Detour: A Creekwood Novel (Creekwood Series Book 1)

by A. Marie

  Coty’s head snaps to mine, his face full of worry. “Are you okay?”

  The wind from the ride now gone, the stagnant hot air creeps back in. “I’m fine. You?”

  He nods, pulling me to him. “I’m good.”

  His pounding heart slows as he tucks me against his chest and I wish I could say the same for mine.

  “Bro, you were insane. Dude fucking flew!”

  Beckett’s voice booms through the deserted lot as he talks to Marc who’s inspecting his cracked helmet. My eyes search everyone for injuries. Coty’s knuckles, swollen and covered in dried blood, are worse off than the last time I saw him use them. Marc’s arms have some cuts that are still wet and in need of care. Beckett has a welt across his cheek that makes him wince anytime his expressive face shifts.

  Marc’s gaze rises, touching on mine before making its way to his boy. “He had it comin’.”

  “How do you know?” I throw out. He wasn’t even there. He couldn’t possibly know who Steve was or what he was saying.

  Marc drops his banged-up hand, helmet gripped between scuffed fingers and looks me in the eye. “He was fucking with you, right?”

  I nod once.

  He shrugs lightly. “Then that’s good enough for me.”

  I had the entire ride to Creekwood to think about what went down tonight. What’s been going on since I moved here. I’ve spent so much time trying to avoid drama, I failed to notice it’d been clinging to me like my mother’s nasty perfume. Their bruised faces and bloody knuckles, their schedules constantly being rearranged to accommodate mine, their parties now interrupted, their friends getting banned—that’s because of me. I shouldn’t have been out there, acting the part of something I’m not. I shouldn’t be here at all. They deserve better. He deserves better.

  I pull out of Coty’s embrace.

  “Who was that guy anyway?”

  Beckett explains what happened before I can speak. While he fills them in, I notice drops of blood on my jeans and wince. I was already planning to pull out my trusty cleaning toothbrush and bleach for my shoes, I might as well soak my pants while I’m at it. Sleep won’t come easy tonight. Sleep won’t come easy for a while.

  “I didn’t know who he was before Angie came up, I swear. He didn’t say anything about knowing her until she walked over. I never would’ve let him near her if he did.”

  Marc shoves him, teasing, “Nice job, asshole.”

  Beckett pushes him back playfully. How can they be joking right now?

  We head for the stairs, our group battered but not broken. Yet.

  At the top, the boys file in their door but I turn for mine, steeling my spine for what’s to come. They make a great team, their unity undeniable, but I fly solo. And at the end of the day, I’ll be taking on my problems the same way I always have—alone. Tomorrow I’ll have to face Joe and Steve. The next day Rianne. The day after that something else, someone else. No matter when, or how, my problems appear next, it won’t be at the boys’ doorstep again. I’ll make sure of it.

  They left their door open—so arrogant, so foolish—so I stand here, watching them as they move about, laughing, drinking, taking stock of their wounds.

  One loose and light, holding the world at arm’s length for the day he decides to hug it close like the mother he desperately misses.

  One severe and deep, locking others out until he declares them worthy—ironically mimicking the impossible expectations his own father sets for him.

  One balancing everything in his fingertips, waiting for the perfect moment to make his deepest desires a reality despite the shortcomings from his parents’ shallow pretense. Coty thinks a woman can make that happen. He may even think I’ll make that happen. He’s wrong. I can only offer a short detour along the journey. I am not the destination, nor will I be just because he appreciates the temporary view.

  The three of them work in perfect unison when they could fight and grate at every turn. Since I arrived, obstacle after obstacle has been thrown in their way making for an uneasy ride. I have my own path to navigate much less worry about how I can make theirs smoother. Having a neighbor to pass the time with is one thing, having to unload and store her oversized baggage is another. At some point something’s got to give and fortunately for them, I know what it is.

  A weight presses in on my chest as I step over my threshold. So close, and yet so far. Always.

  “You’re not coming in? Neighbor girl?”

  Guilt gnaws in my heavy chest, making it difficult to speak as I stare at the floor.

