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Battle Page 10

by KJ Bell


  My eyes sting, but I will not cry again. Tears are proof I have feelings for him, and I don’t want him to know.

  “Sure you did, sweetheart.” His indignant laugh stirs my guilt. “You simply feel like shit for sayin’ it out loud.”

  “I do feel like shit. Okay? I regret what I said.” My palms sting when I slap into his solid chest. Like a brick wall, he doesn’t budge. “I’m sorry, but stop fuckin’ punishin’ me!”

  A twisted look of concern flashes over his features. He squeezes the sides of my face. I want him to let go. The pain reflecting back at me in his beautiful eyes is too much to bear. He holds tight, and with a tortured voice says, “It’s not you I’m punishin’, sweetheart.”

  My knees buckle when he lets go of me. Before I can catch my breath, he disappears inside. I slide down the wall and hug my bent legs to my chest. A fight brews between my brain and my heart. My brain knows Battle doesn’t fit into my future plans, but my heart will go to war to keep him in my life. There’s the truth I’ve been too afraid to admit. I may have given him my body willingly, but he stole my heart.

  “Oh, my God! Are you okay?” Ginger yells. Her heels clank loudly into the concrete as she runs toward me. I nod faintly and stand up.

  “I have to do somethin’.” I can’t look at her or I’ll cry. “Will you come with me?”

  She nods and follows me into the bar.

  It takes me a while to find Battle. He’s playing pinball in the corner. A cigarette dangles between his lips. I suppose I’m responsible for his nicotine relapse as well. I’d been expecting to see him with his tongue down the blonde’s throat, and I’m relieved he’s alone.

  I square my shoulders as I approach him. He doesn’t look up when I lay the stack of checks and cash on the glass of the pinball machine. I stare at him, giving him a second to acknowledge me, to look at me. To say something—anything to reassure me he’s more than a hollow shell of a man, hell bent on punishing himself for God knows what reasons. To make me believe my heart isn’t deceiving me by thinking he actually cares about me. Nothing. He doesn’t even blink.

  Ginger puts her arm around me as we walk to her car. With close friendships comes understanding. Ginger knows me well enough to understand I’m not ready to talk about what happened. Even when she drops me off at my car and says goodbye, she doesn’t push for details.

  My parents are expecting me for dinner in half an hour. I have no desire to go, but they need to know Wyatt and I are no longer together. They’ll be upset, but I believe once I explain how things have been going, they’ll understand. As much as they like Wyatt, I’m their daughter. I know they want me to be happy.

  At least the restaurant they chose is relatively casual. I can wear jeans. After I get dressed, I pull my long blonde waves into a ponytail and freshen up my makeup.

  I arrive at the restaurant a few minutes late. The hostess shows me to the table where my parents are. There are three extra and unexpected people in attendance. My chest flames. The heat spreads slowly up my neck as my hands shake mildly. I take a deep breath to stay calm. How could they ambush me like this?

  “Hey, beautiful,” Wyatt says. I glare at him as he walks over to me. He kisses me on the cheek and whispers, “I missed you.”

  Sure he missed me. That’s why he called me every night and sent flowers.

  “Obviously,” I huff as his mother approaches me.

  “Oh, Faye, it’s been too long since you’ve come to see me.” Her hand is cold in mine as she kisses both of my cheeks. I don’t recall her coming to see me, or calling to see how I was.

  She flips her shoulder length brown hair before returning to the table. Mr. Daughtrey greets me with a friendly hello from the chair next to her.

  I glance at my parents. Their expressions alert me to what they already know. I dumped Wyatt and they aren’t happy about it. The crease between my father’s eyebrows is deeper than I’ve ever seen it. My mother looks like she’s been sucking on a lemon, and neither of them says a word.

  “Mom, Dad,” I say, with a tenacious distance I hope they feel.

  “Faye.” My father nods as I fill the seat next to my mother.

  The air in the room thickens with unpleasant vibes. Everyone radiates unpleasantness, except for Wyatt, who sits, gloating with a complacent grin.

