Overall our time together was short enough for me to not grasp how much I loved being around him. To deny what I felt for him. Ignore how possessive and proud I felt when he’d take me to a supercross event. With others, I either couldn’t get them out the door fast enough, or I couldn’t get out fast enough.
Anxiety climbed up my throat and I began to sweat. I chucked the eggs and bacon on the counter, swiveling for the living room.
“Where are you going?”
“To check my phone,” I fibbed, saying the first excuse that came out before I strode around the corner where he couldn’t see me.
I fell against the wall, my hand going to my chest, gulping for air. Leave now. You don’t let people close. And love is something you don’t ever want to let in.
Not again.
Once my heart had not been so closed off, but life had cut it up and charred it until nothing was left but dust. I wiped the sweat lining my forehead, even though the AC blew right down on me.
Noises of Chris moving around the kitchen, the sound of bacon crackling in the pan, filled my ears, but I felt like I was outside our bubble looking in.
What were we doing? Last night I had almost confessed. I hated how much I had already showed him. How much he might already put together. I never wanted him to look at me with pity. Disgust.
Instinct made me want to run, but my legs were cemented to the floor. Lowering my lashes, I took in several deep breaths, the aroma of bacon clawing at my empty stomach.
Damn bacon. It was the real temptress. I could be out the door if it wasn’t for that delicious vixen. I blame bacon for why I was staying here. And coffee and fried eggs.
Inhaling deeply, I lowered my shoulders, trying to gather myself together.
Craaassshhh.
The shrill of reverberations boomed and clattered from the kitchen, jolting my heart as they sounded like an explosion went off, metal hitting the wood floor with a deafening cry.
I lurched forward, terror clotting my throat as I ran back for the other room, my feet halting when I saw Chris’s legs behind the island. The pans along with the bacon and eggs were spread all over the floor, the flames from the stove still blazing.
“Oh my god!” I shrieked, scrambling around the counter, my knees crashing against the floor, reaching for him.
He was pale but responded instantly to my touch, looking around with fury.
“I’m fine.” He pulled himself up with a snarl, batting my hand away. “I just tripped.”
I watched him for another beat, the skin glistened with sweat.
“Seriously. I just stumbled over the rug. Stop looking at me like that,” he growled.
“You fuckin’ scared me.” I patted my chest, still inspecting him closely. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah.” He brushed off a piece of bacon on his leg, leaning back against a cupboard, his jaw gritting. Anger fumed off him. “Like I said, I tripped. No big deal.”
Warning bells went off in my gut, but I shoved them back down, along with everything else. We didn’t do serious or deep. We teased and kept things light.
“Well,” I huffed, sitting back on my heels. “Do you know the penalty for wasting bacon…it’s a serious crime.”
“As if you wouldn’t eat it straight off the floor.”
“Not off the floor.” I smirked, grabbing a piece attached to his shirt and stuffing it into my mouth. “I have standards.”
He snorted and shook his head.
“You have to take me to breakfast now.” The statement fell off my lips before my mind caught up. Wait, I wanted to get away from him, not spend more time.
“Take you to breakfast?” His eyebrow went up. “In public?”
We had never done that, not when everyone would know we’d just spent the night together. The intensity of our relationship stayed secret, behind closed doors, only the two of us knowing how much time we spent together. And possibly the neighbors. The only public place we went together was with the group or to a few supercross events, but we never acted like we were together.
I had no idea where my comment came from.
“Bacon sacrificed itself in vain. Our only duty is to remedy that.” I knew that all the food he had was on the floor now.
His lips tugged down, my stomach twisting at his hesitation.
Stupid, Stevie. Why did you say that?
He grabbed on to the counter pulling himself up slowly. “Uhhhhh.”
“Never mind.” I darted to my feet, brushing of pieces of food from my legs. “Totally joking.”
“It’s just… I can’t.” He leaned into the counter, his lids squeezing briefly together. “Actually, I have a lot to do today.”
