by Carina Adams
“More?” I asked, my voice rising to an annoying pitch. “No. Nope.” I shook my head. “There was never anything more between Rob and me.”
“Yeah?” He arched an eyebrow in challenge. “How many guys have you lived with?” When I didn’t answer, he continued. “Screw that, how many men have you let touch you when you were sober? I don’t need an exact number, ‘cause I’ll lose my fuckin’ mind if you tell me, but I’m gonna guess it’s pretty fuckin’ low.”
“It is.” Non-existent, actually. There was no way to know what I’d done when I was drunk or high, but there hadn’t been anyone when I was sober.
“So, your argument is that one day you just decided to move in with the man you don’t even like to be around? On a whim?”
“There was a little more to it, you wise ass,” I argued. “But, yes. That’s pretty much what happened.”
“So, you’re not in love with him?”
“God, no,” I answered immediately.
He nodded, smirking in the annoying way he did. “Yeah. I totally buy that.”
I threw my hands in the air, annoyed as hell. “It’s the truth.”
“You said that.” His eyebrow rose. “And he’s gonna tell me he’s not in love with you either?”
“God, no!” I assured him. “Rob’s not even sure he likes me. Love is most definitely not an emotion we’re feeling.”
Matt took a long, deep breath. “So, you just leave school, drop everything, and move in with a man who is—in your own words—not even sure he likes you. And you think I’m just gonna sit back and be okay with that shit?”
When he put it that way, he made a really great point. Shit.
“It’s Rob. I didn’t move in with some random stranger.”
“You could’ve fucked him without living with him. I only would’ve kicked his ass a little bit.” His haughty tone made me want to slap him.
“Of course.” I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “You would assume it was something sexual.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” His face twisted, and for the first time since the conversation began, he looked pissed.
I quirked a brow. “Oh, I don’t know, Mateo. Maybe it means I’ve heard some stories.”
“We’re not talking about me” he snapped, looking almost embarrassed.
“No? You want to talk about my sex life, then we’re going to chat about yours, too, God’s Gift.”
He pointed at me while his other hand gripped the back of his head. “I don’t want to talk about your sex life. Ever. If I had my way, I’d kill any man who looked at you the way Rob does.”
“It’s Rob,” I said again. “I wouldn’t get too worried about the way he looks at me. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“He defended you to me.” Matty pointed at the kitchen table. “He sat right there and told me if I was mean to you, he’d beat my ass.”
I waved a hand in dismissal. “He’d never really hit you.”
My brother laughed. “Yeah, he would. That saint of yours already has. Once. I have no doubt that he would again. For you.”
I didn’t know what to say. Finally, I stopped thinking so hard and just spoke from the heart. “Rob’s my friend. I actually like spending time with him, even though it’s completely stupid and really weird. When he’s around, I don’t worry about things like I do when he’s not.” I stared down at the floor. “I’d think that you’d be happy about it.”
My brother tugged on my hair like he was seven again. “I’m not mad about it, Crissia. It actually makes sense. I feel like an idiot for never seeing it.”
I threw a hand in the air. “For God’s sake, there was nothing to see!”
His lips lifted in a smug smile. “You keep telling yourself that.”
“I don’t know how to explain this to you any other way. Rob and I have a weird connection. He’s different than I thought. I know I’m safe when he’s around. I need that. Especially now.”
“Okay.” He wasn’t convinced, but he was dropping it. His expression turned concerned as he inhaled slowly. “We need to talk about that.”
I met his eyes. He meant we needed to talk about Dale. “I know.”
He clapped his hands together, his entire demeanor changed as he straightened. “But not right now. Let’s get some food, then we’ll tackle the heavy shit.”
“This wasn’t heavy?”
“This?” He tipped his head back and laughed. “Nah, little girl.” He reached out and ruffled my hair like he used to when we were kids. “You said whatever is goin’ on with Rob isn’t serious. I believe you. Glass is something else entirely.”