  He’s pulled this crap before. It usually works. The difference this time is I’ve matured in the last few weeks, become an independent woman, less fearful of spontaneity, and more accepting of life’s unexpected turns. I’m not afraid of abandoning the plan if it no longer works for me. And Wyatt Daughtrey definitely no longer fits into my future.

  He had an opportunity to prove himself worthy of me, and he failed. I will not be held accountable for his actions by our parents.

  My father sits up in his chair. I silently recite what I know he’s going to say, before he opens his mouth and repeats it verbatim. “Faye, honey, life’s like a game of chess, one wrong move and it’s game over. Wyatt has shared with us that you broke up with him. We’re a little disappointed to say the least. Makin’ such radical decisions without thinkin’ them through is rather irresponsible.”

  I mentally roll my eyes. “I gave plenty of consideration to my decision.”

  “Well, honey,” my mother interjects, “I’m sure the two of you can work it out. I had cold feet before I married your father, but we talked about it, and … it worked out.”

  I can’t do this. I can’t listen to them draw comparisons, and try to manipulate me to do what they want. They need to hear what I want. “What happens in mine and Wyatt’s relationship is between me and Wyatt. I’m sorry, and I mean this as politely as possible, but y’all need to butt out.”

  “Faye,” my mother recoils.

  “No, Mother.” I hold my hand up, shooting Wyatt a menacing glance. “Wyatt and I have an understandin’.”

  “Hardly,” Wyatt tosses his hands up. “You broke up with me, and I didn’t even get a say.”

  “Do you actually want to have this conversation in front of our parents?” I ask through gritted teeth.

  “We’re concerned about you, honey,” my mom offers. “You haven’t been yourself lately.”

  “Yes, I was very disappointed to hear you requested a break,” Mrs. Daughtrey chimes in, adding her unsolicited two cents. “Wyatt is working extremely hard. You should be supportive.”

  Now I do roll my eyes for the world to see. “Is that what he told you? No disrespect, but Wyatt is the one who requested a break.” I turn my head to Wyatt. “What was it, the fourth, maybe fifth one since college?”

  “Faye, don’t,” Wyatt requests, his plan failing miserably and slapping him in the face.

  “No, Wyatt. You wanted this little meetin’. Let’s get the truth out.”

  He glares at me with his jaw set firm, and his eyes wide. “I don’t think we need to do that.”

  “Why?” I ask with renewed confidence. All of sudden, I’m grateful he planned this little get-together. Things have needed to be said for a while, and now I have the opportunity to speak up. “Have you not told your mother about the other women?”

  “Wyatt,” Mrs. Daughtrey shrieks. “How could you cheat on Faye?”

  “Yeah, Wyatt, how could you?” I’m gloating now, and it feels terrific.

  “We weren’t together, Mom. I know I made a mistake. I’ve apologized to Faye, and I thought we were past it.”

  His mother purses her lips, crossing her arms in front of her chest. My parents have sat quietly, and I wonder what they’re thinking.

  “Young men do make mistakes. It’s how they grow, and if you weren’t together it’s not cheating.” Wyatt’s father’s pathetic attempt to defend his son sets me off.

  “We were only apart because Wyatt dumped me in order to fuck who he wanted with a clear conscience.”

  A collective gasp overwhelms the air. I realize my voice carried and people are staring.

  “Faye Callahan, that’s enough.” My father’s
firm tone makes me feel like I’m still a child. I respond as though I am, by hanging my head, and stewing in my anger.

  Our parents carry on, suggesting ways to mend my relationship with Wyatt. Don’t they realize we’re people, not a boo-boo they can make all better with a Band-Aid and a kiss? I want to scream and freak out, but we’re in public. I’ve already created a scene.

  My phone vibrates. I glance at the screen to a text from Battle.

  B: I’m sorry for how I acted and for every hurtful word. Forgive me.

  My entire demeanor brightens as I smile involuntarily.

  F: You were hurtful. But so was I. I’m sorry, too. I accept your apology, but I think it’s best if you hire Ginger to help you. I can’t work with you.

  B: I understand. I’ll call her tomorrow.

  I wonder about what making amends means for the two of us. Do we try to be friends? I don’t want a fling. He knows that. I don’t know what to say.

  F: I’ll tell her to expect you.

