Every Time We Touch: A Redeeming Love Novel (Book 5)

by Parker, J. E.

  I remained mute.

  Cap, however, didn’t.

  Sliding his hands into his pockets, he squared his shoulders, keeping his eyes locked with mine. “I don’t want you alone tonight. Not after your little episode earlier.”

  For a moment, just a brief moment, I was confused. Then realization dawned on me, and my irritation morphed into anger. “You can’t be serious.” A humorless chuckle spilled from my lips. “You worried I’m going to off myself or something?”

  His silence was the only answer I needed.

  “You’ve got to be shitting me,” I continued, my tone laced with disgust. “For chrissake, Cap, I know I’m messed up, but I’m not that messed up.”

  It was a lie.

  A major one.

  I’d thought about eating a bullet before.

  More than once.

  The only reason I hadn’t was because of my mother.

  I may have had no reason to keep breathing, but she’d lost enough already. She didn’t need to lose her only son too. Even if said son was a worthless piece of shit who’d caused her more pain than happiness.

  Cap, smart guy that he is, wasn’t convinced.

  “Man, come on”—I shook my head in exasperation—“you know me better than that.”

  Another lie.

  He didn’t know me.

  Not really.

  “Go to my house,” he said, pulling me out of my dark thoughts. “Meet up with Hendrix, play poker with the rest of the guys, have a good time.” He took a small step forward, closing the space between us. “But you stay the hell put. I mean it, Kyle. You do not leave my house. Not until I get there.”

  Ridiculous.

  That’s what this was.

  The hand holding my keys fisted.

  I moved to step around the big bastard standing between freedom and me but was stopped short when he grabbed my shoulder. It was the second time he’d done it, and I was ready to break every one of his fingers off so he couldn’t do it again.

  My tolerance for his bullshit waned.

  “You and me”—his eyes bored into mine—“need to talk.”

  As far as I was concerned, there was nothing to talk about. I’d said all I needed to say, and I wasn’t in the mood to rehash any of it. “I’ve said all I’m going to say,” I stated firmly.

  Lips thinned into a straight line, he slowly shook his head. “This isn’t over.”

  It was over.

  Done.

  Finished.

  I wordlessly took a step back, jerking free from Cap’s hold. I stepped around him and headed for the dark parking lot. I’d made it halfway to my truck when he called out my name. “Kyle!”

  My feet stopped moving.

  I gazed up at the starry night sky. “For fuck’s sake,” I mumbled. “If this man doesn’t leave me alone, I’m liable to knock him out.”

  “Do you hear me? You do not leave.”

  My skin bristled, my blood boiled.

  The authority dripping from Cap’s voice reminded me of my father.

  He was the last person I wanted to think about.

  I snarled as a mixture of hate and disgust snaked its way up my spine before embedding itself in the base of my skull. Seething, I headed for the back row of the darkened lot, ignoring Cap’s continued shouts from behind me. What he said, I haven’t a clue. I was too pissed, too damn enraged to make out a single word.

  I jerked my truck door open in one quick move and glanced back at Cap one last time. He looked ready to throttle me with his bare hands. “You need help, Kyle.” His words were firm. Resolute. “And I’m going to make sure that you get it—” he paused “—one way or another.”

  A sardonic smile crossed my face. “I don’t need help, Cap,” I replied, my voice tight. “What I need”—I removed the ballcap I was wearing and tossed it on the truck seat—“is a goddamn miracle.”

  I climbed into my truck and started the ignition. After shifting into drive, I stomped on the gas and sped out of the parking lot, tires squealing. I needed to get away from Cap and the memories that haunted me.

  Unfortunately for me, there was no escaping my demons.

  No matter how fast I drove, I could never outrun my grief.

  Two

  Carissa

  I felt like vomiting.

  Seated at a small white desk in my room, I stared down at a not-so-small stack of overdue bills in front of me, most of which had final notice stamped across the front of the page in bold red letters. The scarlet-colored ink stood out, making the words unmistakable.

  Just the sight of them made my head hurt.

