Frozen

by L. A. Casey

  “Neala,” I breathed, and shook my head.

  Neala swallowed. “Finish what you were saying; go on.”

  I couldn’t move or speak.

  Neala’s eyes began to well up. “Finish it. Tell our brothers how much you regret last night and how much of a mistake we are.”

  Oh, Christ.

  I was frantic. “Neala, please. You don’t understand—”

  “I understand fucking perfectly! You promised we would be different . . . You promised we wouldn’t hate each other again.”

  A nervous sweat broke out across my forehead. “We won’t—”

  “Liar! Don’t fucking lie to me!” she screamed as tears streaked down her cheeks.

  This was bad.

  This was very bad.

  I wanted to tell her how I really felt, but I clammed up, knowing Sean and Justin were listening intently. I didn’t know why, but I froze and couldn’t say the words she needed to hear.

  When I didn’t respond to Neala, she angrily wiped at her face and shot me a look filled with so much hate it knocked me back a couple of steps. I felt sick.

  “Please,” I managed to get out.

  I didn’t know what I was saying please for, but I said it anyway, hoping she would have mercy on me.

  “Please, what?” she hissed.

  I blinked. “Don’t hate me.”

  She looked at me for a long moment and said, “I don’t hate you, Darcy . . . I regret you. I regret the day I ever met you.”

  I felt like I had had the wind knocked out of me by her words. I was about to reach out and go to her but she turned and stormed down the hallway and back into my bedroom. She slammed the door closed so hard the living room walls shook.

  Sean and Justin stood idle by the doorway as they looked at me.

  “Darcy . . .” Justin began, but I didn’t stick around to hear what he had to say. I followed Neala down the hallway. I stood outside my bedroom and swallowed down the bile that rose up my throat.

  I’d only just had her, and in a matter of seconds I’d lost her.

  I felt empty.

  I felt like nothing.

  I placed my forehead on my bedroom door and exhaled.

  I regret you.

  That was the worst thing she could have said to me. It fucking hurt. I squeezed my eyes shut, and for the first time in my entire life I wished Neala had just said she hated me.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  I was going to be sick.

  I stumbled forward into Darcy’s bedroom with his bed sheets wrapped around my naked body and slammed the door shut. I grabbed my rumpled clothes from atop the dresser, and out of the corner of my eye I caught something pink in the top of Darcy’s slightly open top drawer. I opened the drawer fully and found the pink-wrapped, and moderately damaged, doll box.

  I focused on not screaming. He was still trying to take the doll from me, after everything – that was his main priority. I steadied myself and bent over just in case I did throw up, but when nothing happened I straightened and began to pant. I used one hand to hold the bed sheet around me, and my free hand to press against my forehead.

  This wasn’t happening.

  Darcy regretted last night?

  He regretted the sex we’d shared?

  He regretted me?

  “Neala?”

  I choked back a sob, but could do nothing about the tears that freely streamed down my face.

  “Leave me alone, Darcy. Please,” I said through my tears.

  He was as silent as a mouse, because I didn’t hear him come into the room after me.

  “I didn’t mean what I said.”

  I sat on the side of his bed and reached down for my clothing. I didn’t have my knickers – they were in Darcy’s kitchen bin – so I grabbed my shoes and pulled my heels on instead. I stood up and uncaringly dropped the bed sheet from around my body. I wasn’t embarrassed; if anything I felt disgusted. Darcy had seen every inch of me last night, but he’d said it was a mistake, so it meant nothing to him, which meant changing in front of him would also mean nothing to him. I pulled my dress over my head and fixed it on my body.

  “No.” I sniffled. “You did mean it; you just didn’t mean for me to hear what you said.”

  Darcy moved closer to me – I could feel him behind me.

  “That’s not true, Neala. I said what I did because—”

  “I don’t care why you said it; I just care that you said it. Last night shouldn’t have happened, Darcy.” I put on my blazer and turned to face him. “You were right. I did wake up regretting what we did. It was a mistake.”

