Three Times Torn

by Felisha Antonette

  Uh. I bite my tongue, forgetting there’s still a lot Glen doesn’t know. Every time Scott’s nearly killed her is one of them. “Never mind. Where are your clothes? You can take a shower and change in Nathan’s room. Scott might be a minute.” I face her, awaiting her reply.

  She stares at the amputated arm staining the cream-colored carpet with its continuous blood flow. I swallow, feeling the excess saliva flood my mouth in warning that if I don’t do something about this or keep looking at it, I’ll regurgitate all over the place. Pulling my leg back, I flick it at the arm, kicking it across the room. It rolls lumpy-like across the floor, leaving a bloody trail in its wake. It bumps against the wall, settling on the elbow with the hand cuffed, palm up.

  Glen shivers, wrapping her arms around herself. “The drawer by the window at the top.”

  I try not to laugh when she says top. My hand heats in warning as I start toward the dresser, tiptoeing my way across the blood-smeared floor. I’m warped with fear creeping over my skin. I look around the room, making sure we’re alone. Cracks vine the walls from the battle, the bed’s a split pile of sheets and pulled cushions where nothing can hide beneath, the closet door is smashed in, and clothes are scattered about. No one could be in there. The windows are closed. I narrow my eyes, unable to avert my gaze from the glass, even knowing everything is okay. It reflects the destroyed room and Glen’s and my reflection. It’s pitch black outside, no moon, no lights. A little shaken up, I consider ignoring the unsettling feeling telling me something’s out of place. Glen could always wear something of mine, and I’ll leave it to the boys to check it out later.

  “What’s wrong, Tracey?” Glen asks nervously. Her shaking hands grab the crux of my arm. Looking at her hand before lifting my gaze to hers, I’m frozen by her sudden change in expression. Stricken with terror, Glen’s entire face lifts. Her pretty freckled skin turns a shade of crimson red and her brows space so far apart as they rise I’d swear if they’d stretched any further, her skin would split. My stomach drops as I whirl around, seeking what’s caused her worry.

  The window shatters, spraying glass over the room. A tall, shirtless man a darker shade of the reddish color Burdeneds turn drops into the room. Night blue eyes, outlined in a stingy yellow take us in, in the most studious way. Whatever he’s thinking or studying, it’s obvious he isn’t sure of something.

  An earsplitting scream bleeds through the air, ringing my ears. Glen, yelling at the top of her lungs.

  The intruder’s eyes gloss over, and his thick nostrils flare as he sucks in a deep breath of our air. His lids, dressed with long dark lashes, fall over his creepy eyes.

  I step backward to Glen, silently begging her with a touch to stop screaming. Nathan, you need to get here. Right now, I call him.

  The man lifts his thumb to his mouth and swipes it over his lips. Without a second thought, he saunters from the window with calculated steps, training himself to be captured by our gaze as he makes his way in our direction. Tall and scary as hell, he’s everything a model agency would look for in a man had he not just barged his way into our home. French braids restrain the hair on his head, and their ends drape his shoulders, hanging over his swollen chest. Smiling at either, Glen or me, his pearly, white sharpened teeth are almost blinding in the dim light of the room. Even the dermal piercings stuck in his high cheekbones glistens.

  “Hello, Glen,” he serenades, slowly continuing toward us.

  “How do you know my name?” she asks even after my warning her not to speak.

  I shoot her a look that begs her to shut up, but I go ignored.

  The stranger smiles. “I came for you, feisty.” He points. “But I need you.” He shifts his pointed finger to Glen.

  My hand flares and I swear if he takes another step, he will get blasted back through that window.

  He continues forward, and I send him one of the biggest blasts my body possesses. Soaring over the shredded cushions and smashed lights, he smacks into the wall, sending another crack slithering up to the ceiling. He lands on one knee and his hands. He rises with ease. Cracking his neck, he fixes me with the most bloodcurdling gaze, snarling like a dog, threateningly bearing his teeth. We lock eyes, and his intimidating glower scares me stagnant.

  I try to move, but my feet won’t budge. A million thoughts race through my head, the loudest one wondering why the hell Nathan is taking so long. But I’ve grown to learn Nathan, his so obvious, let me see if she can really take care of herself. I talk a good game, and I know I can back it up, but sometimes, with guys like this who don’t stop and just keep getting back up, I get nervous. Can I take him down?

