Young Love Dies Hard: The Young Brothers, Book 1

by Nikki Lane

  “Where are all your friends?” I asked in an attempt to change the subject. I wasn’t ready to face the decision yet on how far I was willing to go to forget the pain I’d been burying since watching Jacob walk off in this very same parking lot.

  He looked behind his shoulder. “Guess they got tired of waiting for me.”

  “Well, how are you going to get home?”

  “Same way I got here, I suppose. My truck.”

  “Do you know the way?”

  “No, but the GPS does.”

  I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. Randy reached in his back pocket and pulled out a small flask. “Want some?” he asked before taking a long sip.

  “No, I’m good. Thank you.”

  He took another healthy sip from the flask.

  “You sure like your whiskey, huh?”

  “Show me a country boy that don’t.” Another sip from the flask.

  I had enough bad memories to know that this situation wasn’t heading anywhere good.

  “Well…” I said. “Thanks for walking with me.”

  “Not a problem at all.”

  I opened the car door.

  “Say…” Randy held the door open. “I’m not as tired as I thought I was. How about you join me for a drink right now? Save me from having to summon the courage to ask you out again.”

  Another streetlight fizzled out.

  “Thank you,” I said, “but I’m pretty tired.”

  I reached for the door to close it, but Randy held it back.

  “Come on, now. Just one drink.”

  My heart knocked in my chest. I did a quick scan of the empty, and now even darker, parking lot. “I said no thank you.”

  I tried to pull the door closed again, but he held his grip. I clenched my keys with sweaty hands.

  “Please let go of the door.”

  He positioned himself in the space between me and the car door and took another swig from the flask. “I don’t understand why you’re being so difficult, darlin’. Maybe I should make it easier for you.”

  He took a few deliberate steps closer. I smelled the whiskey on his breath. A chill zipped through my spine, raising the hair on the back of my neck.

  “I’ll ask you again. Why don’t you join me for a drink?”

  He grabbed my hands and pulled me away from the car.

  “I’m not going anywhere with you.” I tried to rip my hands away, but his grip was too tight.

  “That’s where you’re mistaken.”

  I pressed my shoes against the asphalt. The soles scraped against the ground as he continued to pull me toward his truck. I doubted this was his first attempt at this kind of thing. But this wasn’t my first rodeo, either. I knew how to fight back.

  I lowered my head, wrapped my mouth around his upper arm, and bit down.

  “Shit,” he cried, letting go of his grip to clutch his arm. “Come here, you bitch!”

  I almost made it back to the car. He grasped my arm just inches from my car, and my keys hit the ground. His hold was so tight it hurt.

  “Let me go,” I begged. “Please.”

  He ignored me and once again dragged me through the dark parking lot to his truck.

  “Help!” I shouted. “Somebody, help me!”

  Randy twisted my arm and put a sweaty hand over my mouth. “Shut the fuck up.”

  I nodded, wincing from the pain searing through my already tender shoulder.

  I kicked. I flailed my arms and knocked his hat off his head. But he had freakishly good reflexes for someone who’d consumed as much whiskey as he had.

  I dropped like a weight to the ground to make my position harder for him to handle.

  “Get up,” he said.

  I kept my body limp, and he tried to hoist me up. When his attempts weren’t working, he clasped my hands together and pulled me the last few feet by my wrists. My backside scraped against the hard surface beneath me. Sweat dripped down my face and stung my eyes.

  “Time to get up,” he said. He hooked his hands under my arms and hoisted me up. “Get in there.”

  I shook my head. “I told you I’m not going anywhere with you, asshole.”

  His hand met my face with a hard slap. The skin of my cheek blazed.

  “Now that’s not how a lady’s supposed to talk.” He opened the door of the truck with his free hand and jerked me toward the seat.

  “I guess I’m no fucking lady.” I could barely catch my breath but managed to spit in his face.

  He wiped it off with the back of his hand. “You’re going to wish you never did that.”

