Three Times Torn

by Felisha Antonette

  “She is. She comes around often with her brothers. It’d be her, Carteal, Scott, and me always together. She has no filter and comes off as a bitch to people who don’t know her well enough. As you’ve noticed, whatever comes to her mind is what comes out of her mouth with no regard to other’s feelings.”

  “Yeah, I noticed that.”

  “She stays fifteen minutes from here. When my aunt isn’t at our house, she’s over there. They’re parents were victims of a Burdened case.”

  “They’re gone?”

  “Yes. But that was a long time ago. They’ve grown past it.”

  I can only imagine. “The house is starting to fill up, huh?” I ask, needing to change the subject.

  “Yeah, it gets like this around this time of the year. Every room fills and the majority of the time I stay away. Just coming around during the day because at night it can get a little loud with people arguing or having too much of a good time.”

  “Sounds fun. . .” I mutter sarcastically.

  “Hey.” Lana comes up behind us.

  “Hey. Where’s Olar?” I ask.

  “He’s talking to Carmen. . .?” she trails inquisitively. “She’s a cousin. Their talk started to get emotional, and she told me she needed to have a moment with her cousin without me being there. I felt Olar wanting the time to talk to her, so I let them.”

  “Feel free to join us. We’re just chatting.”

  Lana’s cool. She seems pretty guarded, but I assume it’s because we’re new to her.

  THE SUN’S NOT FAR from setting when we leave the park. Carmen sits in the back with Olar and Lana, singing along to every song that plays on the radio. I rest against the seat ready to take a nice four-hour nap. My mind raises thoughts about things we no longer need to worry about and then the new worries that’s manifested in our lives. Needing a much-needed distraction, I watch Nathan drive. It’s funny how something so innocent and unworthy of an audience can avert my thoughts. He’s calm, but I can tell something’s heavy on his mind by the slight twitch of his right brow. He’s like a book starting at the ending. I’m left with this gigantic puzzle of who’s, what’s, and why’s and no way to find out the answers. If he’d only let me in his head, he wouldn’t be such an enigma. The side of his mouth twitches upward.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Nothing. You’re just very observant,” he utters, cracking a small smile.

  “I have to be with you since you want to keep all your thoughts to yourself.”

  His hazel eyes flick to me then back to the road. “We’ll talk about that later.”

  Facing the window, I watch the trees and buildings fly by, mixing the colors of the scenery. I get it; we’re always around someone, or something’s going on, which keeps us from being ourselves. Since we started dating, besides discussions explaining to me what’s going on, sweet I love you talks, and battling everyone in the world, we haven’t had the time to talk and deeply get to know each other really. Our entire relationship has been about someone else. And we’ve been learning one another through each other, not from each other. If communication is key to opening any relationship, our doors are actually still locked.

  We park in the driveway of a house about the size of mine. Carmen exclaims, “Thank you so much, Nate. Come introduce Tracey to my brothers.”

  “You want to?” Nathan asks with bright eyes and an excited smile. I can feel his eagerness to see them.

  There aren’t too many people Nathan’s excited to see, or who he wants me to meet, so I’m game. “Yeah,” I say, preparing to open the door.

  A strong hand grabs my arm. “Don’t do that,” he states, getting out.

  What is up with you and me not opening my door? I ask as he rounds the car.

  Opening my door, he assists me out. “I like to be a gentleman.” He winks.

  “Uh huh.” Two tall guys exit the house and stand by Carmen. By their build and strong posture, they match others I’ve seen in Nathan’s family. They distinguish in height, they both wear low cuts, and they have the same strong facial structures. They’re handsome.

  “Are they handsome, Sparks?”

  I roll my eyes. “Really? I’m not admiring them. Don’t worry, babe. They don’t look nearly as good as you.”

  “I wasn’t worried about it. Just following up on what you said earlier. You know, when you called me an ass.”

  Oh, he’s upset about that. “Aww, the big bad Nathan is sensitive,” I tease.

  “Nope. Never,” he quips lightheartedly.

  “I doubt it,” I mumble as we get closer. The guys take me in, and I grow uncomfortable. I wrap my arm around Nathan’s, shifting my gaze away from them. He moves his arm from mine and wraps it around my shoulder. It’s the presence of the men that makes me uncomfortable, I know. Once I meet them, I’ll be okay.