I nodded as nerves invaded my stomach, replacing everything else. I’d put it off for years. There wasn’t a way to avoid it any longer. Even if I’d had twenty years to prepare myself, I still wouldn’t be ready to tell him the truth.
“This is really the place?” Matty asked as he slowed the truck down in front of my new apartment building, his forehead wrinkled as he stared up at the looming brick.
“Mmhmm.” I nodded.
I was too distracted to pay attention to what he was saying. He’d driven onto the street the opposite way than Rob usually did, giving me a chance to see the shops down the street. There were quite a few with ‘Help Wanted’ signs hanging in their windows. I made a mental note to walk down first thing Monday morning and talk to each about getting a part-time job.
Rob and I hadn’t talked finances yet. I had no idea how much I was going to owe him for rent or any other expenses. I only had a few hundred left in my bank account, and I knew how fast that would go. A job that close to home would be perfect.
Matt found a spot much closer than Rob had. The lot was much emptier, which made me think my neighbors were younger and all out enjoying nightlife in the city. My mind grasped at anything random and unrelated to the conversation my brother and I were about to have.
“I don’t know where I assumed you’d be living, but this wasn’t it,” Matty commented as we walked toward the elevator.
I pressed the call button and turned toward him. “Are you trying to tell me this is a horrible neighborhood?”
He shook his head. “Actually, no. I’m surprised there isn’t more security on the door, though.”
I pointed at the ceiling and the cameras Rob and I’d discovered earlier as the elevator arrived and I stepped inside. “I guess the front entrance requires a key fob. And there is a security officer here twenty-four hours a day. The stairs and elevator all lock down in an emergency.” Matt’s eyebrows rose. I shrugged. “When we left, we rode down with a really sweet woman from the fifteenth floor. She told me.”
“Good.”
We didn’t say anything else as we stepped off on my floor and I led the way toward my apartment. I fumbled when I pulled Hannah’s keychain from my pocket. I wished that she could be there, to live with her daddy, but it gave me a smidgen of peace to know that Rob missed her as much as I did.
Matt walked into the living room, his head swiveling as he looked all around the space. His eyes widened a bit as they lingered on the couch, his nostrils flared and his jaw ticked, but he didn’t say a word in objection. If he wasn’t going to mention my sleeping quarters, I sure as hell wasn’t either.
“We haven’t been shopping yet,” I explained. “If you’re thirsty, we have water and beer. I think we have beer,” I mumbled as I hurried to the refrigerator, desperate to avoid the coming conversation.
“We just ate,” Matt pointed out from a seat at the table on the other side of the half wall. “And you’re too young to offer me a beer.”
I slammed the door and turned to him, running my hands over my butt. “Right.”
My brother leaned back in his chair and watched me thoughtfully. “How long have you been writing to him?” I opened my mouth to spew some bullshit or deny it, anything to buy more time, but Matt held up a hand to stop me. “I can still read you like a book. You’ve been distracted and worried all afternoon. And it’s not
because you didn’t want me to see that you’re now living in a studio with my best friend.” He motioned around the room.
That uncanny ability of his to know what I needed before I did or what I was thinking before I voiced it. I wondered how long he’d suspected that I’d communicated with Dale. Yet he’d never asked.
“I can explain,” I offered, desperate for him not to be angry with me.
“It doesn’t matter why. I’m sure you had your reasons. Maybe you felt guilty. Maybe you missed him. That’s your shit to work through, and if you need help, we’ll get it for you. Right now, for my own peace of mind, I need to know if you’ve been writing him the entire time or if it was recent.”
Disappointment mingled with anger on his face. I hated that I was the reason he looked so miserable.
“I haven’t written to him in years.”
“Years?” He pushed his cheek out with his tongue as he made a non-committal sound. “Huh. So, what, you’d write him a letter the same time you wrote one to me? Two birds, one stone?”
“No.” I shook my head. “That’s not what happened.”