  Another hard slap against the cheek. The sound of his hand hitting my face made my stomach sick. He pulled in close and crushed his mouth on mine. I bit his lip and he pulled me back.

  “The fightin’ kind, huh?” he said with a smirk. “Don’t worry, darlin’. I like that.” He pressed me close to his body again.

  I lifted my knee and rammed it into his groin. He recoiled and loosened his grip on my arm. I sprinted toward the club. But Randy got hold of my shirt. He held on until the fabric stretched and the threads ripped.

  I used all I had to resist him, every trick I’d used to rescue myself from Doug. But it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t strong enough to take this fight alone.

  I screamed again until my throat was raw, holding on to every last shred of hope I could muster. Randy tried to silence me with a few more hits, harder ones this time. Each blow was a cruel token of what I’d learned from past experience but chose to ignore tonight for whatever reason—never let your guard down.

  I felt the warm trickle of blood from my nose. The harder I fought against him, the angrier he became. I dug my nails into the skin of his cheeks, pressing his face away from mine. He groaned in pain as I scratched his skin raw.

  “Hey!” someone shouted from far off. “What the fuck is going on?”

  The voice sounded familiar, but the ringing in my ears was making it difficult to discern who it belonged to.

  Randy tossed me on the floor, and I fell like a brick. From under my swelling eyelids, I could barely make out an image of him, wobbling back and trying to regain his balance. He did a panicked dance looking for his hat before giving up and hopping into his truck. The engine rumbled with a deep purr and then there was the sound of tires kicking up gravel as he peeled out of the parking lot.

  “What the fuck is this?”

  Sal.

  “Maeve?” he shouted.

  I thought I caught a hint of concern in his tone. But maybe I’d been knocked around too much.

  I lifted an arm in the air to signal I was still alive and conscious.

  He hovered over me, his round face flush with exertion. “Holy shit,” he said out of breath.

  With a grunt, he gently pulled me up, and I winced at the pain in my side. I leaned against his weight as the scenery spun. I could make out the soft pink neon glow of the club. I’d never been happier to see the place.

  “Who did this to you?” he said, sounding like a slow-motion replay. He grabbed a hold of my cheeks with his thick fingers, making my lips purse a little. “Tell me what happened.”

  “C-Cowboy,” I sputtered.

  Sal gave me a crooked look. “We better get you to the hospital, kid.”

  I nodded, my head pounding, and fell into his arms, closing my eyes and giving into the blackness that blanketed me.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  I lay in the hospital bed, listening to the beeps of the heart monitor. Outside the room, I heard the low chatter of the nurses. I tried to settle into my bed, but I couldn’t. I was too restless and uncomfortable. I wanted my own bed, my own pillow. But I hadn’t gotten the results from my CT scan, and the nurse said it could be a few more hours. It was just a concussion, after all. I’d seen my mother take a lot worse.

  Sal stayed for longer than I had expected. I nodded in thanks as he slipped away when the cops showed up to ask me some questions. They had promised to contact me in a few days, but I knew i
t was all bullshit. For all anybody cared, I was just another stripper who got beat up in a parking lot.

  I had no car. No phone. Just a few stitches in my lip and a bruised rib.

  A nurse popped into the room to take my vitals.

  “How’s your pain?” she asked.

  “I’m okay.” The physical pain was nothing compared to what I felt inside. Crushed. Ashamed. The searing ache that infiltrated every cell in my body was far more painful than some cuts and scrapes. My physical injuries would heal without any effort on my part. What was hurting on the inside would be the festering wound I’d have to suffer with all my life. “I really feel like I’d get more rest at home.”

  “Doctor has you on overnight observation.” She studied my face as she pumped the blood pressure cuff around my arm. “Do you want to call anyone?”

  “No,” I said, slumping my head into the thin pillow. I was alive. There was no need to worry Aunt Meg and Uncle Jim for nothing. It was easier to avoid unwanted questions about the circumstances of my attack if they didn’t know it had happened.

