Branded

by Tara Sivec

  “Someone’s been in her house and it’s a fucking mess,” I tell him, not bothering with a hello. I don’t want to be pissed at the guy, but he’s been watching her house the entire night and her fucking father still managed to sneak in right under his nose.

  “Jesus Christ,” Jackson mutters through the line. “He must have come in through the backyard. I’ll get some people in there to take fingerprints and clean the place up. Anything missing?”

  “I don’t fucking know!” I shout into the phone. “He left another goddamn note. I didn’t feel like sticking around to check the place out. I just wanted to get her out of there.”

  “Do you want me to follow you guys and let someone else take care of the house?” he asks.

  “No. I’ve got it under control tonight. Just find this motherfucker.”

  I end the call, tossing my cell back into the cup holder.

  The sight of Phina lying in the middle of my bed does things to me. Girly things. Pussy things. Definitely not manly things. She’s curled up on her side with her hands under her cheek and my heart fucking melts as I sit on the edge of the bed staring at her. When I got her to my place, she woke up long enough to let me force a glass of water and a couple of aspirin into her before she passed out again and I carried her to my room.

  Leaning over her, I smooth her hair off of her face and press my lips to her temple, closing my eyes and breathing her in.

  I move my lips away, replacing them with my forehead.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whisper.

  She sighs and I lean back a little to look at her face, but she doesn’t open her eyes.

  “I loved you. I really, really loved you,” she mumbles in her sleep.

  I smile sadly down at her, wishing more than anything that I could go back fifteen years and not drink one drop of alcohol that night at the party.

  “You have no idea how in love with you I was back then,” I whisper back, running my hands softly through her hair.

  “I just wanted to be good enough for you. He always said I wasn’t good enough for anyone before he’d push his cigarette into my skin. I wanted to be good enough for you to remember,” she mumbles, burrowing herself deeper into my pillow.

  That motherfucking piece of shit.

  I want to take all of her clothes off right this minute and find the scars that pathetic piece of shit left on her body. I want to kiss each and every one of them and tell her she’s better than anyone I’ve ever met and that shit should have never been done to her. I think about how she refused to let me take her underwear off that night with Dax and the idea that her own father left marks on her on any part of that covered area fills me with rage. I remember how panicked she was this morning in the park when she woke up to find her pants pulled down and now the words she said to me make complete sense. She was afraid I’d seen what he did to her. She’s so strong and fierce and I know it would have killed her for me to see something like that – the one time in her life when she couldn’t fight back and a permanent reminder of what she went through.

  I take a few deep breaths, pushing my anger aside for the time being.

  “Oh, Fireball, I always remembered. I was just too stupid to see it. How in the fuck could I ever forget? And you are more than good enough, dammit.”

  She smiles in her half-asleep state.

  “I hate that I still love you,” she murmurs.

  My hand pauses with my fingers tangled in her hair. I want to shake her awake. I want her to open her eyes and look at me when she fucking says something like that. Jesus Christ, she probably won’t even remember she said this shit to me tomorrow, and it’s exactly what I deserve.

  Placing another kiss on the top of her head, I pull my shirt off as I get up from the bed and toss it over into the dirty clothesbasket. I do the same with my pants before turning off the lamp on the bedside table and walking around the bed to climb in under the covers behind her. Sliding one arm under her neck and wrapping the other around her waist, I pull her back against me and let every inch of her body mold against mine. I bury my face into her hair and close my eyes.

  “I love you, and I won’t let anything happen to you,” I promise her quietly in the dark room.

  The smell of bacon and eggs makes my stomach growl, but I’m so warm and comfortable in bed that I pull the covers tighter around me and keep my eyes closed. I hear humming coming from somewhere outside of the bedroom and my eyes fly open. I bolt up in bed, looking around the room frantically.

  This is not my bedroom and this is definitely not my bed. The sheets smell like DJ and I groan, dropping my head and cursing myself.

  What in the hell did I do last night? I remember going to McCallahan’s and drinking myself silly, but everything after that is fuzzy. Shit, I think I might have yelled at DJ and told him about what happened in high school.

  Fuck, I am never drinking again.

  Pulling the covers up, I glance down at myself nervously, hoping to God DJ didn’t undress me. There are only so many truths that need to come out in one night, thank you very much. Thankfully, I’m still wearing clothes. The only thing missing are my boots.

  Sliding out of bed, I pad across the carpet and let my nose lead me to the kitchen. My traitorous stomach growls again at the smell. I don’t even remember the last time I ate, but all I want to do right now is get the hell out of here. I don’t like feeling embarrassed and I know as soon as I look at DJ’s face, I’m going to regret the truth serum I drank last night. Jesus, did I tell him anything aside from the fact that he drunkenly took my virginity?

  Rounding the corner into the kitchen, I see DJ standing in front of the stove, his chest bare and a pair of drawstring pants hanging low on his hips. He happily hums as he stirs whatever he’s cooking and my mouth twitches with the need to smile. My hands also start tingling with the need to run them down his muscular back and possibly around the front to dip into the waistband of his pants and palm his cock.

