampoo in the shower?”
I frowned, only wincing a bit at the pain it caused. “How in the hell do you know what I use for shampoo?”
Rob only lifted a shoulder. “I stay at your apartment.”
“The apartment I share with your sister,” I argued. “So, what makes you think that shampoo and those boots, don’t belong to Katie?”
He snorted, but there was no amusement on his face. “The boots are at least two and a half sizes too small for Katie. And she threatened to poison me if I screwed with your hair products. Apparently, it’s expensive shit and you get pissy about it.”
His eyes burned into mine, demanding the truth. “Why are there pictures of you everywhere?”
I took a deep breath. “I spent some time here a few years ago.”
“You don’t say.” His eyes widened in annoyance. “So, you and Liam…” His words drifted off.
I didn’t like what he seemed to be suggesting, as if my relationship with Uncle Liam was dirty. It made my stomach churn. Liam was probably the only person in the entire world, other than Matty, who I knew would never hurt me.
“He’s like a dad to me,” I snapped. “Half the time, I think I love him more than I love my own. God knows he certainly had more patience and understanding than mine ever did.”
“Yeah,” Rob snorted. “’Cause your parents are shitbags.” He rolled his eyes as if he thought my parents were the greatest things that ever lived. “You still see Liam?”
It was pointless to argue about my parents. He’d always adored them, almost in a hero worship way. In his eyes, they could do no wrong; my mistakes were mine alone. I was used to that mentality and judgment, but it still hurt coming from him.
I sighed. “I talk to him every few days. He comes up for supper at least once a week when he’s in the state.” I swallowed, dreading the next words. “I don’t come here anymore.”
“You knew my daughter.”
It wasn’t a question. I didn’t miss how he said, ‘his daughter’ and not ‘Hannah’. I nodded. “I spent my summers and every school vacation here. Some weekends, too.”
I thought of Hannah and how she would’ve loved her daddy. I used to tell her stories about him, before she could even understand the meaning behind my words. Yet it wasn’t a coincidence that ‘Dadda’ had been her first word. I smiled at the distant memory of her saying it over and over, beaming and clapping when I copied her.
“You loved her.”
Again, not a question, yet he sounded so surprised, as if I was incapable of that emotion.
“I love her,” I clarified, my tone snappy. “With all my heart.”
His eyes narrowed, watching me closely, as if trying to determine the truth behind my words. Then he pushed himself away from the table and stood abruptly. “I need to go to the store. I’ll be back.”
I dropped my spoon and stood. “I’ll come, too. You don’t have to wait on me.”
He shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere with you when you look like that.” He motioned to my face. “Especially when I look like this.” His fingers circled in front of his own. “There’s a lot of shit I have no problem doing, but I’d never beat a woman. I won’t let people think I did.”
He turned and hurried from the room before I could stop him.
I finished my soup and then cleaned up, washing the dishes and putting everything away—just like I had hundreds of times before. I wandered around the house, surprised by how many things hadn’t changed in the last few years, yet how different the house felt without Liam. I missed him here.
Liam went to Florida every winter. He had since Hannah left us. I knew it was because he’d gone into a deep depression the months after Ali took custody, the loss of the little girl just too much. Then, after she passed away, he hadn’t gotten better.
I’d barely noticed, too lost in my own grief. I let myself go, succumbing to the old cravings that I hadn’t had in years. The alcohol and drugs had numbed me to everything, making it so I couldn’t feel the pain, but they’d also taken away my ability to care about the people I’d loved. When I should have been checking on my second dad, I’d been too busy snorting shit up my nose and doing things I’d never let myself remember.
I was better now. Some days I had to remind myself that I wasn’t that girl anymore. I’d fought my way out of that hole of despair.
Liam had, too. Now, every December through May, he lived in the sunshine state to help combat the depression. He’d hinted more than once that I should apply for colleges down there. Or, at least in the south, where it was sunny and bright and I didn’t have to worry about running into anyone from my past. I wished I’d listened.
Then I wouldn’t be so worried about…
Dale. The letter. My stomach filled with lead as I sank onto the couch in the den.
