Twisted Love (Blinded Love Series Book 3)

by Stacey Marie Brown

  A lump filled my stomach and hollowed it out at the same time, blinking back tears I didn’t understand. I had never thought about having a family or anything like that. I loved my life in New York. Sunday brunch with Maxine, and my lovely boys, Tristen and Andy, a divine couple I met in art school. Vapid talk about the night before or silly gossip, eating and getting day drunk before we’d either go shopping or to a movie.

  But watching Jaymerson and Hunter, suddenly my life felt shallow. In this moment I had never felt more alone. Emptier than I’d ever known before. Stevie inside her invincible castle. Isolated. Trapped. Only one person had slipped through, like a ghost, and haunted me even as I tried to shore up my defenses.

  “Boy, do I recognize that look.”

  I jolted at the sound of a voice behind me. Grandma Penny came up beside me at the sink, though she gazed out at the same scene.

  “What look?” My vocals decided to abandon me, coming out hoarse and cracked.

  “The same look I had after I lost my husband.” Penny’s warm hand covered mine, and she turned to look at me. “Heartbroken, lost, and utterly alone.”

  My chest knotted. An impulse to run from her, shove up my walls, deny any vulnerability she might have seen, clogged my throat, letting no denials out.

  “Go ahead, you can deny all you want, but I see you.”

  “Are you psychic or something?”

  “My grandmother dabbled in that stuff, but I think it’s bunch of hogwash.” Her grip tightened on my hand. “I just can see myself in you. After I lost my Jaymerson, I felt so lost. For years. As though I weren’t tied to anything. I felt all alone, an observer of other people’s lives. I remember that moment, it was a Christmas when Jaymerson was a baby and Noah and Amy were on the floor playing with her. Vanessa and Trevor, Jayme’s other grandparents, were playing cards, laughing about something. I walked in from another room, and I froze. I had this almost out-of-body experience.” She glanced back at the pool where Reece and Chloe were begging to be tossed by Hunter while Jayme gently dragged Cody around on a raft. “I knew people loved me. But...”

  I knew that but. Felt it in my soul.

  Penny’s gaze returned to me, her eyes analyzing me.

  “Yeah, you know exactly what I’m talking about.” Penny reached out softly touching my face. Tears squeezed out at her comforting touch. I had never been close to any of my grandparents and most were gone now.

  “I had never felt so empty and lonesome. I could have ignored it, gotten through, put on a fake smile, and pretended everything was fine. Return to my life, having lunch every Tuesday with my two friends I didn’t even really like.” She leaned against the counter. “Then I realized I would die a miserable, lonely person if I did that, so I faced it.”

  “How?” I croaked, my lashes fluttering as I swallowed.

  “I stopped playing roles, parts I performed but hadn’t enjoyed in a long time. I realized I had become this uptight person who conformed to the rules of society. They hadn’t made me happy in a very long time. Sadly, as much as I loved my husband, being a wife felt more like a duty. Guilt held me back for a while. How could I love someone so much and feel it was a chore, you know? I had to face a lot of fears and things I regretted in my life. Looking honestly at yourself is never comfortable. The person I had become was not someone I liked.”

  “So you jumped out of an airplane.” I chuckled, trying to lighten the dense mood.

  “Sweetheart, that’s just icing, the thing that gets this old body reviving again. Gives me a rush. But the work is within first. With you, jumping off a building or from a plane would have little effect. I think your true fear is letting people in.”

  Oxygen whistled through my teeth as I inhaled sharply.

  “I hid in the safety and structure of my life. You hide in the recklessness and glibness of yours.”

  I jerked back from the counter, my chest rising, anxiety thrumming my nerves like guitar chords, heart thumping.

  “Normally, I’d say something like ‘forgive an old lady, it’s not my place.’ But screw that. You are family, Stevie. You’re another granddaughter to me, and therefore you have to deal with my crazy ramblings just as Jayme does.” She took my hand back. “I just don’t want you to wake up one day, decades from now, alone…and yes, I mean even if there is some one-night stand lying next to you,” she winked, “only to realize you missed out on something real because you were afraid. I think you are at a pivotal time right now. You could really do something meaningful.”