  “Blood pressure’s good.” She unwrapped the cuff from my arm. “I’ll be back in to check on you. Use the call button if you need anything.” She smiled and left the room, closing the door behind her.

  * * * *

  I stared at the phone beside my hospital bed, willing myself to make the call. Sarah was unreachable, her phone disconnected. I wasn’t even sure if she knew what had happened last night. With no money for a cab, I could either walk the ten miles, or I could call Uncle Jim and Aunt Meg.

  I reached for the receiver and dialed their number without giving myself another second to consider it. I’d have to lie, of course, which made me feel even shittier.

  “Hello?”

  “Aunt, Meg?” I sounded like I wasn’t expecting her to pick up.

  “Maeve, you sound so far away. Is everything all right?”

  After all those years of looking after me, she’d seemed to develop an intuitive ability to detect when I was in trouble. Maybe it was from all those times I’d hidden from Doug in the closet clutching the phone to my ear and begging to be picked up.

  “I-I’m okay.” My voice trembled. “Well, actually… I twisted the cord of the phone so tight my fingers were white. “I need a ride home.”

  “Ride home from where?”

  “The hospital.”

  “The hospital? What happened? Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. It was just…an accident. I got into a car accident last night.” I touched the tender spot above my eyebrow. I hated this so much it was making my brain throb.

  “Oh my goodness,” she cried. She mumbled away from the phone, and I assumed it was to share the news with Uncle Jim. “Why didn’t you call sooner?” she said into the phone.

  “I didn’t want to worry you. Anyway, I don’t have a car, and the doctor is discharging me from the hospital. Do you think you could give me a ride home?”

  She sighed heavy into the phone. “I feel so terrible, dear.”

  “I’m fine, really, Aunt Meg.”

  “Your uncle and I would be more than happy to pick you up, but I’m afraid we wouldn’t be able to get there for a few more hours. One of the hands has taken the truck to get more feed for the animals.”

  I picked up some of Uncle Jim’s muffled words in the background, something about driving one of the Massey’s if he had to. Aunt Meg shushed him, and I could picture her waving a dishtowel at his face.

  “There is another option, if you don’t want to wait,” Aunt Meg said.

  I was already shaking my head, sure of what she was about to say. But I was proven wrong with her response.

  “I could call your mother for you.”

  A few silent beats passed.

  “Maeve?”

  “Yeah, I’m here,” I said, barely above a whisper.

  “I know she wouldn’t mind.”

  The nurse walked past my room for the third time, giving me this look like I was a customer at a restaurant who’d paid the bill ten minutes ago. Why was I still taking up her table?

  “Okay,” I said. “Can you call her?”

  * * * *

  I waited in the hospital lobby for my mom to make the drive to the hospital. It was amazing how many people I’d seen walk in and out. Old people, young people. Pregnant women, women holding babies, men holding flowers. Everyone seemed to come in pairs or in small groups. I sat alone in the chair closest to the doors, noticing the few stares aimed my way.

  When my mom finally appeared through the automatic doors, I barely recognized her.

  “Hi,” I said, stiffly rising from my seat.

  Her eyes, clear and no longer sporting the faded yellow of aged bruises, widened just enough to remind me of my appearance. She didn’t try to hug me, like I’d seen a bunch of people do during my wait, and I was grateful for it.

  “Thanks for the ride.”

  She tried to smile, but it didn’t quite fully form. “I’m happy to help...for once.”

  “This doesn’t mean I’m—”

  She held up her hands. “I know.”

  An announcement blared over the intercom.

  “You ready to go?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” I said, nodding.

  I followed her to her car, watching her hair bounce off her shoulders. I didn’t notice until then just how much my hair looked like hers—same color, except for her graying roots, and poker straight.

  We sat in the beat-up two-door, and she automatically rolled down the windows.