With everything else going on, I’d pushed that stupid notification out of my mind. I didn’t know what to do. Until earlier, I could’ve argued, at least to myself, that I was strong enough to face Dale, to tell him to back the hell off, and to leave me alone.
Then that man at the clubhouse, the one they’d called Shooter, had grabbed me. Just thinking about him made me nauseous. There had been other men around, others had watched, yet no one had stepped in. No one had stopped him.
My skin crawled as my mind warred. Flashes of what happened tried to come forward, yet some part of me blocked them. While I knew what he’d made me do, and could still feel his skin under my fingers and the way his nails dug into my scalp, the rest of the day was blank. The memories were there, just out of reach, a shadow in my brain. I knew that if I focused hard enough, if I wanted to remember, I’d be able to. I didn’t think I’d ever want to.
I’d been through this before.
After Dale, my body had turned against me. According to my therapist, once Matty had been arrested, I’d gone into some self-preservation state and my mind had buried the memories it felt were a danger. In some ways, that had been a blessing. In others, it was a curse.
I might not have remembered everything that happened with Dale, but what I did recall had given me a warped view of reality for a few years. Part of me had believed he had loved me because that’s what he had hammered into my head, over and over. I had argued with everyone who claimed he was a monster, even though I knew what he really was; because if he was horrible, what was I? I started to use because it was the only way I could cope. And as the memories got worse, so did my habit.
Until Hannah had come along. She’d given me a reason to get sober. Liam wouldn’t let me be around her if I wasn’t, and I didn’t want her to see me all fucked up. God knew she’d been through enough. So, I’d gone to the therapist and rehab and the AA meetings. I’d done it all, for her.
Then Hannah had died.
And back down the rabbit hole I’d run. My life spiraled out of control. I’d set fire to the world just to watch it burn. I wanted everyone to feel my pain—the pain I simply wanted to numb.
Then, in one of my moments of clarity, while looking for a bag of little white pills, I’d found a keychain with a little fingerprint on the back. I knew the little girl in the locket smiling back at me would’ve been ashamed of what I was. What I’d let myself become.
I’d picked up the phone and called my sponsor. I raged. I detoxed. I went through hell.
I’d got
ten clean. For me. To be the person I was supposed to be. And for Hannah. Because she would never get to be the person she had been destined to be.
I was so young, but I felt like I’d lived a hundred lifetimes in my twenty years. My life had been one fucked-up disaster after another, yet somehow I’d always managed to turn it around. I could do it again this time. In the grand scheme of things, this wasn’t that bad. All I needed was a solid plan and some patience.
First, I’d tell Matty about Dale. I’d admit everything and together we would figure out how to handle the situation. There had to be laws that protected the victim once the offender was out of prison. I only had a few more weeks of school, and even though I didn’t want to, I could always move to my mom’s house. Maybe Liam would let me live with him, just until it all blew over.
As for Shooter, I’d never be able to visit my brother again. As long as he was part of that club, I didn’t want to. After what had happened, I couldn’t imagine Matty, Rob, and Tank being a part of something like that. It disgusted me.
All I had left to do was figure out how to get my keychain back. I’d given it to the girl behind the bar for safe keeping. Something had told me I could trust her. Now that he knew I’d known Hannah, I’d ask Rob to get it for me.
Everything would be fine. It had to be.
Unable to stand the sound of silence, I reached for the remote on the coffee table and flipped on the TV.
11
Rocker
“Where in the fuck are you?” my best friend seethed into the phone.
“She’s safe.”
“She’s safe,” Matt scoffed. “Motherfucker says ‘she’s safe.’ Goddamn it.” He sighed. “I took Katie back to their apartment last night, trying to reassure her that everything was fine, convinced I’d find you there. Know what I didn’t find? My little sister.”
I rolled my eyes. If the moron drove my sister all the way to her apartment and didn’t bother to stop at Uncle Liam’s on the way home, it was his issue he didn’t know where we were, not mine. Trying to keep a handle on my temper, I watched the bacon jump and sizzle in the frying pan as I attempted to flip a pancake over. Cris hadn’t come out of her room yet, so I assumed she was still dead to the world, but I wanted her to have a decent meal in her before we had a serious conversation and I demanded answers that only she could give me.