  “Jayme! Mom!” Amy’s voice rang out from the garage, interrupting Penny’s monologue. “Someone help me bring in the shopping.”

  “Hold your britches, Amy,” Grandma Penny screamed back, rolling her eyes. “I’m talking to Stevie.”

  “Hey, Stevie!” Amy groaned, carrying in a couple of heavy shopping bags, smiling at me.

  “Let me help you.” I stepped toward the garage, grateful for the interruption.

  “Wow, that’s more help than I get from my own daughters.” She squeezed my arm as I passed. “Thank you.”

  As I brought in the rest of the grocery bags, Grandma Penny’s words rumbled through my mind in waves of anxiety. I wanted nothing more than to be by myself. Her insight stabbed into my gut, making me even more restless and uncomfortable in my skin.

  “I’m gonna take off. Tell Jayme I’ll call her later.” I backpedaled for the front door, reaching for my bag.

  “You sure you don’t want to stay for dinner? Noah’s making hamburgers.” Amy tucked her shoulder-length brown hair behind her ear; her youthful, stunning face still made it hard to believe she had a twenty-year-old daughter. Amy and Noah were those hot parents you saw only on TV shows. The poster couple for what a “MILF” and “FILF” look like.

  “No, I’m good. Dinner with Mom.” I edged to the door.

  “Maybe next time. Tell your mom hi for me,” Amy responded, but Penny’s knowing gaze bore into me.

  I didn’t care what that woman said; she had to be dabbling in psychic powers on the side. I adored her, but she kind of scared the crap out of me.

  On an impulse I hit the drugstore on the way home and picked a deep blood-red color to dye my bottom layer, streaking with the black already there.

  This had been my go-to when I got upset or irritated. Though what did that matter? It didn’t hurt anyone.

  Now I saw it through Grandma Penny’s eyes: the dye was symbolic, she’d probably say. One more layer to hide the scared broken girl underneath.

  Chapter Seven

  Shaded by a tree, the light morning breeze fluttered my newly dyed blonde-black-and-red-striped hair underneath. I sipped from a chilled glass of orange juice in my hand, watching my mom gardening in her flower beds before it got too hot, a phone pressed to my ear. Hendrix weaved around the chair I was sitting on, rubbing his head on my ankles.

  “When are you coming home, girl?” Tristen whined into the cell, the sounds of honking horns and jackhammers, the white noise of New York. When I was there, I didn’t even notice it, but in the quiet backyard of my house where the loudest noise was the chirping birds, it pierced my eardrums. “We miss you already. Not the same without you here.”

  “Come home, Stevie!” Andy yelled into the phone. I could tell by their breathing they were walking.

  “It’s been three days.” I chuckled.

  “Must feel like three weeks to you, huh?” Tristen replied knowingly. He heard me complain many times about this small town.

  “Surprisingly, not really.” It shocked me to admit it, but this trip didn’t feel so torturous. Don’t get me wrong; I missed New York. I belonged there much more than here, but for once I didn’t mind being home. I was enjoying the peace this morning.

  “Really?” Tristen sounded flabbergasted. “Please don’t tell me you’re moving back, dyeing your hair a reasonable shade of boring brown, and becoming a housewife?”

  “How did you know?” I put my hand to my chest. “Ah, it feels good to finall
y come out. Admit to you guys who I really am.”

  Tristen chuckled. “Well, we’ve got to go. Andy has an audition for an off-Broadway production, and I have a million things to do.” Andy was a dancer and singer who spent more time auditioning and picking up part-time work than actually being on stage. He was so talented, but sadly in New York even being extraordinary didn’t mean anything when the competition was enormous.

  Tristen kept them afloat, working for a major record label that offered him a job even before he graduated. “Oh, I have to tell you, your flyers are everywhere, and they are freaking gorgeous, girl. We are so excited for this weekend. I can’t believe we’ll be going to the relaunch of Gold Vinyl Records, which was completely your idea, and you won’t be there.”