  With shaky hands, I picked up two bank statements—one which belonged to me, the other to my father—that lay beside the bills. The balances in both accounts was laughable. Neither possessed balances sufficient to cover the monthly expenses.

  Not even close.

  “Crap,” I whispered to the empty room, feeling the dull ache in my temples intensify. “Just crap.” My stomach rolled as I dropped the sheets of paper and placed my trembling palms flat on the desk. I was so overwhelmed I could hardly think straight.

  Forcing myself to calm down, I took a much-needed breath. “I can figure this out,” I mumbled to myself. “I always do.”

  It was the truth.

  Ever since Mama passed away, I’d been in charge of my family’s finances. Daddy, an over-the-road trucker was hardly ever home anymore. When he was present, which wasn’t often, the grief of losing Mama consumed him, making it impossible for him to think straight.

  She had been his entire world.

  Without her, he was set adrift.

  My sister Heidi would’ve helped if I’d asked, but I couldn’t allow that. Though she was only eleven months younger than me, she was far too innocent to deal with issues like lack of money, soul-sucking bills, and the never-ending stress that accompanied both.

  Therefore, it all fell on my shoulders.

  Most of the time I was okay with that.

  But sometimes what remained of my sanity screamed at me to let someone else deal with the financial mess I found us in. Barely keeping my head above water, and with no one to throw me a life preserver, I feared it wouldn’t be long before I drowned.

  A lump formed in my throat at the thought.

  Drowning was out of the question.

  My family was counting on me and letting them down wasn’t an option. It never had been, and it certainly never would be. As long as I had a single breath left in my twenty-year-old body, I’d find a way to keep us all afloat.

  Just like I promised Mama I would.

  I closed my eyes as a wave of fresh grief sliced at my heart, tearing open old wounds.

  A mere four years had passed since Mama, the woman I loved more than anyone in the entire world, lay in a hospital bed, all hope of survival gone. Nearing the end of a three-year battle with metastatic breast cancer, her body was riddled with pain, her spirit exhausted.

  Despite those things, she refused to give up.

  Worried about what would become of Daddy, Heidi, and me when she was gone, she fought against slipping away even though hanging on meant living in agonizing pain.

  I couldn’t stand seeing her like that.

  I was only sixteen, still a kid, but I knew I had to do something.

  So I did.

  One night, after a whole lot of soul searching, I made a choice.

  That choice? To help Mama let go.

  It was the hardest thing I’d ever done.

  It was a rainy Sunday afternoon when I walked into her hospital room and sat on the edge of her bed. Taking her weak, cold hand in mine, I laced my fingers with hers and looked straight into her half-lidded eyes.

  That’s when I did what I’d come to do.

  Determined to be the strength my family needed, I promised her that I’d care for Daddy and Heidi when she was gone. Through tears and a whole lot of blubbering, I swore to her that after she made it to Heaven, I’d step into her shoes and be th
e woman my family needed me to be, no matter how hard it may be or what life threw at us.

  I then laid down on the bed beside her and curled into her bony side, ignoring the way her ribs protruded from her ashen skin. Biting my bottom lip to keep from screaming in despair, I rested my head on her chest and listened to her heart as it struggled to beat. When I could stand the silence stretching between us no longer, I reached up and gently cupped her sunken cheek. Then, I whispered more assurances to her.

  I’ve got this, Mama, I told her. I promise.

  When her tired, tear-filled eyes slid closed moments later, I knew it wouldn’t be long before she let go.

  I was right.

  Two hours later, with my head still resting on her chest, I listened as Mama’s heart beat for the final time.

  It was the most painful day of my life.

  Remembering the words I’d spoken and the promise I’d made lit a fire in my belly. My eyes popped open, determination roared to life inside me, and the stubbornness I’d inherited from both my parents snapped my spine straight.

  I lifted my chin, squaring my shoulders.

  It didn’t matter that I was drowning with no one to save me. I’d find my own way out of the murky water that threatened to swallow me whole. My family may have been ignorant to the financial trouble that we were in, but they were still counting on me to make sure everything remained okay.