  The intruder rolls his shoulders, and the soft sound of his back cracking is loud in my ears. Never taking his eyes off me, a promise glimmers in them. A promise that he’s going to pay me back for what I did.

  Oh . . . shit . . .

  Charging across the room, he comes for us, and I’m ready for his attack. Three feet from me, he abruptly stops, almost as if he froze in place.

  I feel Nathan come up behind me.

  Mr. Cheekbone Studs looks over my head, his face a mask of complete shock. Shifting, he adjusts to his human form, not nearly as intimidating as his Burdened frame. Dark, radiant brown skin’s pulled taut over his wrestler-like body. The threat of torture has left his soft gray eyes. They now reflect a great deal of confusion as he looks us over. “Nate?” he mutters, wide eyes quickly sobering. “Man, I had no idea. I swear.”

  Nathan steps around me, and I step to the side as he walks in front of me. “This is my house,” Nathan tells him. His disposition’s calm, observing even.

  The surprised intruder continues to steal looks at Glen. “I wasn’t aware of that either.” He steps to the side, crossing his arms.

  Nathan matches him, shaking his head. “I don’t believe you, Jaworski.”

  Jaworski flicks his gaze to Glen and stares at her for a moment.

  Nathan looks between them and says, “That’s Scott.”

  Jaworski’s eyes widen, but his shock doesn’t last long. “I didn’t know that either.”

  “Do you care?”

  “Not now.”

  “Neither do I,” Nathan says with a shrug.

  Jaworski nods toward me. “And I suppose the one I came here for is yours?”

  Nathan gives him a short nod.

  Pinching his chin, Jaworski nods, understanding. “I’m not going down easy, Nate,” he says, stretching out his neck.

  “I never asked you to.”

  Their calmness irritates me. They know they hate each other, at least we know Nathan’s not going to let him just walk away, and Jaworski already said he’s ready for the fight. But, they talk like they’re pals. Frequently, Jaworski’s eyes flicker over at Glen, and she moves closer and closer to me. If she gets any closer, she’ll be inside of me.

  Prying his stone gray eyes away from Glen, Jaworski asks, “What are you waiting for?”

  “Did you touch her?” Nathan points his elbow toward me.

  Jaworski crosses his arms, tipping his chin. “No. I only came for her.”

  “But you want her?” Nathan points to Glen, and she shies away.

  The corner of Jaworski’s mouth twitches, resisting his smile. “I do,” he drawls, interest making the words sing.

  “Then this isn’t for me to handle. Don’t get me wrong. I’m pissed you came for what’s mine. But you want Scott’s for yourself.” He shrugs. “So, we’re waiting on him.”

  “I’ve explained I didn’t know she was Scott’s,” Jaworski defends.

  “You can’t smell him on her?”

  “I can,” he answers honestly. “But I didn’t come here to want her. It’s something about her.” He looks her over again and then steps forward.

  “You’re pushing it,” Nathan warns, causing Jaworski to retract his step. He lightens the mood with a query. “While we wait, why don’t you tell me who sent you here?”

  “I can’t do that. But I’ll tell you
the person who sent me is expecting me to come back with her. Knowing she’s yours, however, I have no intentions to do so.”

  “What are your intentions?” Scott asks, kissing Glen’s cheek on his passing us to Jaworski and Nathan.

  “Scott, I—”

  “No small talk,” Scott cuts him off.

  Jaworski rubs his chin with is palm, revealing his aggravation. I also hate this take your time tactic. Just do what you’re going to do and move on to the next one.

  Patience, Sparks. It mostly happens like this when we don’t know what we’re going to do, Nathan relays without looking at me. He’s standing with his back to me, shoulders straight as a line; his shirt stretched across them. This dark gray shirt compliments him well, with its short sleeves exposing taut forearms protruding with muscle. My gaze dances up his neck, taking notice of his hair just long enough to get my fingers tangled in. I want to touch it. His neck’s tight and hard, ready for me to kiss it, calling me to cross this floor and place my lips on its tanned skin. I’ve never kissed back there before. Still, so many parts of his body I haven’t traveled. My gosh, I need him in the worst, well, the best way possible.