“Yeah, me too. I totally should get going.” I stepped back, tripping over a pan. I bent over, using it to scoop up some of the fried egg.
“Just leave it.” He waved his hand at the mess. “I’ll get it.”
“Okay.” I set it on the table, walking backward. “Guess I’ll see you later.”
“Sure,” he replied, but it sounded hollow of truth.
Grabbing my bag and shoes, I stepped into the stormy afternoon. The clouds rolled with unreleased rain like an upset stomach, the heat as smothering as wool.
I reached the parking lot when I realized I’d driven Chris’s car back here last night. I quickly nipped in the ass the impulse to go back and demand he take me home. I called for an Uber, strolling to the street.
Just as I climbed into the back of my ride, I saw Chris’s orange muscle car screech from the parking lot, gunning down the road.
“Where to, Miss?” the driver asked me.
I bit my address back between my lips. “Follow that car,” I said instead.
A need to see where he was going pecked at me like a bird. Detective mode switched on.
If only this were the Scooby van.
“Go! Go! Go!” I screamed at the man, poking my head fully through the two seats.
“Miss, will you please sit back? I’ve already asked you three times.”
“How about you sit back here, and I drive?” I motioned out the window, fat raindrops splattering down on the window shield. “Goooo!” I hinged forward, as though I could propel us through the intersection more quickly. My gaze latched on to the blurry orange vehicle racing through the green light, adding more and more distance between us.
“Hoke.” I gripped the passenger headrest, channeling Driving Miss Daisy, a movie that had bored the bejesus out of me but seemed fitting right now since he drove as slow as the Morgan Freeman’s character.
“My name’s Paul.”
“Hoke… Do I look like a Daisy to you?” I motioned to myself, raising my eyebrows.
“Uhhh.”
“No. The answer is no, Hoke.” I shook my head. “So stop driving as if I’m Miss Daisy. Haven’t you ever imagined yourself in one of those high-chase movie scenes?”
“I have all five stars in safety and navigation,” he replied, his eyes flicking back to me. “Miss, can you please sit back?”
Ignoring him, I let out a strangled cry, watching Tarzan’s car fly around a corner like he was on Dukes of Hazzard, while I was stuck in a vehicle that went slower than the Flintstones’ car. Which I felt sure went faster than this.
The blinker ticked in my ear, the windshield wipers lazily wiping away the rain. Everything in this car was set on turtle mode and my leg was dancing like a rabbit.
Our car turned the corner, and I squinted through the rain, spotting the orange machine speeding through a yellow light.
“Goooooooooooooo! Go. Go. Go.” I rammed at the passenger seat, my foot slamming into the floor at the invisible gas pedal. “Move it! You can make it!”
My driver slowed, crawling to a stop at the light a few seconds before it turned red.
“Seriously!” I wailed. “You could have totally made that.”
“Miss, for the last time. Sit back and buckle in or I’m dropping you off here.”
Ch
ris’s car moved quickly down the street, the rain and other cars camouflaging it until it fully disappeared.
Dammit. Where was he going? Where did he need to go in such a hurry?
The hospital is that way, my subconscious whispered.
“Miss!”
I huffed, falling back in my seat, my arms folded.
“You know, Hoke, you make a shitty spy. You are no longer under consideration for my getaway car.”
“Somehow I will learn to live with it.” He kneaded his brow.
“Now you’ve also been cut from the Scooby team.”
Chapter Fifteen
I was pretty sure I was permanently banned from Uber.
Whatever.
Mr. Sloth Driver made it clear I was put on his do-not-pick up list. The way he drove, I could walk there faster, and that was coming from someone who would drive to the market a block away.
My mood darkened when I saw Della’s car in the drive. I did not consume enough coffee this morning to deal with this day, and being denied bacon would send anyone into a murderous rage. I could not be held responsible for my actions.