  “I know.” I frowned. “But I needed to be here.”

  “I showed your work to my boss and he flipped.”

  I bolted up in my chair. “What?”

  “Oh, did I forget to mention that?” Tristen sounded distracted, muttering to Andy about something.

  “Uh. Yes,” I exclaimed.

  “He was busy working on a contract, but I think he might want you to do a mockup for an album coming up. A big name, but I can’t tell you who yet, so don’t ask.”

  “Holy. Shit. Are you serious?”

  “Completely. I don’t think you realize how good you are. I was in almost every class with you in college. You are great at producing music, but you are unbelievable at design. The graphics you make have so much depth. Just breathtaking.” A horn blared. “Fuck you too!” Tristen yelled. “Sweetie, I’ve got to go.”

  “Okay.” I patted my chest. “But please, let me know if he says anything again. I can work from anywhere.”

  “Don’t worry, I have your back, girl.”

  “Love you, Stevie!” Andy yelled to me.

  “Love you guys too. And break a leg, Andy!”

  Tristen kissed the air. “Byeee.” The phone clicked off.

  I stared down at it, my mouth hanging open. This was huge. It was as though something clicked inside. Before I kept my love for graphics at arm’s length, did it for fun, a hobby. I felt the need to follow the music route partly for my mom and especially for my dad, but this was what I wanted to do. Design an album cover? Music and design in one? There was nothing I wouldn’t do to make it happen.

  “What’s that smile for?” Mom strolled up, tugging off her gloves. “Who was on the phone?”

  “Tristen.” I flipped the cell between my palms. “He showed his boss my graphic for the record store and he loved it.”

  “That’s nice.”

  “No, Mom, you don’t get it. Tristen said he might be interested in having me do a mockup for an album cover.”

  “Wow!” She smiled. “Maybe they can hire you to produce it too. You are way too talented for that record store.”

  And there went my good mood. Mom had a way of clobbering me back down to earth in a single sentence. I didn’t have the energy to fight with her about it. She thought I was so talented I could just walk into a big label company and get a job. I was nowhere near good enough to even be a production assistant. There were so many brilliant people in the industry, and only a few had the security of the next job. I would never be more than mediocre because deep down, I didn’t want it enough.

  “Yes, Mom, I know how you feel about me working in a record store.”

  “I think you’re wasting your talent there. You need to be on the creating side, not the selling side.”

  “What are you doing today?” I switched topics, already feeling my nerves fraying.

  “Della and I are meeting for lunch.” She wiped her face with her sleeve. “Then I might check out the salon she goes to. I guess they are looking for a receptionist.”

  My father had left us some money, not a lot, enough to barely cover my school and for Mom to have a little to live on, but tuition and rent in New York were higher than we all figured, plus the upkeep on this house. I knew the money was running low so I did think a part-time job might be good for her. Also get her out of her tiny world.

  “Receptionist?” I questioned. “Do you have any experience in that?”

  “I can figure it out.”

  “I saw a sign that the music shop on Main Street is hiring. You’d be great there. Who knows music more than you?”

  “A music shop?” A flicker of light grazed her eyes before it blinked out. “No…I couldn’t possibly do that.” She shook her head, muttering. “What would Della say about that?”

  “Who gives a shit about Della?” I stared up at Mom. “Do what you want to do.”

  In that moment it hit me. My mom was a lot like Grandma Penny. Not the woman Penny was now, but the woman she described to me before she turned into the badass she was. Mom was having lunch with friends she didn’t even like, doing things which probably killed her soul a little more each day, because it was safe.

  “I hid in the safety and structure of my life. You hide in the recklessness and glibness of yours.” Grandma Penny’s words came back to me.

  My mom had once been full of life, but when tragedy stuck, she built a safe box around herself and had never found her way back out. She now hid in the safety and structure of her life. The harder realization was I was doing the same thing.

  “Mom, why do you even hang out with Della?”

  “What kind of question is that? She’s my friend.”

  “Is she?” I tilted my head. “Because friends support you no matter what. Accept you for all your quirks. They don’t control you or boss you around.”