“Yeah,” he scoffed. “I’m sure it wasn’t. Just like I’m sure that he never meant to hurt you. And that a grown-ass man was in love with a twelve-year-old girl. It was all just a big misunderstanding, right? Isn’t that what you said on the stand?”
“Matty,” I started slowly, not sure what to say. This was why I hadn’t told him. I knew that it would rip open those old wounds and hurt him more. “You said the reason didn’t matter.”
“It doesn’t,” he snarled. “When did you stop writing to him?”
“Why does that matter? It’s been a long time.”
“It matters.” He slammed a fist onto the table. “When?”
I propped my hands on my hips and narrowed my eyes. “You need to calm down.” I knew he wasn’t mad at me. He was mad at the situation and didn’t know how to handle it. In his mind, I’d always be the little girl who he had failed to protect.
“Calm down?” He spread his arms wide. “Do I look like I’m not fucking calm to you?”
“You know, now that you mention it, you’re right. You are the picture of calm. Somehow, I must’ve missed it under that giant vein popping out of the middle of your forehead.”
He shot me the nastiest look he’d ever given me. “Did you tell him you were in Portland?”
“No!”
“Crissia.” He clasped his hands in front of him, as if he was praying for me to say no. Or praying for his sanity. “If you did, we can fix this. I’ll take care of it. I need to know what you said. What he said.”
I gaped at him, wondering what in the hell kind of person he thought I was. “I haven’t responded to him since Hannah was born.”
His eyes burned into me. I left the kitchen and hurried to the closet where I’d stashed my suitcases. Hidden in a secret pocket in the bag on the bottom of the pile, I found what I was looking for.
I dropped it onto the table in front of him with a thud and stepped back. He glanced at me before his eyes fell back on the pile of letters bound together with binder clips and elastics. He didn’t reach for it.
“What the fuck is that?”
“Every letter I’ve ever gotten from him.” I refused to look at them and focused on my brother instead. “Organized chronologically by year.”
“Holy fuck.” He stared at them as if he couldn’t believe it. Or hadn’t believed me. “You never told anyone?”
I shook my head. No one knew. Not even my therapist.
“Did you read all of these?”
“No. Some of them you’ll have to open.”
He looked at me then, his eyes meeting mine, the questions clear.
“I need you to read them,” I whispered. “I’ve kept them all this time.” I cleared my throat looking for the words I needed to say. “I’d always planned to give them to you. I just thought we’d have more time.”
“More time for what?”
I hated hearing his worry. Knowing what I was about to say would make it even worse caused my heart to ache. “He’s going to come for me. I promised him that I’d go with him. And he swore that nothing would keep him away—that he’d find me.”
“You were a child,” Matty dismissed my worry as if it wasn’t a big deal. “You didn’t know what you were saying.”
I slid into the chair next to him and closed my fingers around his. “I know that. You know that.” I tipped my head toward the pile in front of him. “He doesn’t care.”
Matt rolled his eyes, unable to understand. “Jesus, Cris. I’m not gonna let him hurt you. Rob’s not gonna let him near you. We’ve got you.”
I took a deep breath. “I need you to listen to me.” I squeezed his hand. “There are—” I broke off when I felt him tense. I couldn’t tell him. I closed my eyes, digging deep to find strength I knew I had to have somewhere. I just couldn’t do it.
“There are what, sweet pea?”
I tried to swallow but the lump in my throat wouldn’t let me. I forced my eyes open. “There are things you don’t understand.” I bit my lip hating how much of a chicken shit I was. I reached out and pushed the letters toward him. “I need you to read these. Please.”
“Whatever you’re not telling me, whatever you feel you can’t say —”
I cut him off. “Please, Matty. Don’t make me. I thought that I’d have more time to prepare myself.”
He blinked and gripped my hand. “I got you. Whatever it is, I got you. Nothing in that shit is going to make me love you less than I do. Nothing that dickhead said is going to change anything. You hear me?”