  “Sorry, air conditioning isn’t working.”

  “It’s fine,” I said, resting my arm on the opened area. After spending the night inhaling the hospital’s recycled air, I needed the wind in my face.

  “You can turn on the radio if you want,” she said, maneuvering the car around the parking garage.

  “I’m fine without it.” I kept my eyes focused on the road. My teeth were clenched, and I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was a habit I’d developed when I was little.

  “I’m not at the shelter anymore,” she said. “I’ve been living in the transitional housing program for the last month now, even have a job.”

  “So, what’s that supposed to mean?” I said.

  She shrugged. “Just thought you ought to know. In case you and your sister wanted to come see me. It’s not anything like Safe Haven. I have my own apartment, and there’s even a room for—”

  “Not going to happen,” I said.

  The tension had gotten so thick I could feel it press against my chest.

  “I know you think you’re doing what’s best for Kasey. But I’m her mother, Maeve.”

  I let out a half-snort, half laugh. “Since when?”

  “I know how you feel,” Mom said, “but it’s different with Kasey. Please don’t keep her from me.”

  I shook my head and bit at my cuticles. “I’ve been around long enough to know that I should have never let her go to that house with you.”

  “I want to take care of her, Maeve.”

  “And how are you going to do that, huh? Do you have any idea what one of her prescriptions costs? Or how many trips to the E.R. I’ve had to make with her in the last year alone?”

  Mom focused on the road. “I know what you’ve done for her. But how about giving me a chance…please.”

  “I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

  She was clueless, just as she’d always been.

  “I could help—”

  “I don’t need your help,” I said.

  We rode in silence for a while, and I wondered how long it would last.

  “So, Aunt Meg told me it was a car accident,” Mom said.

  Not as long as I’d hoped.

  “Yeah, not with my car, though, so there’s some good news.”

  From my peripheral, I could see her stealing glances my way. “Who was driving?”

  “A friend.”

  “They didn’t come with you to the h
ospital?”

  “Nope.”

  I guess she sensed my irritation because the questioning paused. I sunk further into the cloth seat and closed my still swollen eyes.

  “Is that the best you could come up with?” she asked.

  My eyes broke open.

  “What?” I said, finally giving her the attention she wanted.

  “You know, I used to give everyone the I-tripped-and-fell-on-the-doorknob spiel.” She shook her head. “Nobody bought that, either.”

  “There’s nothing to buy. I got into an accident.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  I could tell by her incredulous tone that she wasn’t convinced.

  “I heard about Jacob,” she said.

  “What about him?”

  “That you aren’t speaking to one another.”

  I rested my head in my hand. “So?”

  “So, what happened? I was sure he’d be the one to…”

  “To do what?” I said with an edge to my voice.

  A piece of hair whipped in her face, and she pulled it back. “To change your mind about love.”

  I scoffed. “My mind doesn’t need changing.”

  She ignored my attitude. “I was in love when I was your age.” She readjusted her hands on the steering wheel. “I still think about it every now and then. What my life would have been like if we’d stayed together.”

  “I’m sure it would have been fabulous,” I muttered.

  “Maybe,” she said without flinching. “But it’s not what I chose. His family was from the east side of town. You know, the area with all the nice houses?”

  I knew what she was talking about but didn’t acknowledge it.

  “Anyway, my mother had convinced me that there was no way it was going to work out between a rich boy from the ritzy side of town and a poor girl from the farm.”

  I sat up a little straighter in my seat. She never talked about my grandmother. Even Aunt Meg barely mentioned her.

  “And you know what?” She didn’t wait for me to answer. “I believed her. A few months after we broke up, I met your daddy.”

  “What’d she say about him?” I wanted to keep this conversation one-sided, but the curiosity was eating away at me.

  Mom sneered. “That he was just what I deserved. Of course, he hadn’t shown his true colors yet. But your aunt could see right through him. They never did get along.”