  A scoff flies out of my mouth at my errant thoughts, the sound making DJ turn his head and smile at me over his shoulder.

  “Breakfast is almost ready. How’s your head this morning?” he asks.

  I try not to feel mortified as I think about all the things I might have said under the influence last night.

  “Fine, my head is fine,” I tell him, clearing my throat when my voice comes out rough and scratchy.

  DJ turns back around to face the stove, removing the pan from the burner before walking across the kitchen to stand in front of me.

  “Do you want some more aspirin?” he asks gently.

  I roll my eyes. “Stop being so fucking nice to me.”

  He just laughs and shakes his head at me. “Shut up and grab a plate before it gets cold.”

  I grab onto his arm when he starts to walk away and pull him back to me. “Why in the hell am I at your house and where are my damn boots?”

  I really just want to get out of here before DJ brings up things I may or may not have said last night. Also, the sight of him standing in front of me shirtless makes me want to strip off my clothes and beg him to fuck me again.

  “You’re here because your place was trashed last night, and so were you. You don’t remember going home?”

  I try to recall the events that occurred after I walked out of the bar, but all I can remember is laughing like an idiot and being in DJ’s arms. Fuck, I definitely remember how good it felt to have him hold me.

  “Yeah, I can tell by the confused look on your face that you don’t remember,” he tells me with a smile. “It’s probably better that way. Your father broke into your house while you were gone. Made a mess of your living room and left another note. The cop that was supposed to be watching your house must have been taking a donut break or some fucking shit. The place is being cleaned and fingerprinted, so you’re going to have to wait before you can go back there. And before you even try to argue, if you do go back there, I’m not leaving your side. Say hello to your new roommate.”

&nb
sp; The smirk on his face pisses me off. I don’t like being told what to do and I especially don’t like the idea that he feels the need to stick to me like glue. I smack my hand against his chest.

  “You’re not living with me,” I growl.

  “The fuck I’m not,” he argues back.

  I smack his chest again, harder this time. “There is no fucking way I’m living with YOU!”

  “Give me one good reason why?”

  I huff, pulling forth every bit of anger and hatred I’ve held onto towards him for years, ever since that fucking night of the graduation party.

  “BECAUSE YOU TOOK MY VIRGINITY AND DIDN’T EVEN REMEMBER IT, YOU ASSHOLE!”

  He loses a bit of the fight in him, but that doesn’t stop me.

  “I finally got the damn courage to give up the V, to someone who I truly liked and probably even loved a little, and you didn’t even remember it the next morning!” I shout.

  “Phina,” he whispers softly, pain laced through his voice.

  “NO! You don’t get to be all sweet and sorry now. Do you have any idea what my childhood was like? To never know what it was like to be loved and touched with something other than hatred? I found that in you for one fucking night. One fucking night I was able to forget everything and think that maybe I had a chance at a normal life with a normal guy who could love me back and you shit all over it!” I yell, feeling the sting of tears behind my eyes.

  I will not cry, I will not cry. I don’t fucking cry!

  “I woke up in that bed alone. You fucking left me alone, but I still couldn’t stay away from you. I got dressed and came out to the living room to find you and do you know what you said?”

  He shakes his head back and forth and I don’t know if it’s him answering my question or telling me not to keep going.

  “You took one look at my tangled hair, my smudged eye make-up and my wrinkled clothes and said, ‘Rough night, sweetheart? Who was the lucky guy?’”

  I feel a tear slip down my cheek and I brush it away angrily. I hate that I’m crying over him. I hate him for making me feel all of this stupid emotion about something that happened years ago.

  “So, you want to know why I won’t live with you? Why I won’t do THIS with you?” I ask, motioning between us. “Because you broke my fucking heart, DJ Taylor. You broke my fucking heart and you’re a DICK!”

  Turning away from him, I storm out of the kitchen, grab my boots when I see them sitting by the front door and head outside.

  I am dirt. Lower than dirt. I am the worms beneath the dirt. Every good argument I had for having her stay with me flew out the window when she started to cry. I can handle a lot of things, but I can’t handle a woman who cries. Talk about breaking someone’s heart. I should have told her that I did remember. It took me fifteen years, but I remembered. Instead of chasing after her, I pulled out my cell phone and made a few really quick calls while she stood on the front porch and angrily pulled her boots on.

  This is probably going to be the opposite of getting back on her good side, but I can’t let her leave until she hears me out.

  Stepping out onto the front porch, I see her arguing with Jackson, who is parked in my driveway. She gestures wildly at the house and I watch him shake his head at her. She points at him and then turns her angry eyes on me, stomping back up the walkway and pounding up the stairs.

  “You called him and told him not to let me leave? Have you lost your fucking mind?” she shouts.

  She stands two steps below me and I can still see the tear tracks on her face, even though her cheeks are flushed with anger.

  “Right now, you’re safer here,” I tell here. “What’s the real problem?”

  I want to add that I’m sorry I made her cry, I’m sorry I hurt her and I will do anything to make up for it. I wisely keep my mouth shut for now. My balls are entirely too close to her knee.

