I mindlessly bite my thumbnail as my thoughts linger on Bethany.
Heartache I wish I no longer felt glides over my cheek, moving slowly over my lips.
Why wasn’t I good enough?
Why wasn’t I loveable?
I wipe at my face when I hear the water shut off behind me, and moments later, I smell hotel soap mingled with forest green. I turn back to see Bryce walk out in black jeans and no shirt. His skin is a shade paler, but damn if his body doesn’t look even leaner, and I see he got a new tattoo going up his ribcage.
Must have been during our time apart. He takes a seat on the bed and rests his elbows on his knees before turning his head toward me.
Good Lord.
I jump up. “What the hell happened?”
He sits up straight as I grip his chin and look over his bruised eye. It’s not bad, but it’s bad enough. His lip is busted, too. He woke up before me this morning and was in the shower before I ever saw him.
“I got into a little fight last night. Nothing serious.”
I shake my head at my bad boy.
“Why did you get into a fight?”
He shrugs. “It just happened, baby.”
“It just happened, baby,” I mock him and drop his chin. “All this shit we have going on and you leave me to go get into a bar fight?”
“It wasn’t like that. I didn’t plan to fight.”
I roll my eyes. God, he’s gorgeous, in the roughest of ways. He makes my skin hot and my insides hotter. I need to get out of this damn town, get away from all these fucked-up memories so I can get back to normal.
I need him.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, tiredness brimming his blues.
“I could ask you the same.”
“You kill me.” His voice is rough, like waking up from a long sleep and still being exhausted. I stare too long at his lips, unable to help myself when it comes to this man.
The thrill of being alone with him sends a rush through my blood. I honestly don’t know if there is an us anymore.
“And you’re beautiful,” I say.
He shakes his head and runs a hand over his hair. I smile, because I’ve made him uneasy.
“You got a new tattoo.”
He looks down at it. “Yeah.” It’s the Mad Hatter’s hat with the saying We’re All Mad Here.
It’s sick and I wonder if he’s going to get color put in it, but I don’t feel like talking about tattoos right now.
Stepping closer to uneasy and too good to be true, I reach and run my own fingers over his short hair. His eyes close and he grabs my hips, pulling me closer and resting his forehead against my belly.
His hands move from my hips, dropping down and lifting his shirt. Lips kiss the skin on my stomach and rough hands run over my backside.
“Damn, I love you,” he whispers.
I stand here, glued together glass, loving a man who’s just as scarred. Our past has made us who we are, and when we think of love, we think of pain.
He’s seen how too much of it can destroy a person, and I’ve felt how too little of it can constantly make you question if you’re good enough.
He’s made me see different.
I’ve made him face his fears.
Maybe together we’ll be okay.
Maybe we’ll tear each other to shreds and be worse for it.
But God, I hope it’s the former.
__________
I sit with my legs in the seat of his car, sucking down an orange soda while Bryce eats the rest of his food.
His black hoodie covers skin I want to feel, and his five o’clock shadow is fierce against his pale complexion.
Summer has gone and so have tans and less clothes.
“I can’t believe you ate there as a boy,” I say as we sit in the parking lot of a fast-food joint. Neither of us wanted to eat at the diner, deciding memory lane was beginning to be too much for us both. Plus, I’d already done that and it was too surreal. “Just think, only a few years later, I started working there.”
“I wish I would have known you then,” he says.
“I didn’t have time for friends, much less bad boys.” I grin.
“Yeah, well, I’m glad,” he says, darkness lining his rich tone.
I laugh.
We sit quietly before he balls up his trash and tosses it into the bag on my side.
He wipes his lap off and looks over at me. “I know this isn’t easy for you. All this,” he says, waving his hand, “but I’d like to go back to that house if that’s okay?”
I suck on my button lip and swallow. Man, I don’t want to go back there, but this isn’t just about me. Bryce has been through it, too, and my old home was the place he left before his dad died.
I nod. “Okay.”
Chapter Twelve
Bryce
Baby’s quiet as we head to the house she only remembers as a nightmare. It’s not the same for me, though. It’s a place that connects me to my father. The last place, that it was just he and I, before he got out and retrieved my mom. Jace was there, too, but he wasn’t conscious. Car sleeping and dreaming kid dreams.
I remember talking to my dad on the way here about Mama. I remember the whiskey bottle in the door and the worry on his face.
I miss my dad.
Regardless of the way he was, he tried to be better for us. He really did.
But at some point, you are who you are. And he was a man sick in love.
I reach over as we cross the county line and grab K’s hand. I need her touch right now. I need to know she’s got me as much as I’ve got her.
I need her to tell me she loves me.
I need a lot of things from this woman, but I’ll ask for none of it. I want only what she decides to give.
She squeezes my fingers, giving me a piece of what I need. We continue down the road until a shack comes into view.