I nodded, but deep down I knew that was a lie. When he found out what I’d done… I shook my head, forcing the memories away before they could invade. I hated that Dale still had a hold over me, even after all this time. The prick was still in my head, calling the shots.
Matt stood up and shrugged out of his Bean Nighe vest, tossing it over the pile, as if to vanish Dale and his evil promises from my mind.
“Let’s watch TV until Rob gets home.”
“You’re staying?”
“It’s your first night in Boston. I’m sure as shit not leaving you alone.”
“I don’t even know what we have for channels,” I explained as I followed him toward the couch.
“We’ll figure it out. Just like we always do.”
I knew he wasn’t just talking about the television.
21
Rocker
I had no fucking clue where the asshole on the bike in front of me was going and didn’t know what to expect when we got there, but I followed him anyway. When he aimed his bike toward the bridge and Chelsea, I shadowed him. When he slowed down and turned into a residential neighborhood, I started to wonder if he’d gotten lost.
When Tank pulled into a private drive and got off his bike, I stopped behind him, still idling. The compact three-story home with a farmer’s porch was wedged onto a small lot with barely enough room for a faded picket fence between it and the home next door. The front yard was tiny yet well kept – a chain link fence separated it from the wide sidewalk and the busy road. Tank hurried to the end of the driveway and pulled a gate across the end, closing us in.
I frowned at him as he walked back to his bike; I was about to demand answers, to find out where in the hell we were, when Tiny came out the front door. He walked to the edge of the small porch, lifted his chin in greeting, and pointed toward the driveway that ran along the right side of the home.
“I’ll meet you in the garage.”
Tank gave him a weird salute and climbed back on his Harley. Before anyone said another word, Tiny disappeared inside and Tank drove away. I shook my head, following once again.
Fuckers. There better be a reason for the cloak and dagger secrecy. We could’ve met at the damn clubhouse.
The garage was a remodeled barn that was attached to the back of the house, completely hidden from the road. I didn’t know what was
in the second story, but the first floor was a dream come true for anyone who owned a bike or wanted to work on cars. I walked around, checking out the tools, completely in awe. One day, I told myself, I’d have a garage just like it.
“We’re upstairs,” Tiny’s gruff voice called from the breezeway. He didn’t wait for us to follow before he turned and disappeared.
“Come on,” Tank muttered, motioning to me.
“What are we doing here?” I asked, keeping my voice as low as possible.
“You’ll see,” was all my friend would mutter back.
The second floor was a mini-version of the Bean Nighe clubhouse. There were a few couches and chairs scattered around, the walls were dark, a bar was housed in one corner and a pool table in another. Right in the middle was a large table with eight chairs.
Two of which were being occupied.
I drew up short when I saw the patched brothers. “Wiz, Preach.” I nodded in greeting before turning back to Tank, utterly confused.
He read the questions on my face. “Give it a minute,” he answered under his breath. “It’ll all make sense in a few.”
“Take a seat,” Tiny instructed from the bar as he grabbed two bottles of beer. I pulled out the closest chair and dropped into it as unease crawled up my spine. When he held a bottle in my direction, I took it just to have something in my hands.
He sat between Tank and me. “We have a problem.”
No shit, Sherlock. “And here I was thinking you’d brought me all the way out here to play Rummy.”
“Canasta, maybe. But do I look like the kind of motherfucker who plays Rummy?” Tiny asked before taking a long pull off his beer.
“Fine,” I growled. “We’ll play canasta another night. If someone doesn’t start talking and explain why I’m here with you assholes instead of home in bed with my ol’ lady, I’m gonna start knocking heads together.”
I’d meant to utter some bullshit threat, to demand that one of them tell me what in the fuck I was doing there, but the rest of the words stumbled out on their own, surprising even me. I’d been worried that I was going to screw up, admit that Cris was nothing to me. My mind was ten steps ahead, though, making up shit.