“More coffee, Joyce.” My shoulders tensed at her rude demand of my mother. Slipping off my shoes, I could hear my mom get up and rush to the kitchen to do her bidding. “I’m sorry, but I can’t believe you let Stevie hang out with the Holloway girl. Bless Amy and Noah’s heart, but clearly they gave their daughter too much liberty. She was such a good girl before the accident. Polite. Did what she was told. Now? If Jaymerson is able to live in sin with the twin of her ex-boyfriend?” A pause. “I can only imagine how wild Reece will grow up. I mean, what hope does she have if that’s her moral guide? Their grandmother, Penny, is no better, running around like she does…jumping out of planes and traveling alone at her age.”
Rage filled my head. My fingers rolled into fists, nails digging into my palms. No one, I mean no one, talked shit about Whiskey. Nor would I stand for gossip about Hunter, or any of the Holloway family; they were the best people I knew.
Barreling for the family/kitchen area, my mom’s voice stopped me in my tracks.
“Jaymerson is nothing but lovely every time she comes here, Della. She’s a sweet, incredibly smart, caring girl. She’s brought out the best in my Stevie. The whole Holloway family seems very nice.”
“Please. They let their daughter live with that Harris boy. Unwed! It’s wrong. I wouldn’t even support something like that if she’d done it with the respectable twin, not unless they were engaged, which I bet he would have done. He was raised right. Bless his heart. He should have been the one who lived. Colton had so much potential. What a good-looking, polite, amazing young man he was. I find it disgusting she is with the brother. Completely disrespectable to Colton’s memory. Can you imagine what he would think? I’m sure he is rolling in his grave.”
Oh. Hell. No.
Mom spotted me first, her eyes widening with horror as I stomped into the room.
“First of all, Dell-a,” I snarled, flipping my tangled hair over my shoulder as if I were prepping to take her down. Normally, I’d find it too much work, but for this uptight bitch, I’d gladly do it. “If I ever hear you talk shit about my best friends or anyone related to them again, I will show you what ‘rolling in a grave’ actually means.”
Her mouth parted. She shot a dismayed expression at my mom, then back to me. “Are you threat—”
“I think it’s better if you shut up.” I walked toward her until all that stood between us was the table. She stared up at me with horror. Della was a few inches shorter than me and almost as round as she was tall. “Southern-fried curves,” she liked to put it. “Second of all, you have no idea who Hunter, Jaymerson, and Colton really are. What pain and horrors they went through. All you have to worry about is spreading gossip, because your kids moved as far as they could from you. Gossip isn’t fact, Della. So, before you open your fat mouth again insulting the best people I know, with Penny being at the top of that list. Or treating my mother like a servant in her own home, Ursula—” And damn if she didn’t look like the evil queen in Little Mermaid. “You’d better be ready to deal with me. I don’t take kindly to my friends being insulted in my house, by a woman whose joy is putting people so far beneath her.”
“H-how dare you!” She stood, slamming her hands on the table. “Joyce, are you going to let your daughter speak to me like that? A guest?”
The way she stressed “your daughter,” I had no doubt how she really felt about me.
“Stevie,” Mom said my name softly, her expression pained. What hurt most was my mom used to be the person who would be putting Della in her place. What happened to that woman? “Della…”
“Joyce!” Della said in a tone of shock, as though she couldn’t imagine why my mother didn’t take a belt to me. “I can’t believe you! After all I’ve done for you.”
“What have you done except treat my mom like shit and make her feel awful about herself, stripping her of anything that used to be unique, making her another sheep in your herd?”
Della’s eyes flashed with indignation. She rose to her full height, which was not very impressive. “Out of the goodness of my heart, I befriended your mother. No one else was willing when she had a whore for a daughter. Do you know how many times I’ve had to defend her when my own friends reminded me of your conduct with both men and…women? So vile. Even speaking of it now is revolting. You are a degenerate.” She snarled, practically spitting on my feet. “Beyond perverted and immoral. You should be locked away. It’s against nature.”