  “What’s up Cart, Court,” Nathan greets. “I hear you’re coming to wreck my spot.” The three of them bump fists.

  “Yep!” the taller one exclaims. “I’ll be there to destroy everything you have.”

  “Please don’t do that.” Our house has been through enough. I hear what sounds like a thought in my head, but Nathan’s not directing it to me. “This is my Sparks. Sparks, this is Courtney.” He points to the taller one. “And that’s Carteal,” he introduces, pointing to the other.

  “Her real name’s Tracey,” Carmen offers, pursing her lips at Nathan.

  “Hey, Tracey,” they sing.

  Nathan meets my eyes and nods. Turning back to the brothers, I smile, saying, “Hi. Carmen insisted we become acquainted.”

  “She must like you,” Carteal starts. “She usually doesn’t like to introduce us to anyone.” He takes a pause. “Me, maybe. Courtney, not so much.” I join their laugh.

  “Don’t act like I’m the worst one.” Courtney smacks Carteal’s back. “Tracey, I’m the best out of the two of them.”

  “Yeah right. Really? Never,” the three say in chorus. He throws his hands up, exclaiming, “What!”

  “Alright, we’ll see you all later.” Nathan lightly pinches my arm, grabbing my attention to head to the car.

  At a good enough distance, I ask, “Why do I still need your permission before I speak to other men? I’ll feel fine, then when they look at me, I get totally uncomfortable.”

  “That’s you, not trusting. You’re strong, Sparks. And do a pretty damn good job of taking care of yourself. If you believe in yourself and know no harm can come against you, you can conquer the world, baby. Soon as you accept that, you won’t need my permission to talk to people; you’ll feel confident in yourself. And as soon as you get used to the bond, it’ll make a lot of things a lot easier for you. I hate to say it. But—”

  I throw my hand up, cutting him off. “I know, Nate. You told me so.”

  He presses his lips in a thin line, looking down at me from the corner of his eye. “And you say you can’t read my mind.”

  Bumping him with my hip, I chaff, “Hush.”

  Olar and Lana ride with us to Glen’s house.

  I swallow hard. An oversized lump’s lodged itself in my throat. I stand in Glen’s driveway, and breathing’s never been more of a challenge. I try to ease the sorrow from the words I’m about to deliver to my best friend’s mom. Mrs. Richards isn’t the nicest person. She never gave a shit about Glen or what she did, so I have no idea how she’s going to take the news.

  Nathan and I pass Mrs. Richards’ car, which confirms she’s here and makes this moment all too real. I take Nathan’s hand as he knocks. Every inch of my body is pulsating, shaking my hands and my legs. He laces our fingers, trying to bring me down. “Your heart is going insane, Sparks. Calm down.”

  The lock turns, and the latch clicks. The lump in my throat grows, and a bubble builds worsening the vibration of my thrashing heart. Mrs. Richards stands here, in her doorway, bloodshot eyes shifting from me to Nathan and back. The dark circles and aging wrinkles piled in the outer corners of her eyes displays her tired and that
she may not have gotten a good rest in a while. At forty-two, it’s obvious her life choices have weighed on her. I take her in, and my words run from my tongue, looking at her shoulder length hair matted and tousled around her head.

  I can’t tell her. I can’t. She looks horrible. I can’t make her feel worse.

  She stares at me staring at her, until, “What, Tracey? Glen isn’t here.”

  You want me to tell her? Nathan asks.

  No. I clear my throat, throwing my hand out to catch the closing door. “Wait. I know Glen isn’t here. Mrs. Richards, can I come in to talk to you?”

  “No. What is it you kids want?”

  Ugh. . . She can be such an ass. I take a deep breath, fixing my words. “It’s Glen. . .” I pause, needing to clear my throat to remove the croak. “She was in an accident.” I look away from her, adding, “She didn’t make it.” The door slams in my face, causing me to jump back.

  Mrs. Richards screams and something falls followed by what sounds like her hands slapping the floor. It echoes throughout her home but is shortly drowned out by another wail.