  Mental note—explore Nathan’s body.

  Nathan cranes his neck, glance passing his shoulder as he looks at me with wide eyes and knit brows.

  Embarrassed, I stifle my giggle, matching his flirtatious smirk.

  He turns back, shaking his head. You are bad, Sparky.

  Sorry, I’m focusing now.

  I missed whatever Scott and Jaworski decided on. They’re going to the let out bathroom, which, with Top in there, seems like it’s getting crowded.

  Scott grabs Glen’s clothes and the entire time, Jaworski stares at her without care or concern for his actions. I guess he actually doesn’t care. He’s heard Glen’s voice and his demeanor has changed. It’s clear he wants to sneak away and maybe escape through the window from which he arrived, but he ignores this want. Maybe willing to risk it all to have a chance at Glen.

  “Can I talk to her?” he asks in a serious tone.

  What great balls you have, Jaworski. Like that’ll ever happen.

  Scott moves Glen into the hall where she can’t be gaze raped by Mr. Cheekbone Studs.

  I stand in the doorway, watching Nathan, but this time attentive to my surroundings.

  “Glen,” Scott comforts. “I’m sorry you had to see that stuff today, but you have to control yourself and stay quiet when family isn’t around, or when someone comes around you don’t know. It’s essential to my keeping you safe. Even the slightest scream or gasp will attract them to you, distracting them from whatever other plan they originally had. Okay?”

  “I hear you,” she replies with a shaky voice.

  “I’m sorry again, but I need to go handle this.” They kiss. “Stay with Tracey. I’ll be right back to find us another room to sleep in.”

  Yeah, because I’m not having a slumber party tonight. Nathan, Scott, Glen, and Tracey all piled up in Nathan’s room. . . No. Nathan’s been gone too long to share our space and his time.

  Nathan peeks at me, and I smile at him, thinking, It’s your fault I’m like this.

  You’re going to get in trouble.

  Scott taps my arm, saying, “Let’s go, Tracey.”

  I’m okay with that. I’ll see you in a minute, I say to Nathan, leaving the room. I wrap an arm around Glen’s waist and pull her to Nathan’s room. I hope we have no more surprise visitors tonight. Reminded of tomorrow’s dinner, it draws on a stressful tired.

  This is going to be a fun weekend.

  I TURN INTO A FULLY clothed Nathan, the cotton of his shirt brushing my cheek instead of bare skin. Seeking a hand or foot, my toes slide down the pant leg of his sweats, and I find his feet.

  Shit, Sparks! Your feet are freezing.

  Sliding my feet beneath his, they warm, and I try to relax. Sorry. I can’t sleep. Scott’s snoring is driving me crazy.

  That’s your excuse for putting your freezing toes on me?

  I laugh. Your house is cold.

  He pulls my leg up and takes my foot in his hand. He rubs the cold away. “Better?”

  “Getting there. Thanks.”

  “Give me the other one.”

  I lift it to his reach and try to drown out Scott’s snores with thoughts. I told Mom that I’d be staying out tonight, but I wish I‘d dragged Nathan back to my house. Scott snores louder than a lion’s roar. How can Glen take that?

  “I have no idea. We should’ve gone to your house and let them have the room.”

  “What time is it? Maybe we still can.”

  Nathan leans over, looking at the nightstand. “One forty.” A bear’s growl cuts through the room. At least it sounds like it.

  “Alright. We’re leaving,” I say, climbing out of bed.

  “Fine by me,” Nathan follows.

  I throw on my shoes and ignore my idea to change clothes considering I’m dressed for a run. Nathan stuffs his feet in his sneakers, and we head out, pulling the door closed behind us.

  Grabbing my front door’s knob in my hand, I twist and twist. “What the hell?” I whisper, pushing the door and pulling the knob.

  “Stop before you wake your Mom!” Nathan says, snatching my hand from the doorknob. He lifts his free hand, revealing a clean, golden key reflecting the light of the moon on its ridged edges. “It’s just locked.”

  “Stupid door’s never locked. I forgot,” I say a bit embarrassed since I’m the one who talked Mom into locking it.