  It was something I’d fight like heck to do.

  Like Mama, I was tough. Strong.

  I’d find a way out of the hole we found ourselves in.

  Picking up extra shifts at the Battered Women’s Shelter where Heidi and I worked twenty hours a week was one thing I could do to dig us out. Finding more houses to clean, another thing she and I did part-time while we worked toward our degrees was another. Both options would leave me with little time to do anything else except go to work and class, but that was okay.

  My family came first.

  Always.

  My nose suddenly twitched as the smell of something—is that smoke?—floated into my room. I leaned back in my chair and inhaled deeply, pulling the scent deep into my lungs.

  Yep, definitely smoke.

  Panicked, I pushed back from my desk and jumped up. My chair tumbled backward from the abrupt move, but I didn’t stop to pick it up before bolting out of my room and down the hall.

  “Heidi!” I hollered, bounding down the stairs, taking them two at a time. My heart raced as the smoke alarms began to scream, one after the other.

  I coughed before covering my mouth and nose with my arm.

  “Heidi!” I yelled again knowing full well that my shouts would likely be in vain.

  The fear strumming through my veins kicked into overdrive.

  Needing to find her, I ran toward the living room where I’d last seen her taking a nap sans hearing aids. “Hei—”

  Her name died on my tongue when our bodies collided, almost knocking us both down. I wrapped one arm around her lower back while using the other to brace us against the wall.

  It was a miracle I kept us from falling.

  Heidi’s wide-eyed gaze briefly locked with mine before darting over my shoulder toward the kitchen. “My pie!” she hollered, pulling out of my hold and running the opposite way.

  I turned, following hot on her heels.

  In the kitchen, smoke poured from the oven.

  Thankfully, nothing was ablaze.

  Heidi yanked open the oven door, grabbed Mama’s beloved oven mitts and pulled out a blackened silver pan before dropping it to the counter. Feeling as though I’d cough up a lung any second, I turned, opened the window above the sink and flipped on the fan above the stove.

  “What on earth did you—” I started.

  The front door banged open. “Girls!” Daddy’s panicked voice echoed through the house.

  “We’re in the kitchen!” I yelled back, hoping he’d hear me over the alarms that continued to blare. “Don’t worry nothing is on fire! Heidi just burnt something!”

  He said nothing as his heavy footsteps pounded against the hardwood floor. Chest heaving, he stormed into the kitchen. With his taller than average height, wide shoulders, honey-colored eyes, shaggy hair, and bearded face, he resembled a frazzled grizzly bear.

  I smiled at the sight.

  Daddy snapped his fingers, drawing Heidi’s attention to him

  Her eyes locked on his lips, ready to read the words he was about to say.

  “What in the world did you burn, Bug?” His eyes were the size of saucers. “I saw smoke coming through the screen door and thought the damn house was burning down. I ran all the way from the barn.” He clutched his chest. “Lord have mercy, my heart feels like it’s gonna burst.”

  Nose scrunched, Heidi looked at what I assumed was once a pie but now resembled a burnt Frisbee. “It was a pie for Maddie,” she said slowly, enunciating each word carefully. “But I don’t think she’ll want to eat this.”

  Maddie was Heidi and I’s boss at the shelter where we worked. My former childhood babysitter, I’d known her all my life, and she was one of the sweetest people I’d ever met. Eight months pregnant, she had less than a month to go before her due date and her wedding date.

  That night Heidi and I were attending her bachelorette party.

  “Shoot, Hendrix eats everything in sight, but I doubt even he will touch this”—Heidi pointed at the pie—“this thing.” She blew out a frustrated breath. “Guess I’ll just throw it away.”

  I laughed at the idea of Hendrix, Maddie’s fiancé, turning down food. Didn’t matter if it was burnt or not, he’d still eat it. The man was a bottomless pit.

  Daddy crossed his arms over his broad chest. “No, you ain’t throwin’ that away,” he barked. “The crust may be burnt but the insides are still good.”