  I know Mrs. Richards well enough to stay away but I won’t let her breakdown alone. Taking the doorknob in my free hand, I let go of Nathan as I enter the half-empty home. As I interpreted, she’s on the floor, head to the carpet, weeping. I crouch down beside her and cautiously place my hand on her back, refraining from offering empty platitudes. Silence is better.

  The second my hand grazes her back she cries harder. The power of a touch is stronger than I’ve grown to believe. And this is further proof of that. It says more than any words I could make. I’ll never know what my touch is doing for her, but I know it doesn’t hurt, and I think she might appreciate it.

  Her heartbeat’s easier to hear than others, it’s almost too loud, sounding over her sobs. I sit beside her on the floor. Her home smells of faint narcotics and booze, turning my stomach. Mrs. Richards has always had a battle with drugs. It was the motive behind Glen never wanting to be at home, why she never had much respect for her. Glen thought her mother didn’t love her. I can still hear her saying if she did, Tracey, she wouldn’t suck that shit down her throat, distracting her from me, more worried about getting high with my sister. I didn’t know enough about Glen’s mom situation to give advice, but I know it affected her and was the reason she was always so rude and bitchy. She was neglected and her, sometimes, wretched attitude was her crying out for attention. Her mom just never cared. Then, along came Scott. . . I can honestly say, sitting in the middle of the floor, in the dark with Mrs. Richards as she cries over her daughter . . . she loved her. Everyone in Glen’s life had a very strange way of showing their love for her. I wish she could’ve seen and heard some things I have from these people. She would’ve been a lot happier.

  Eventually, Mrs. Richards’ sobs calm to even breaths, and she stops shaking. Nathan lifts her sleeping body from the floor and lies her on the couch in her living room. I take off her shoes and throw a blanket over her.

  We close and lock the door behind us, heading back to the car. The sun’s scaled the sky as time’s inching toward six. The air’s warm and as I suspected earlier, there’s still not a cloud in sight.

  Olar and Lana are in the back, all over each other. Nathan clears his throat.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, Tracey,” Lana mutters, embarrassed.

  “It’s fine. I’m used to it.”

  “While we’re over here,” Nathan starts. “We should check on my aunt and uncle.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Olar agrees. “I haven’t heard much since I told them.”

  We drive to the other side of the neighborhood, nearer Scott’s and my house. I haven’t met Scott’s parents as a part of the family yet, and I would’ve preferred it not to be under these conditions when we did officially meet.

  Nathan knocks.

  “It’s Nathan and his mate, feels like Olar and he has a mate as well,” a woman’s voice says from somewhere within the house.

  The door swings open. “Hello, Nathan, Tracey, Olar, and Lana, correct?” Mr. Fallon looks to Olar, and he nods. “Come in.” His voice is friendly, not mournful. It’s a great relief to see his bright smile instead of the sorrowful expression I was expecting. I expect for him to mourn his son’s death, but I know seeing him do so will flow a sea of tears from my eyes. And nobody wants to be witness to that.

  “Hello. How has everyone been?” Mrs. Fallon asks as we meet her in the living room. She isn’t as bright as her husband. Her grief sticks in her deep green eyes. They shift to Nathan and fill with tears when they lock eyes. Permanent creases pinch the corners of her eyes, and it looks as if her chin has trembled for so long it’s permanently scrunched upward.

  Nathan curls his arms around me. His tenseness makes his body rock hard as if he has his defensive shield up. Rubbing his arms, I try to suck away the misery. He turns his head to the side of my face and inhales through his nose. Stay calm, Nate. Let her scent calm you down.

  My brows pull together. There it is again. . . He takes another breath, and I hear his sigh in my head. Not wanting to give it away, I don’t mention it.

  Olar talks about Lana to Mr. and Mrs. Fallon. Every time the subject changes; he brings it back to her. It may be a refresher for them because they smile and nod, engaging with him.

  Nathan’s having a hard time managing whatever’s happening in him at this moment. His constant deep breaths and morphing of his skin concern me. From smooth to brittle, it shifts under my touch. I face him, and my nose brushes his. As I kiss my calm into his lips, his black eyes lift up to mine. I place my hand on the side of his face, assuring, “It’s okay.”