  B: Can we talk?

  F: I’m having dinner with my parents.

  B: Where are you? I can pick you up.

  He wants to talk in person? Battle showing up here, with my parents and Wyatt and the Daughtrey’s would be a complete and utter disaster.

  F: I’m at Flambard’s, but dinner is almost over. Can it wait until I get home? I’ll call you.

  B: No. It can’t. I’m sorry, but you need to know… I don’t want more.

  So much for my minute of happiness. This is officially the worst night of my life. I wrestle with how to reply, if at all. What do I say? I decide not to respond. Nothing will change Battle’s mind. He’s incapable of love and content to be alone.

  In time, my heart will accept his decision. I slide the phone under my thigh. Conversation continues at the table, mostly mine and Wyatt’s parents’ reiterating their expectations of our future nuptials. They still think they can salvage our relationship.

  Can they? Maybe I should be content to marry Wyatt and make my parents happy. It’s always been the plan. Life was good until Battle stormed into my life, like a tornado, wreaking havoc on my emotions.

  No. Using Battle for an excuse is wrong, even if I’m hurt. My reasons for not wanting to be with Wyatt have nothing to do with Battle. Wyatt and I began growing apart years ago. I only have myself to blame for pretending as long as I did. Regardless of what my parents want, I’d rather be alone than ever get back together with Wyatt, let alone be his wife.

  My phone vibrates again. I’m scared to look. Battle already stomped on my heart. What more can he do? I pick it up, and my heart swells when I read his text.

  B: I WANT THE MIDDLE!

  I smile, one that hurts. He wants the middle. He wants to know me, and he wants to let me know him. I quickly reply.

  F: You do?

  B: I haven’t been able to quit thinking about you since our night together.

  I blush profusely and glance around the table. While my dinner company carries on the planning out of my life, I text him back.

  F: I think about you also.

  B: I can’t make any promises, but I want to spend time with you and see what happens.

  His latest text makes me feel like I could float away.

  “Faye you’re being very disrespectful,” Daddy barks. “Put the phone down so we can finish this conversation.”

  I glance up from my phone, greeted with scowls from five people. I look at my father. Anger surges through me. I can no longer tolerate his incessant need to stick to the plan. The plan where I marry Wyatt sucks, and it’s time I told him.

  “There’s nothin’ further to discuss. I don’t want to be with Wyatt. I did, but he made a choice, and now, for once in my life, I’m makin’ one. And I choose to move on. I’m goin’ home, and the next time we meet for dinner, I hope you will not bombard me.” I move to my mother and kiss her on the cheek. I kiss my father on the top of the head. “I love you both, but this is my decision.”

  My father takes my hand, looking right at me. “I respect that, honey.”

  I’m completely flabbergasted, and I smile. “Thank you, Daddy. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  Before I leave, I hug Mrs. Daughtrey, and while I don’t have to, I apologize for my outbursts. She gives me a cold smile. It will take her much longer to get over me and Wyatt breaking up. She’s invested, having made big plans, including me wearing her wedding dress. I hug Mr. Daughtrey, who warmly tells me to stay in touch.

  Wyatt won’t look at me. I’m too angry with him to care, but I hate that his current behavior is taking away from the fond memories I have of our relationship.

  A warm breeze hits me in the face as I step outside. I text Battle with my address, letting him know I’ll be home in ten minutes. I practically skip to my car that’s parked on the side of the restaurant. As I reach my destination, a smile overtakes my face. The weight I’d been carrying has been heavier than I ever realized. Releasing it, and being honest with my parents and myself, feels exhilarating. I want to dance, and if it were possible, I would fly.

  “Who were you texting?” Wyatt startles me. He’s alone, which mean he wants to talk. I don’t have anything to say to him. All I want to do is go home, call Battle, and see what the future has planned for me.

  “A friend,” I answer casually.

  “Which one?”

  I feel my cheeks turning bright red. “No one you know.”

  “Who is he?”

  “What makes you think it’s a he?”

  He shakes his head. “I saw everything. The blush on your cheeks and the smile on your lips you tried so hard to hide.”

  “Oh,” I whisper.