  I hear their door close softly and Coty’s voice floats across the hall. “Keep your door unlocked. I’ll be over later.”

  One. Just one lie and it’ll be done. I don’t have to hurt anyone—other than myself—to save them from future pain.

  “I’m tired.” It clogs my throat sooner than I expected and the words come out garbled.

  “I’ll be there.”

  The promise lingers long after I close the door with me on the opposite side.

  I twist the lock with finality and strip. Climbing into bed, I stare at the ceiling, wondering how the hell I’m going to pull this Band-Aid off as cleanly as possible. They will all have a say but my voice is the only one that needs to matter. I’ll just have to make it stronger than theirs, even when it doesn’t feel like I can.

  Hours of tossing and turning later, Coty’s knock finally comes but I don’t answer it. I don’t answer the text or call that follows either. When the pounding turns frantic, I know.

  He knows.

  “Angela, open the door.”

  More knocks.

  “Open up, babe. I know you’re awake.”

  A thump that sounds like a head propped against the door chips at my carefully constructed resolve, cracking my heart in two. I fist my hands at my sides, wishing the pieces would just fall already.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  Minutes tick by, then a choked whisper that steals my own breath. “Don’t do this to me. Please.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping he’ll be gone when I open them.

  The door across the hall slams shut making me jump. I let out a long breath, with it I release the hope that had crept in while my back was turned. The hope that I could be what he wanted, what they needed. Maybe I am more like my mom than I thought. I’m just as toxic to everyone that gets close as she is. A slow-acting poison that lulls you into false security until it’s too late, killing everything good in its vicinity. But, no. Not this time. I refuse to cause the same damage she has. Always taking, taking, taking for herself. I’m giving them the best outcome whether they know it or not. The least hazardous track possible—the one without me on it.

  CHAPTER 33

  Angela

  Days. It’s been days since I worked. Joe doesn’t even have the balls to call me himself to deliver the bad news either. He’s been making the hourly associates do his dirty work which makes it that much worse, knowing he’s feeding them bullshit they’re forced to regurgitate over the phone to me. My questions go unanswered just like the constant knocks at my door. By the end of the week the punishment is loud and clear—Joe’s icing me out.

  The irony that I’m doing the same to the boys is not lost on me, yet my hands are tied in both situations.

  Coty knocks every day before leaving for work and again when he returns. I wait until he’s gone to head out myself then make sure I arrive back before he does so there’s no chance of collision. Texts and calls have been ignored as well. Beckett’s joined in the pursuit as well but I dodge him, too. I almost had a run-in with Marc earlier in the week when I was folding laundry but I ducked down to hide like the coward they think I am.

  The only thing saving me from losing it entirely is my newfound sanctuary in the local library. The extra free time has been filled with days of job hunting and nights of reading, both accessible at no cost thankfully.

  My night class starting this week helped, too. Helped to pass the time and to k
eep my mind occupied, but useless in getting me money. I’ve only had a couple more interviews but no call-backs yet.

  Drew, oblivious to my neighborly dilemma, invited me out to a movie tonight which I happily accepted.

  The only upside in all this mayhem is I haven’t heard from my mother. I’m cautiously grateful for her silence after her last nasty call but, always waiting for the other shoe to drop, I wouldn’t be surprised if she chose to pop back up at the most inconvenient of times. Come to think of it, there is no such thing as a convenient time to deal with Rianne. Whatever the boys may have said to her might’ve actually worked in keeping her away. Yet another problem of mine they were forced to handle.

  Exhaling, I pull into the library to dive right back in where I left off yesterday. Four hours until Coty leaves work gives me three and a half to find a new job. I just hope it’s enough. Something needs to change before I end up back where I started—broke, broken, and under Rianne’s cruel thumb.

  I pick up my pace through the automatic doors.

  * * *

  Husky notes bleed out of Drew’s speakers as he drives me home from his friend’s house. Bebe Rexha’s voice gets me every time and “I’m A Mess” is no exception. He pretends not to like it but I see his head bobbing out of the corner of my eye and I crack a small smile.