A dam opens and memories flood.
Everything about this place is the same, but worse. I pull into the drive, taking in the fallen porch and the door my dad came through with my mom over his shoulder.
I look at the chipped paint and dirty windows.
I see her window and my chest caves.
“I remember seeing you sitting in your dad’s car,” she says pensively.
I look back at her, my hand still in hers. “I remember you, too.” We sit in the driveway for a moment, reflecting on our own heartbreaks and crippling past.
Splinters of light shine through the clouds, warming the fields and melting yesterday’s snow. With a heavy sigh, I climb out of the car.
I need to go inside.
I pass over the treacherous porch and through the worn door. The smell of mold and something I can’t pinpoint overwhelms my senses. I bring my hand to my nose, licking my busted lip as I walk through the house. K didn’t follow me, and I didn’t ask her to.
The kitchen is a mess. The floor is peeling upward and there’s a leak coming in from the roof with a bowl catching the fall.
Jesus, how did anyone live here? I scrub up my face and exhale. I try to picture what it was like when my mom used to come here.
I’m sure everything wasn’t this bad. Time has surely taken a toll on it all. But even so, I can’t see it ever being a warm home for K. Curiosity gets the best of me and I turn toward the hallway, walking back until I reach a door on the left side. It’s slightly open, so with a small push from my finger I open it all the way, revealing a girl’s bedroom.
A single bed rests against a wall, with sheets that might have been white at one time. Now they’re faded and have stains. I wonder if she’s seen this, but with the door being almost shut, I feel like she hasn’t.
No telling who slept here after she left.
Empty hangers rest in the closet and a dresser with drawers open stands against the wall.
She left it all. Cleaned out what she wanted and never looked back.
A sick feeling passes through me as I think about the
things she endured while staying here.
Did it happen in this bed? On this floor?
Nausea makes my mouth water and I leave the room, slamming the fucking door behind me. I walk through the kitchen, kicking the overflowing leak catcher as I go.
I’m in the living room when I spot something on a side table.
A lighter. Quickly, I grab it and flick it to see if it works. On the second try, a flame shoots up, making me smile.
I head out, careful on the porch before I make it back to the car. I open the door and lean down so I can see her.
She looks over at me with tired eyes. I know she’s ready to go. I know she’s ready to leave all this behind her. I reveal the lighter in my hand.
“You want to burn this motherfucker to the ground?”
Her eyes move from me to the lighter before bouncing back to my face.
And she smiles. “Absolutely.”
I grin back. “Let’s go get some fuel.”
*****
A rush of excitement fills the car as we head back to the broken-down house. We bought two gas cans. One for her and one for me. That house may have been the last place I talked one-on-one to my father, but it’s a place my mother chose over us, and it’s a place Kathrine was abused in.
I don’t want it standing any more than she does.
We couldn’t do anything about the man who lived there. God took care of that. But we can do something about the shell he did his dirty work in.
And we will.
As I pass the county line, my cell rings and I lift up and pull it from my front pocket.
Looking at the screen, I say, “It’s Mills, baby.”
Her brows lift and she gives me a small smile. “Answer it.”
I hit the green button. “Hello.”
“Bryce. Hey… I… um... is Kathrine there with you?” The poor man is nervous, and I don’t blame him. He’s gone his whole life living one way, having no idea he had a child this entire time.
Once he finds out what that child went through, it’s going to kill him inside because there’s nothing he can do about it. He’ll feel like I do, except in a different way, I imagine. Bethany would probably do better not to ever come around again. The fault is on her.
“Yeah. She’s right here,” I say before handing K the phone.
“Hey, Mills,” she says, unsure of herself. Like him, she’s in unknown territory. This is going to take time if either of them cares to do it.
But I could tell he did the moment he found out she was his.
“Yes. I’m still in town,” she says. “Bryce and I are actually headed to my old house. Where Saw lived.” She looks over at me, chewing her bottom lip before she says, “We’re going to set it on fire.”
My brows lift at the fact she told him that. I’m not sure what he says back, but she says, “Sure.” And then she rambles off the address before hanging up.
She puts the phone in the cup holder and looks out the window. “He’ll be here in a few.”
I slow the car as we near the house again. “He’s going to join us?” I ask.
She twists her head back to me. “He knows my life back then was no picnic. He deserves to have a part in this… him being my dad and all.”
I park the car and smile at her. “You amaze me, girl.” She returns my smile and I reach over and grab the back of her neck before kissing her forehead and then her lips.
“I love you.”
She looks at me and slightly shakes her head. I’m not sure if she believes that I really do love her, or she just can’t believe someone actually does.
Either option breaks my fucking heart, and I swear I’ll make her feel my love every day from here on out. Until she knows it deep in her soul.
“Say it back,” I tell her. “Just once say it back to me.” I changed my mind. I need her to say it more than I’m willing to wait for her to be ready.