  We enter my home, and I find serenity in it being quiet and peaceful. Mom’s safe and sound, sleeping peaceably. I kiss her cheek and creep out of her room, quietly pulling the door closed.

  My day started at five thirty this morning, and with the festive events that took me from Nathan withdrawal, a troll called Top, Jaworski with the composure of the pope, and Scott’s snoring . . . I feel as if I just lived a week.

  I lean against my dresser trying to control my hearing. Everything’s incredibly loud; Nathan’s shoes flopping on the floor as he kicks them off, the refrigerator’s motor running, my mom’s soft snoring, and I know it’s my imagination, but I’d swear I can hear Scott too.

  Nathan strips off his shirt and pulls me to the bed. “Ready for sleep?” he whispers in my ear. I climb in next to him, covering my ears with my hands. Turning into his chest, I fill my nose with his scent that turns my bones to liquid and relaxes every muscle. “I am.” This night, I find sleep quicker than I ever have.

  “Tracey.” I’m shaken. “Tracey, this is not appropriate,” Mom’s voice cuts into a serene dream.

  I snuggle closer to Nathan, trying to eliminate the discomforts interrupting my slumber.

  “Even worse, Tracey Nicole Warren.”

  Wait. The feeling of my room coated in Mom’s presence jolts me up. “Mom!” I croak. Nathan moves behind me, and I rush to spit out the words. “I can totally explain this.”

  She straightens from being bent over my bed and awaits this grand explanation I’ve yet to think up.

  “And no, it’s not what you think,” I add. Usually when people say that it’s exactly what they may be thinking, but not this time. She’s probably thinking along the lines of sex, and that did not happen.

  Nathan sits up, and I wish he hadn’t. Mom’s eyes buck at him―him half-naked, and his being in my bed. “Hello, Karen,” he shyly mutters.

  “Hello, Nathan.” She looks him over; eyebrows pulled so tightly together they redden.

  “He’s been working out since he was like, twelve,” I mumbled in an attempt to lessen her befuddlement from his supposed to be twenty-year-old physique.

  Her narrowed gray eyes shift to me. “How about you explain what’s going on here.” She lifts her index finger, once cuffed around the muscle of her crossed arms, to point between Nathan and me.

  Honesty’s the key, here. Mom and I have a great, candid relationship. She tells me I can tell her anything, and that I can be truthful. Although,
I don’t expect her to be cool about walking into her daughter’s room seeing me in bed with my boyfriend. No mom would ever be cool with that.

  “Okay, see, Nathan’s been gone for the past few days, and I missed him. I asked him if he could come over. He did, reluctantly, knowing he didn’t have your approval.” Have to make it sound good. “But, it was late, and I hadn’t seen him, and I needed him around me. I’d hoped we’d be up before you woke up and honestly, I didn’t know the door was unlocked. I’m more so sorry I got caught, but we meant no disrespect.” She looks back at Nathan’s bare chest. “He sleeps without a shirt. But”—I pull back the covers—“We’re majority fully clothed.”

  She looks at me head on, analyzing my story with a squinted right eye and a risen left eyebrow. Nude lips press into a thin line as she folds her arms in front of her chest. “Okay,” she finally says with a nod. “You two come down for breakfast.” She leaves, stopping at the door. “And, Nathan. Put on a shirt.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He stands from the bed and crosses my room to the chaise. Snatching up his shirt, he throws it over his head, hiding his gloriousness under its black cotton fabric.

  “Thank you for telling the truth, Tracey.” Mom pulls back my attention, giving me a stern warning look that says, this better not happen again.

  I nod.

  She leaves, sure to push the door all the way open on her exit.

  I throw myself back against the bed. “That wasn’t cool.”

  Nathan chuckles, sitting beside me. “It was bound to happen. I’m surprised it took this long.” His voice lowers. “Good thing you weren’t on any freaky stuff last night or it would’ve been worse.”

  I punch his arm without as much force as I’ve used before. “Let’s go downstairs,” I say, pulling him from my room.

  “Good morning,” Mom greets, placing glasses of OJ on the prepared table.

  “Good morning,” we reply, taking our usual seats beside each other—across from her.

  “You were gone, Nathan?” I can always count on Mom to keep things cordial. Even after what just happened.