  I lied.

  I flat-out lied through my teeth.

  I refused to let Darcy know that he had just broken my heart for the second time. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d pulled one over on me.

  “This is the last time I’m allowing you to have the ability to hurt me. I never want to see or speak to you ever again. You’re a pathetic coward, and if by some chance you even have a heart, it’s not working; it’s frozen solid.”

  Darcy’s face paled and his shoulders slumped.

  “Neala . . . I’m so sorry. I feel horrible. Please, I care about you so much. I don’t even know why I said what I did. I swear I didn’t mean it.”

  I walked forward, and just as I was about to pass him by I pressed the doll box against his chest. “This should make you feel better; it’s want you wanted after all, right? Well, lucky you, you got want you wanted. You win, Darcy. Congratulations.”

  Neala: 1. Darcy: 2.

  I let go of the box and walked out of Darcy’s bedroom; then finally, after days of being trapped, I stepped foot out of his house. I made a silent vow to myself that I was never going to return.

  When I was ready to leave, I left Darcy’s house and found my brother was hot on my heels.

  “Neala?” Sean said when I clumsily trekked the deep snow towards his truck. It was difficult to get my footing with heels on, but I managed it. I doubt I looked like anything except an idiot, but at least I didn’t fall.

  “Take me home. Please,” I said as my body trembled.

  Sean put his arm around me and quickly ushered me around his truck and to the passenger side. He helped me up, then shut the door. The heat in the truck from Sean’s journey up to Darcy’s house sent shivers up and down my spine. My skin tingled, and the pain that had taken up residence in my head eased slightly.

  Sean shouted something to Justin who, standing in Darcy’s doorway, nodded. I looked away when Sean came around to the driver’s side of his truck and got in. He started the engine and slowly backed up until he could turn the truck around and get us onto the road leading down the mountain.

  I think I managed a minute or two before I burst into tears.

  “Baby girl.” Sean sighed and reached out with his left hand and rubbed my shoulder.

  I lifted my hands to my face and shook my head. “I’m o-okay.”

  Sean removed his hand and changed the gears on his truck, and then focused on driving down the slippery mountain roads.

  “Did he hurt you?” Sean asked.

  I glanced at him through my fingers and noticed his knuckles were gripped onto the steering wheel so tight that they were turning white.

  “Not in the way you think.” I sniffled and wiped my eyes.

  Sean glanced at me. “In what way did he hurt you?”

  I looked down and shrugged. “He said we were a mistake, that we didn’t go together. He said he regretted me.”

  The tears came again when I finished speaking and I hated myself for it. I wanted to be strong, I wanted to say ‘fuck Darcy,’ but my heart hurt so deeply over him.

  “Is that all he did?” Sean asked, his voice venomous.

  I cleared my throat. “Yeah . . . I mean, when we . . . had sex . . . it hurt and I bled a little, but Darcy said it was normal for me the first time.”

  Things were silent for a moment until Sean growled low, deep in his throat, “I’m
gonna fucking kill him!”

  I widened my eyes and looked at him.

  He was furious.

  “Don’t. It was c-consensual.”

  Darcy had hurt me, but Sean would kill him if he thought he’d forced himself on me, and that was the furthest thing from the truth. Sean looked to me and softened his eyes before he looked back at the road and narrowed them again.

  “If he wasn’t going to live up to whatever he made you believe, then he should have stayed the fuck away from you. I didn’t think you were a virgin. Fuck. A fucking virgin! I’m going to murder the little prick!”

  Oh, shite.

  “Sean, please,” I cried.

  My brother muttered curses before he exhaled a large breath. “Why don’t you want me to hurt him?”

  “Because I care about him!” I snapped, then sank low in my seat, bruised over my admission.

  I wished I didn’t care.

  I wished I hated Darcy again. Things were so much easier when I hated him . . . but I couldn’t. I cared about him. I really liked him, and I felt sick that he didn’t feel the same way.