  “BULLSHIT! You just want to torture me! And the real problem is that I used to DATE HIM! I don’t want him following me around, that’s just embarrassing!”

  She turns and goes back down the steps, flopping her ass down on the grass in the front yard.

  I let the dating comment go for now because I’m trying really hard NOT to fight with her, but Jesus Christ! Someone could have filled me in on that shit ahead of time.

  “What are you doing?” I ask as I walk down to stand next to her.

  “I’m not going back inside that house. Go away,” she tells me stubbornly.

  I hear the rumble of a fire truck and smile to myself as it pulls up to the curb right in front of my house. Ah, the cavalry is here.

  Walking past Phina, I meet Collin by the side of the truck and shake his hand. “Thanks for doing this. I promise it will only take a minute.”

  He opens the front passenger door and reaches inside for the radio, pulling the cord taut as he hands it to me.

  “Are you kidding me, I wouldn’t miss this shit for the world!” Collin says with a laugh. “Cord should reach all the way to the top. Just stomp on the roof when you’re ready.”

  Collin jumps back inside the truck on the passenger side and I put the cord to the radio in my mouth and climb up the side of the truck until I’m at the top. I stomp twice on the roof and Collin pounds back from the inside. From up here, I have a clear view of Phina still sitting on the lawn looking pissed off, but a little curious. I clear my throat nervously and press the talk button on the radio.

  “My name is DJ Taylor and I’m a dick.”

  My voice echoes through the neighborhood since Collin turned on the switch to the external speaker and I hear him laugh from inside the truck.

  I stomp my foot again to get him to stop cackling at my expense.

  I point towards Phina and continue. “That beautiful woman right there gave me the most amazing gift in the world and I shit all over it.”

  Her mouth drops open as she stares at me. I hear dogs start to bark and see a few neighbors walking out on their front porch to see what all the commotion is about.

  “I just want you to know, in front of God and all of my neighbors, that I DO remember. I remember it all. It took me fifteen fucking years to remember and that doesn’t make it okay, but I remember. I’m sorry for hurting you, I’m sorry that I broke your heart and I’m sorry that you don’t trust me because of it. Did I forget anything?”

  She pushes herself up from the grass and glares at me.

  “You’re an asshole!” she shouts.

  “Right, also, I am a complete and total asshole,” I announce into the radio.

  She turns around and stomps back up my stairs and into the house, slamming the door behind her. With a smile, I climb back down off of the rig and hand Collin the radio through the open passenger window.

  A few of the neighbors clap and I wave my hand at them.

  “Got it all on video. Can’t wait to show it to the guys,” Collin laughs as he slides over behind the wheel.

  “Fuck you.”

  He continues to laugh as he starts up the truck. “Good luck in there, buddy.”

  I turn away from the truck as he pulls away and head inside the house. I find Phina back in the kitchen, pacing across the tile, still fuming. She stops moving when I walk up to her.

  “Why in the hell did you do that?”

  “I just wanted you to know how sorry I am. And I wasn’t lying when I said I remember. I remember you asking me to go slow, I remember how I felt like the luckiest fucker in the entire world and I remember thinking that it must be a dream because the girl I had been in love with for years would never give something like that to an idiot like me,” I explain. “I had A LOT to drink that night, and I know it doesn’t excuse anything, but it’s the only excuse I have. And do you know why I said that shit to you the next morning? Because my hung-over ass really thought you’d slept with someone else and I was pissed. I’d wanted you for as long as I could remember and I wanted to kick the ass of whoever got to have you. If I could, I would kick my own ass right now.”


  I hold my breath as she walks closer to me.

  “You drive me crazy,” she says.

  “The feeling is mutual. When do you want to go to your place and pack a bag?”

  She rolls her eyes and shakes her head at me.

  “That is non-negotiable. I am still not going to live with you.”

  I let myself touch her, wrapping my hands around her arms.

  “I need to make sure your safe. I don’t want to worry about you when you’re not here.”

  She shrugs out of my grasp angrily and takes a step back.

  “I am not your fucking responsibility!” she shouts, smacking her hands into my chest.

  I move towards her, refusing to let her move away from me. “I love you! That makes you my fucking responsibility!”

  “I love you! That makes you my fucking responsibility!”

  Oh, Jesus, why did he have to go and say THAT?

  I hear the conviction in his voice, see the pure honesty in his eyes and it’s like someone punched their fist right through the walls of my chest, wrapped their hand around my heart and squeezed the life out of it. I’ve never felt more unworthy than I do right at this moment. How can he love me? How can he possibly love someone with so much baggage and who is so clearly fucked up? I’m standing here hitting him again when all I want to do is latch onto him and never let go. His words mean more to me than he could ever know. No man has ever loved me. No man has ever looked at me and saw something more, something deeper, something other than the façade. DJ sees me. He sees what I could be, he recognizes that there’s more to me than the bitch who pushes everyone away, and it scares the shit out of me. His words have branded my soul and have cracked that last piece of armor I’ve firmly held in place for so long. I want to fall apart in his arms and beg him to give me more, which just makes me lash out.