“Della!” My mom’s voice boomed through the room, silencing both of us. We swung to look at her. I hadn’t heard her use that commanding tone since I was a little girl. She moved to the table, her lids narrowed. “No one speaks about my daughter that way. Ever. It’s time for you to leave.” Her tone was smooth as silk, but rage vibrated underneath. It was the voice she used on me when I was in trouble.
Della’s mouth fell open, her head snapping back between us. “Gladly.” She sniffed and poked her chin up in the air. “And forget about the job at the salon. Margie only hires people with morals. Good, decent people.”
“Guess that excludes you too.” I folded my arms, glaring at her.
“This is actually a relief.” She snatched up her bag. “You know what all my real friends called you? My charity case. I opened my heart and home, but I guess some are past salvation.” Her glare moved from my mom to me before she stomped for the door.
“Oh, and Ursula…” I followed her, mimicking her deep southern drawl. “Your hairdo? You’d fit in well with all those depraved women I hang out with in New York.” No one I knew had that dated haircut, but I knew it would needle at her. “Bless your heart…I love how you don’t care what people think. Good on ya.” I grinned as I watched her jaw click together, her cheeks turning scarlet, feeling every syllable of my thinly veiled insult and insinuation before I slammed the door.
“Good riddance,” I muttered under my breath, relieved that woman was gone from this house. Turning back for the living room, I halted at the doorway. Mom sat in a chair, her head bowed, sobbing.
Guilt rushed over me. I had just behaved in my usual hotheaded way without thinking about my mom’s feelings in this. Maybe she really liked Della. Now she didn’t have anyone, not that Della really counted as someone, but she would make sure the whole chatty village would not be kind to my mom now.
“Mom…” I whispered, rushing over to her. I lowered myself down in front of her. “I’m so sorry. Shit…that was so incredibly selfish. I’m so sorry. You know me. I don’t think before I act. I know that’s no excuse. I’ll apologize to her. Please don’t cry.”
Mom shook her head, her tear-streaked face lifting to mine. “No, you don’t—” She inhaled deeply, as though trying to calm herself down. “Understand.”
Seeing my mom crying tore me apart. Now I’d promise her anything to get her to stop. To smile.
“I’ll go over right now. I’l
l make it better.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“But?”
“That’s not why I’m crying, Stevie.” She cupped my cheek. “You are impulsive, passionate, and stubborn. Everything I love about you, and sometimes hate…”
My lips turned down, but she clasped my other cheek.
“It was the exact reason your father said he fell in love with me. That’s why he knew the two women he loved more than anything would always butt heads. I say I hate, not because of you, but because of me. I hate I lost those qualities, and I let that woman slip away when your father died.” She gulped, taking in a shaky breath. “Seeing my own daughter stand up for me, I feel ashamed. Embarrassed. How did I become so weak?”
“You’re not weak.”
“Yes, I am. I allowed myself to be. Your father would be heartbroken if he saw me now and how I let Della treat me that way. Speak to you like that…” My mom’s eyes widened, going wild. “You know you are none of those things she said. You are beautiful and wonderful in every way, and I couldn’t be prouder of you.”
Tears lanced the back of my throat and lids, and I looked away.
“Look at me, Stevie.” She tugged on my chin until I looked at her. “I love you so much. Della wouldn’t know love if it bit her in the ass. Your heart is so big it doesn’t see sexes or labels. You just love.”
She was wrong, though. I didn’t love. I had sex. My heart was dead.
“I know that look. You don’t believe me. You may not see it yet, and I know losing your father really shut you down, but I see it. You’re so brave, you just need to take a chance again. You don’t love small; you love with everything you have.”
Which was why love wholly demolished me.
“Thank you, Stevie.” She slid her hand over my hair. “For standing up for me. For your friends. You are so strong and brave. I stood there watching the two of you, hearing you, and it was like someone snapped me awake after years of being asleep.”
Twisted Love (Blinded Love Series Book 3) Page 13