  Sean looked at me with wide eyes. “You really care about Darcy? I mean, I always had an inkling, but it’s for real?”

  “You th-think I would give myself up to someone who I didn’t have a-any feelings for?” I asked, annoyed he would think of me in that light.

  Sean shook his head. “No, of course not. I know you’re not like that. I just mean . . . Since when do you care about Darcy?”

  Since last night.

  Well, it seemed I had always cared about him on some level; I just hadn’t realised it until last night.

  I wiped my runny nose with some tissues from Sean’s glove box. “Things changed between us in his house. We called a truce. I thought we even became friends and things would be good between us . . . but apparently I was wrong, after hearing what he said to you and Justin.”

  Sean cursed some more. I tuned him out, because the more I listened to him the more upset I got. I looked out the windows at the snow-covered trees and focused on them as we drove.

  I felt sick with myself.

  I couldn’t believe I’d acted like a sex-deprived maniac last night. I’d practically torn Darcy’s clothes from his body and begged him to take me. I was beyond mortified, and I was deeply hurt.

  Why did he say what he did to Sean and Justin?

  Was last night just about him pulling the ultimate prank? Stripping me of my virginity and making me enjoy it in the process?

  I was so unsure, and that killed me.

  I wanted it to be real, but the chance that it was probably fake gutted me.

  “I don’t want to talk about this anymore, Sean.”

  Sean was silent for a moment; then he said, “I’m sorry, Sis.”

  I looked to him and gave him a small smile. “Don’t be sorry; you did nothing wrong.”

  Sean’s face fell, his mouth straightened to a thin line, and his eyes looked sad.

  I hated that my situation with Darcy upset him so much.

  I looked forward and folded my arms across my chest and enjoyed the silence of the rest of the drive back home . . . and when I say home, I mean my parents’ house.

  “Dinner is in two hours,” Sean said as we pulled up. “Go get showered and into something warm – preferably something that covers your arse instead of exposing it,” he muttered.

  His big-brother ways brought a genuine smile out on my face, so I leaned over and kissed his cheek as he parked his truck in my parents’ driveway. “I will . . . Thanks for saving me.”

  “Always,” Sean mumbled, and sighed as I climbed out of the truck.

  I folded my arms across my chest as I hopped around the truck and onto the cleared pathway.

  “Watch out for black ice. I put salt all over, but I might have missed some spots,” Sean called out from behind me.

  “Okay,” I shouted, and slowed my pace.

  The freezing cold breeze had gone right through me by the time I reached my parents’ front door. I balled my hand into a fist and banged on the door.

  “Cavewoman, press the bell,” Sean said from behind me.

  I rolled my eyes and pressed the doorbell.

  A moment went by before my mother opened the door. She was wearing a Mrs. Claus onesie and she had antlers on her head – it was enough for me not to take her seriously.

  “You’re free!” my mother shouted.

  I raised my eyebrows when Dustin’s voice shouted from the living room, “Frrreedddoooommm!”

  I looked over my shoulder to Sean, who was grinning. “He watched Braveheart with us lads last night.”

  Of course he did.

  I turned back around and gave my mother a closed-lipped smile. “I need a shower.” And to be left alone.

  My mother placed her hands on my cheeks. “You were crying.”

  I blinked my eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  I moved around my mother and walked by the living room and down the hall to the stairs. My parents had never touched my bedroom when I moved out, so it was still the same as when I’d left it at twenty-two. It meant I had clothes here and everything was familiar.

  Familiarity was something I needed right now.

  As I headed up the stairs I heard my mother ask Sean, “Where are Darcy and Justin?”

  “Darcy can’t make dinner today; he’s busy!” I shouted, and continued to walk up the stairs.

  When I was in my old room I broke down, then almost immediately mentally scowled at myself for it.

  “Stop it!” I hissed, and shook my head.