  He opened the drawer next to him, pulled out a fork and crossed the open kitchen. Holding another of Mama’s potholders in one hand, he gripped the side of the pie plate tight and tediously scraped off the burnt crust. When he had most of it removed, he jabbed the fork into a chunk of apple, blew on it to cool it off, and popped it into his mouth.

  Heidi and I both cringed.

  “See? Tastes just fine. Ain’t no reason to waste good food.” He looked down at Heidi. “Y’all know better.”

  Shaking my head, I waved at Heidi, grabbing her attention. When her head turned my way, I mouthed and signed the words, “Want to help me get ready for Maddie’s party?”

  She smiled, then nodded.

  Extending my arm, I offered her my hand.

  She took it immediately.

  Daddy took another bite of pie filling and quirked a brow. “Where are you two goin’?”

  He’d obviously been too engrossed in the food to pay attention to what was being said, or signed, around him. “To get ready for Maddie’s party.”

  “Wait a minute,” he said. “Who’s going to be there?”

  I dang near rolled my eyes. I should have known that question was coming. It didn’t matter if I was twelve or twenty, Daddy still wanted to know who I was going to be with at all times. “Grandmama, Maddie, Hope, Shelby, and Clara,” I replied.

  The latter three were more of my co-workers and friends. Hope and Maddie met in college, and Shelby moved to Georgia a year earlier. All of us met Clara when she showed up at the shelter, half beaten to death and in search of a safe haven for her and her boys.

  She’d come so far since then.

  I was so dang proud of her.

  Daddy huffed out a breath. “There better not be any boys there.”

  I barely—and I mean barely—bit back a laugh.

  To say Daddy was overprotective of Heidi and me was an understatement. According to him, we weren’t allowed to date until we were thirty. Maybe even forty.

  The man was nuttier than a fruitcake.

  Unable to resist teasing him, I shrugged. “Don’t worry, Daddy, I doubt there’ll be any boys there since it’s a bachelorette party.” My answer a
ppeased him. At least until I continued. It was immature as could be, but I couldn’t resist poking the bear. “Though, there might be a few men. You know, like male strippers. It is a bachelorette party after all.”

  Daddy’s face dropped. “I’ll be damned!” he hollered, throwing his fork into the sink where it clattered against the stainless-steel bowl. “You ain’t goin’ to no party with male strippers!”

  My lips twitched as Heidi shoved her face into my arm to keep from laughing.

  “Daddy,” I said evenly, “if you don’t let us go then Grandmama will show up at our front door.” I paused. “And you know it.”

  Grandmama was Maddie’s grandmother, and like Maddie, I’d known her all my life. Before my Nana died, they’d been best friends. Full of spunk and nuttier than a squirrel at an all you can eat buffet, Grandmama was one of the best women I’d ever met.

  Heidi and I both loved her to death.

  Daddy did too, even if he was scared of her and the gun she carried in her purse. A gun which, according to Nana, Grandmama had used to shoot her late husband in the thigh when she caught him running around town with another woman.

  It was a story that I didn’t doubt.

  Not one bit.

  “Y’all better go get dressed then,” Daddy quickly added. “God knows I don’t want that stubborn old bat beatin’ down my door.”

  Smiling from ear-to-ear, Heidi and I walked out of the kitchen, leaving Daddy to his pie.

  “Good ol’ Grandmama,” he mumbled to himself. “Now that woman is plumb damn crazy.”

  I laughed all the way up the stairs.

  * * *

  An Hour Later

  It was after six when Daddy parked his truck in front of Grandmama’s house, the place where Maddie’s party was taking place. Hendrix, along with Evan who worked security at the shelter, stood on the sidewalk, their hands in their pockets.

  Evan walked over, leaving Hendrix behind and opened my door. A rare smile tilted his lips heavenward. “Glad you two are finally here. Grandmama was about to send a search party.”

  I took Heidi’s hand in mine, helping her out of the truck. “Somebody,” I said, glaring at Daddy, “kept making me change clothes before he would let me out of the house.”