  Mom’s chin lifted, her nostrils flaring. “Della stood by me after your father died.”

  “Yeah, because she’s a shark and could smell vulnerability in the water like blood.” I clasped my hands together. “What happened to Kera, Billy, and John? They used to be your best friends.”

  “Things changed after losing your dad. I felt like an outsider. I no longer belonged.”

  I doubted that. They were like my other parents; they had been so much a part of our family. I remember Kera especially, calling all the time after Dad passed, wanting Mom to come join them. But she pushed them away, made herself an outsider.

  “You did that, Mom.” I stood up, stepping back into my flip-flops. “You cut them off.”

  “Don’t you dare judge me!” She put her hands on her hips, a flare of the women I used to know seeping around the edges. “You have no idea how hard it’s been. I never imagined my life without him. Being alone, raising a daughter who pushes everything to the extreme. Girls, boys, drugs, alcohol… I don’t know what to do with you. He knew how to handle you. Love you. You listened to everything he said. I know you hate me, Stevie, but I’ve tried to be the best mother for you.”

  “I’ve never hated you.” I shook my head, sun striking my face through the leaves. “But maybe that’s the problem. You are trying too hard. Suffocating me. The more you clamp down, the more I explode.” I tossed up my arms. “I don’t want you to try to be my mom or play a role. I just want the amazing woman I grew up with. We may have butted heads a lot, but I idolized her. She was my hero.”

  Mom turned her face away, rubbing her nose with her knuckles.

  “Dad was our glue. He was good at being the middle man. But I’m not a little girl anymore. I don’t need you to monitor me or raise me anymore. He’d want you to be happy.” I swallowed, my hands on my hips. “Are you happy, Mom?”

  She didn’t speak, move, or look at me, her chest vibrating as if she were trying not to cry.

  My phone buzzed in my hand. I saw it was a text from Whiskey.

  “Shit.” I hit my cell against my leg.

  “What?” Mom wiped at her eyes, turning to look at me.

  “The baby had to go back into surgery.”

  “Oh no.” Mom’s hand dropped to her chest. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know, but it can’t be good.” I rubbed my temples.

  “Go,” Mom replied. “You need to be t
here for your friends. I can’t imagine what that poor girl is going through.” Her brown eyes met mine. “Your children are your whole world, and the thought of anything happening to them…” Her forehead crumbled with grief. “The idea paralyzes you.”

  Like another dot was connected, I was beginning to understand more why she went from carefree parent to helicopter mom. She lost the love of her life, so the idea of losing me…

  I stepped up to her, wrapping my arms around her. “I love you, Mom.”

  She let out a little noise, gripping me tightly back. “You are everything to me. All I have in this world.”

  “That.” I leaned back staring at her. “We need to change. You need to be happy with yourself, have a life. I shouldn’t be your whole world.”

  “Just wait until you have kids.”

  “Never gonna happen, Mom.” I belted a deep guttural laugh. “You’ve seen what I do to plants.”

  “Well, kids or not…” She gripped my chin lightly. “You have more love to give than you think, Stevie. You can deny it, but you have a huge heart and love with it all.”

  She didn’t know the truth.

  That huge heart had been ruined and only black, broken pieces remained.

  Chapter Eight

  “Megan, you’re driving me crazy.” Jones patted the chair next to him, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Sit.”

  Megan paced close to the doors, biting her nails. Hunter, Jayme, Jones, and I sat in the chairs. The waiting room was quiet, our group taking up most of it. The only two absent were Doug, who had to stay at the garage, and Chris. Shocker. Hunter’s mother was watching Cody.

  “I can’t.” Megan wrapped her hair in a messy bun, her natural curls springing out like they were trying to escape. I couldn’t stop staring at her, really seeing how pretty she was. Her face was roundly angelic. She was tall, lean, and had skin so smooth I wanted to run my finger across it, but nothing about her was sweet. If you weren’t her friend, she would kick your ass for looking at her wrong. Her armor was so extensive it almost became transparent, but there was no way you’d call her on it.