  I forced my mind to think of simple things, like getting a shower.

  Hot water. Shower gel. Shampoo and conditioner.

  Heaven.

  I stripped myself free of my blazer, dress, and heels – vowing to burn each item as it hit the floor. I walked into the en-suite bathroom and turned on the water. I waited a few moments until steam poured from the showerhead.

  I stepped under the hot spray of water and sighed with delight. I did nothing for a few minutes but stand there and revel in the heat as each toasty droplet hit my skin and caused tingles to spread over the surface of my body. When I was relaxed, or as relaxed as I could be, I reached for my shampoo and squeezed a huge amount on my hand. I spread it out over my head with both hands and rubbed it into my scalp until a thick lather of suds appeared. I roughly scrubbed my scalp, then dragged the suds down my hair and gave the middle and ends a good cleanse. I washed my hair out and repeated the step simply because I hadn’t washed it once while I was at . . . while I was up the mountains.

  I growled at myself for almost slipping up and thinking of the one thing that I refused to think of. I switched my mind back to my shower routine and conditioned my hair. When it came time to wash my skin, my hand automatically reached for my favourite shower gel, my vanilla-scented one, but I quickly grabbed the strawberry one instead.

  I never wanted to smell the scent of vanilla ever again.

  I began to wash my skin, and as I looked down to my chest I froze. After I moment of squinting I spotted a love bite on my left breast. I rubbed the loofah over the bite. I gritted my teeth and rubbed the loofah back and forth over the area until it stung, using the physical pain as a reminder to never let myself be hurt by Darcy again. I looked over my arms and legs and spotted some light bruises and scrapes from last night’s events with Darcy. When I thought of him I slapped the shower wall and burst into tears.

  I couldn’t escape him.

  I roughly scrubbed myself with the loofah, trying desperately to remove any and every trace of him from my body. When I was finished my skin was red, raw, and sore. I slid against my shower tiles as I sank down to my behind. I hissed when I sat down; between my thighs was tender and sore.

  I cried harder with the reminder of why.

  “I hate him,” I whispered.

  No, you don’t.

  I placed my face in my hands when my mind whispered the
dreaded truth. Hating him was the easiest thing I had ever done. I’d hated him for the last twenty years, but why did one night render that habit now impossible?

  Fucking men.

  I cried until I couldn’t cry anymore, and sat on the floor of my shower until the water ran cold. I turned the shower off and got out, then dried myself with the towel on the towel rack. I went back out into my bedroom and froze when I spotted my mother sitting on my bed.

  “Tell me what happened,” she said.

  I swallowed. “What are you—”

  “I asked Sean what was wrong with you and he told me to come talk to you. But when I came in here I heard you crying in the bathroom. What happened between you and Darcy that has upset you so much?” My mother’s voice was stern.

  I didn’t want to talk about it, but I did at the same time, and if I was unloading this on someone, it was going to be my mother.

  I blinked my swollen eyes and whispered, “We slept together.”

  My mother stared at me for a countless number of seconds in silence. I gripped my towel and stared directly back at her in silence. I didn’t know what else needed to be said, so I kept my mouth shut.

  “You and Darcy?” she asked.

  I rolled my tired eyes. “No, me and Frosty the Snowman got it on . . . Of course Darcy, Ma.”

  My mother swallowed, but said nothing.

  It was very unlike her, because, well, she never stopped talking.

  “Say something,” I pleaded.

  My mother looked up at me and with a serious face she asked, “Was he any good?”

  What?

  Fucking what?

  “Ma!”

  She unexpectedly laughed. “What?”

  Really?

  “You can’t just ask me something like that! Can’t you see I’m upset about the . . . situation?”

  My mother frowned. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I just wanted to make you smile.”

  “Tell me Darcy isn’t coming to dinner – that will make me smile,” I stated.

  She sighed, and that instantly gave me my answer.

  “I’m not going to dinner if he will be there, Ma. No way.”