  I lean my head back, inhaling Drew’s fruity scent. The smell saturates the confined space along with memories of our nostalgic drives together. My need for these may have subsided but the comfort they provide hasn’t, and even though I’m not supposed to, I allow myself a few seconds to absorb the relief Drew’s presence always offers.

  The movie, an action one, was the ultimate diversion. No sappy love story. No deep family divide. Just mindless chatter between illogical carnage. Simply perfect.

  Needing to stop off at a friend’s afterward helped, too. The alcohol his friend supplied in the short time we were there was just what I needed to clear the remaining thoughts swirling in my head. The expensive vodka was much smoother going down and now I’m just hoping the same proves true if it happens to come back up, too.

  Tipsy from the shots, I sway in the front seat singing off-key as Creekwood comes into view. I fight to keep the hazy effects present through the gloom quickly resurfacing. Goodbye blurry edges, hello blunt reality. It was fun while it lasted. Kind of. Drew, being the steadfast designated driver, proved to be a terrible drinking buddy after all. It must be nice to have a stable career you have a responsibility to.

  Parked, he looks over to me with questioning eyes. Questioning and suspicious. He hasn’t pushed the topic that I’ve deemed off limits but he didn’t have to. I can feel the sadness seeping out of my pores and I know he can as well.

  “Need me to walk you up?”

  I groan.

  That voice. The pity it holds. The worry it represents.

  I thank Drew before folding myself out of his low car.

  “Don’t be home. Don’t be home. Don’t be home,” I chant with each step up the stairs.

  Being on the sloppier side of my night, I forgot to do a vehicle check on the way in. I never forget.

  Coty’s head snaps up from where it was resting on the door—my door to be exact—as I reach the top. So much for getting inside undetected.

  His eyes travel up my body starting at my naked toes in my slides while I stand here motionless. Busy debating whether I can chase down Drew in my current state, I miss Coty getting to his feet.

  “Hey.”

  The raw tenderness in his voice catches me off guard for the second time tonight.

  I wave a hand halfheartedly and drop my gaze to his feet, landing on a brand-new doormat where Coty’s perfect ass was previously parked.

  “I, uh, got you one finally. I hope you like it.”

  The overly sweet act feels out of place compared to the amount of torture I’ve endured all week and irritation sours the surprise.

  Pushing past, I kick it aside with my foot. “You shouldn’t have done that. I won’t be here much longer,” I spit with as much venom as I feel churning in my veins.

  Coty blocks my hands with his body but I keep my eyes locked on his rapidly rising chest, refusing to look up.

  “Don’t say that. Please don’t say that. Whatever happened, I’ll fix it, Angela. Please. Just…don’t leave.” At my silence he continues, “Or I’ll leave. Anything. Whatever you want.” His voice lowers as does his head.

  What I want? I want my life to make sense. I want a life that I actually have a say over. One that happiness resides without a constant cloud of misery hovering in the distance, waiting for the perfect time to strike and ruin what I’ve worked my ass off for. I want a fucking chance. A chance to be who I want and not what others keep telling me I am. A chance at being the woman my mother never could be. One that loves freely without consequences coming to those who dare to love her back.

  I want the boys next door to have a fraction of what they deserve without having to fight off my relentless demons in the process. I want them to know their parents are morons for missing out on some of the best humans I’ve ever met. I want to not only be a part of their family but to earn a spot there all on my own without their constant help. I want to stand as strong with them as I can without.

  But that’s not in the cards for me. It never was. They’ve been stacked against me from day one and I can’t place that burden on them, too. I won’t.

  Reluctantly meeting Coty’s sad eyes, I whisper, “please move,” then sigh when it comes out broken just like my heart.

  Holding my stare for a moment longer, I watch as a multitude of emotions pass through his eyes leaving me dizzy. Then huffing through his nose, he flies to his side of the hall, flinging the door open and closed without looking back. I don’t know what hurts worse, that I pushed him away or that he’s letting me. I flinch from the sound echoing off the walls and drop my head. Eyeing the pristine welcome mat, I nudge it further away using my toe. This tumultuous cycle I call life isn’t accepting anymore visitors.