  His lips find mine again, stealing a kiss meant to further his calm. It’s begging. Not begging me but himself. I draw back, looking into pitch-black eyes. He’s not okay. I feel it all over him; guilt, hate, hurt, and desire.

  He leans forward, and I lean back. His eyes squint, studying me. She pulled away from me. His thoughts echo in my head again.

  Whoa! Nathan, what is wrong? I ask him.

  “What are you doing?” he frets, voice dark and angry.

  My brows knit. “Nathan, let’s step outside for a second,” I say, standing and pulling his arm. He doesn’t budge, and I lift my brows, widening my eyes.

  Reluctantly, he stands, muttering, “Excuse us.”

  I lean my back against the closed door, facing him. “Nate, what’s up—” His lips smash down on mine, cutting me off. With his body hard, his lips are far from soft, and his forcefulness hurts. “Nathan, stop,” I mumble, forcing his face away from mine.

  His eyes shoot open. A deep blue swirl outlined in gray stabs through me. He grows three inches taller right before my eyes. She did it again, his angered thoughts growl in my head.

  “You need to calm down, Nathan,” I warn.

  “Why do you keep pulling away from me?”

  “What is wrong with you?” I reach for him, and he snatches my wrist back before I can.

  His shoulders spread out like they did the other night and his color shifts. I can’t understand what the hell has happened. He’s freaking me out.

  Hands clutched tight around my wrists, he yanks me to him and tries to kiss me again. I avoid him, wrenching away, feeling the rejection from the separation strike my chest. “Nathan, where is all of this aggression coming from? What’s going on with you?” I avert to move from between him and the door and his arms shoot out, blocking me.

  “Tracey,” he growls. “Stop. Pulling. Away from me,” he snarls through his teeth.

  “Nathan, you’re turning red, you’re almost seven feet tall, and your eyes are their demon color. You’re starting to scare me.”

  “What?”

  “You’re changing! Why are you so upset?”

  “Just let me kiss you.” His voice softens. “And hold on to me.” I need you, and it’s fucking with me you keep pulling away. His angry thoughts cut into mine. I don’t think he realizes I can hear them.
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  “Nathan, listen. Calm down. Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

  He squeezes his eyes shut and reopens them. “I can’t. I’m not in control of this,” he snarls. “The only thing keeping me from ripping your fucking head off is your heartbeat.”

  “If you know you’re not in control, get in control. You’re making me uncomfortable.”

  His head falls in defeat, the Burdened ruling over the Sephlem. His hand gently slides over my neck, the cuff of it easily shoving against my throat. As he inhales, his sharpened teeth peek behind his darkened lips. Licking them, he backs away, growling airy-like.

  I pant, relieved he’s moved. “Nate.” I grab him as he pivots.

  He snatches away from me, barking, “Stop, Tracey. Get away from me.” There’s so much vigilance in his tone.

  My hands warm and my eyes demand me to blink, telling me Nathan’s a threat. He wants to harm me. I fear to blink because I don’t want to see what he intends to do to me, I don’t want to know. . .

  I need to figure out how to change him. How to help him.

  “Nate?” I ignore the threat, gently slipping my hand behind his shoulder, and pulling him to me. Giving in, I rise on my toes, and meet his lips. His body shifts, struggling between indulgent and inflexible. He grabs my waist, pulling me close. Let her scent calm you down. Get it together, Nate. You can’t hurt her. He thinks, inhaling. Taking control of my calming kiss, he shifts our moods, pushing my kiss past an innocent caress. It kisses me hard, sharp teeth scraping my lips, holding me too tightly.

  “Nathan,” I say, against his mouth not able to move away from him. “Stop.” I press my hands against his chest, trying to push him away, but the biggest blast I possess spurts from my hand.

  I’m airborne, flying backward. My back rams into something and I fall to the ground on my stomach. Grumbling, I lift myself to my knees and lean back, trying to catch my breath.

  A low rumble of snarls kick starts a panic in me. Slowly looking to my right, I take in the monster. “Sh-shit, Nate, please don’t.” I have the slightest idea how to fix this, and by the murderous look on his face, I’m dead. Olar, please come out here and help me. Something is wrong with Nathan.