  “How long did you wait to fuck him?” he asks with a sinister look, his lip snarled.

  “How long did you wait, Wyatt?” I snap. How dare he ask me such a question after the amount of women he’s slept with.

  “At least you didn’t deny it. You can’t. I know you too well. You were glowin’ in the restaurant. I’ve never seen you look more beautiful.”

  “You never made me feel beautiful.” The words flow from my mouth before I can take them back. “I’m sorry. That was cruel.”

  “No. I deserve that,” he says, his voice low. “Were you ever happy?”

  His question sends a sharp pain through my chest. The place we’re in is messed up.

  “Honestly, I was. We had a wonderful relationship in the beginning. I don’t regret any of it. Not many girls can say their first time was with someone who loved them and made it special. Do you remember?”

  His lips curve up as he remembers. “I wanted it to be perfect.”

  “And it was,” I admit, because it’s the absolute truth. Wyatt arranged a hotel room after prom and when we arrived, there were candles and roses throughout. More than the room, and the thought he put into the night, was how he treated me. He was gentle, kind, and concerned, even when we woke in each other’s arms. It will always be a special memory. I cup his cheek. “I care about you, but we’ve grown apart. It happens. We’ve changed. We want different things—different people.”

  He holds my hand to his cheek. “I thought I did, until I spent weeks in Chicago alone.” I remove my hand as he continues. “When I wasn’t workin’, all I did was think about you, and how I could make things right. I should have called, but I was tryin’ to give you some time.”

  “I appreciate that, but it’s too late. I’m sorry.”

  His eyes darken as he curls his fingers around my arm. He yanks me roughly against his chest. I wince when his other hand grips my face. It’s painful, but I’m afraid to fight back. Wyatt has a sweet, kind side, but he also has a nasty temper. He’s never hit me, but he’s thrown things and punched holes in walls. I’m not entirely sure what he’s capable of.

  “Don’t you miss me?” he asks, releasing his grasp on my face.

  I refuse to cry, but my voice shakes. “Sometimes, but only our friendship.”

  “I don’t want to be your friend.
” He jerks my arm, his fingernails close to breaking the skin. “Tell me you don’t love me anymore.”

  My legs tremble. I want to scream, but nothing comes out when I open my mouth.

  “Say it!” he screams.

  “You’re hurtin’ me,” I cry out.

  His grip on my arm tightens. “Yeah, well you’re fuckin’ killin’ me.”

  “Please…Let go of my arm.” I’m pleading with a wall. My only choice is to say what he wants to hear. “I don’t love you anymore.”

  “Yes you do. I know you do. You just need a reminder.” He ensnares me in both of his arms, clutching me tightly to his six-foot frame. At five-feet, two inches, and a whopping hundred and fifteen pounds, I don’t stand a chance of escape.

  He crashes his lips to mine. I try to turn my head, but he grabs my face and holds it steady. Fury stares back at me as he bends his head down to kiss me again. I scream and try to fight, but I’m defenseless.

  Nothing deters him, not even when I kick his shins. I attempt to knee him in the groin, but I miss. He laughs as his sloppy tongue moves all over my lips, seeking a way inside. Tears form and start to leak from my eyes.

  A growl of a motorcycle booms like thunder through the parking lot. The throaty sound grows louder by the second. The bike screeches to a halt in front of us, but Wyatt doesn’t appear to care. He won’t let go of my face, but he stopped trying to kiss me.

  I can see the rider from the corner of my eye. Despite the helmet, I know it’s Battle. He dismounts the bike, removes his helmet, and places it on the seat. His eyes flash with rage as he charges toward Wyatt.

  “Take your fuckin’ hands off her,” Battle yells.

  Wyatt lets go of me and before he can react, Battle’s fist surges forward and connects with Wyatt’s jaw. I cover my mouth. My legs feel like cement, and I can’t take in a full breath.

  Wyatt stumbles backward but maintains his footing. Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth. He wipes it on the back of his hand. “You must be the new guy.” Wyatt laughs maliciously. Battle stares back at him with rage, but Wyatt continues to twists the knife. “I’m the boyfriend. Why don’t you get lost? She loves me.”

 

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