  CHAPTER 34

  Coty

  Fuck.

  Fuck this.

  Fuck her.

  Okay, maybe not Angela, but fuck whatever stupid excuse she’s come up with to ghost me. Again.

  Everything was fucking perfect—until it wasn’t. Just like that, she ripped the carpet out from under me, taking my heart along with it.

  I’ve replayed every minute from that night last weekend wondering where it all went wrong. It was like a switch had been flipped from the parking lot to the top of the stairs. The incredibly hot, sexy water being turned to inhospitable, freezing liquid in an instant. I’ve grilled the guys time and time again to see if they said something to warrant her swift change but they seem just as clueless as I am. Her cutting off any contact with them as well should make me feel better, that it’s not just me, however it only gives a finality to everything somehow, causing the panic to grow more urgent with each passing day.

  After seeing that fuckwad Steve crowding Angela, then hearing what her boss has been putting her through, I retreated into my own head. The guys and I have been working on a new project, one that will make us our own bosses much like Angela’s striving for with her new education plan. The new shop we’re currently planning was supposed to be ours—mine, Beck’s, and Marc’s. But lately I’ve been rethinking the entire plan, especially after learning more about Angela’s hostile work environment. I’d been planning to redraw the blueprints currently covering my desk with an added bay for a car wash. A car wash Angela would be running. A place for her to flourish without some sleazebag putting his hands all over her. Unless that sleazebag is me, of course. And it’s consensual.

  The layout was so clear in my mind once I had the idea that I had to get it down on paper before it left me. I wanted to be there for Angela after Steve’s disrespectful mouth ruined the night but I thought I had time to sketch up something real quick. I was wrong.

  “Fuck!”

  I s
natch my helmet off the coffee table sitting next to Angela’s abandoned one. Beck attached these active cameras to all our helmets with the intent to capture our rides from now on. I’m not in the fucking mood for a play-by-play of the wreckage I’m wading through but don’t have the headspace for taking the damn thing off, so I leave it and storm back into the hallway.

  Automatically I notice the discarded mat and stomp over to shove it back in place. The hell she’s moving. The rental agreement she signed ensures I’ve got at least a few more months. Hopefully. I’ll check with Marc to see if he can find out the exact date her contract ends. That’ll be my deadline to fix things with Angela. If it doesn’t work, then like I promised her, I’ll move. She’s been through enough without adding getting chased out of her apartment by the dumbasses next door to the list.

  Satisfied with the rug, I look up to Angela’s door, surprised there’s not a permanent imprint of my knuckles in the metal. My hand twitches at my side. Shaking my head, I move for the stairs. I already begged at her fucking feet tonight and look where that got me.

  I mount my bike and shoot off into the veil of night. The ruthless fist that has my heart in its vise-like grip starts to loosen as I lay on the gas, giving it my all. I haven’t been able to fully breathe all week, waiting for the sweet relief only Angela brings. The smallest amount of air filters in my aching lungs and I greedily gasp for more as I fly down the quiet roads. I’m panting as I round my first corner, making for a sloppy turn and I wobble from my mistake.

  Fuck, that was close.

  I keep to straight roads after that, fighting to even out the spurts of oxygen being sucked in through my cracked lips. Staying up late every night to perfect the design for the new shop has wreaked havoc on my body and it’s showing. The guys barely even let me come into work. Not wanting to sit at home with the reminder of what I’ve lost in plain sight, I’ve begun driving around for hours on end, searching for the best spot for our new venture. Finally finding one this afternoon, I dragged the guys out to see it for themselves before revealing the newly finished draft. The proposal was a hard sell, like I knew it would be, so I pulled out my secret weapon—Joaquin. After the initial shock that I’d even consider going into business with Marc’s overbearing dad, they saw the potential the collaboration offered. New businesses start and fail daily. We knew this going in, but searched for the exact thing to set us apart from the rest. The thing that would keep us up and running for years to come. And not just surviving but thriving.