She folds her lips in, about to say something, but then we hear a truck flying down the road. I curse under my breath but open the car door. She repeats this action as Mills turns into the drive and parks his two-door truck. I grab the gas cans and hand one to her.
“Ready?” I ask.
“Yes.” She takes it from me as Mills walks up. “Sorry to keep you two waiting. I got here as fast as I could.”
“We heard,” Kat says playfully, like this is a lighthearted moment and we’re not about to burn a house down, which could put us all in jail.
He smiles at his kid. “Well, let’s do this.”
We all make our way up the steps and walk into the house. Kat goes to the back first and I follow her. Mills stays in the living room, looking at everything like I did. He’s probably mentally shooting Saw in the head, like I’ve pictured myself doing a million times over.
With the gas can in her hand, Kat pushes open a door I didn’t in the very back of the house. She walks in like she owns the goddamn place and starts pouring gasoline over a dresser before she goes to the bed.
“Don’t get it on you,” I tell her. She listens without responding and walks to what I assume is a bathroom, splashing gas onto the sink and countertop.
She moves past me, clearly on a mission. Her bedroom is next, and with pure determination, she smothers the room in fuel. Gas consumes the smell of mold and a dirty past.
My girl is fierce in her task of drenching this place and burning it to the ground. I’m in awe of her. She came from this. She lived here with that son of a bitch. I wish he were here so I could cut his dick off and shove it down his throat.
Abruptly, she stops what she’s doing and looks out the window of her old bedroom. Her ponytail is falling and her eyes look wild. She breathes heavily with a white-knuckle grip on the gas can. Her eyes move from the window to the single bed she’s soaked.
I notice the slight shake in her hand, and I see it when her grip loosens. The can falls to the floor. A sound comes from her throat, laced with agony as her hand goes over her mouth.
I don’t rush to comfort her.
I don’t say a word.
I was right earlier when I thought she hadn’t been in this room, and from her reaction, the scabs of her past have been ripped off, freely bleeding again.
I can’t imagine what happened in this room, because it kills me. I won’t allow my mind to fully go there.
But she knows.
She lived it.
And now she’s reliving it.
She drops her hands to her sides, forming fists. She turns, looking at me.
Rage, pure and hot, burns in silver-blue. The emotion dilates her pupils and tightens her jaw. A vein twitches in her pretty neck and her lips are line straight. I know this emotion all too well.
I step out of the way when she shoots past me, leaving the gas container resting on the floor.
I go after her, needing to see what she’s doing or thinking. Kat goes straight into the living room and we both find Mills leaning against the front door with his arms crossed over his chest.
He looks up at us, his eyes jumping from me to his kid. Kat doesn’t care about either one of us being here right now. She doesn’t care about anything as she walks to the recliner that’s beside the ratty couch. Leaning over, she grabs ahold of something.
The sunshine drifting in the window flashes against the aluminum. She holds the bat forcefully. After all these years she still knew where he kept it.
Without warning, Kat swings the bat with all her might. Mills sidesteps toward the side wall of the living room and I instinctively jump back as tiny speckles of glass dust the room.
She moves from the TV to the coffee table, shattering it into pieces, this time yelling as she does it.
“You sick motherfucker!” She splits boards and wrecks drywall. “This is for every single bruise you put on me, mentally and physically.” She demolishes the old stereo, bursting ceramic and plastic. I watch her wreak havoc on the house, spilling past secrets as she does. Telling us things we didn’t know. Breaking my fucking hea
rt one word at a time.
Mills doesn’t move but looks down, giving her privacy while being there for her at the same time. The windows are busted. Every piece of wood is broken and glass is everywhere as holes decorate the walls. Her breaths come out in rushes, her cheeks wet from tears. K drops the bat and wipes her face with the back of her hand.
“Give me the gas,” she says. I walk out of the hallway that was protecting me from flying particles and give her the tank.
“Y’all go out.”
“I’m not leaving you.” I slide my hand into my pocket, pull the lighter out, and toss it to her.
If she’s here, I’m here.
Her lips fold in as she tries to control the sadness leaking from her eyes. Everything inside of me wants to wrap her in my arms and hold on to her. But I don’t because I know that’s not what she wants. Kat doesn’t need to be coddled. That’s not who she is.
She nods and looks back at Mills.
“I’m with you, Kat,” he says, his voice filled with unshed emotion. A glimpse of lost time passes through her eyes as she looks at Mills. A flash of I’m sorry on her pretty face.
Like it’s her fault Bethany made shitty choices.
This time he nods, not in acceptance of her ridiculous apology, but in agreement.
He’s sorry, too.
She sniffs and wipes her face with the sleeve of her shirt. Her eyes dart around the room before landing on old mail. She pours gasoline onto the counter and walks over to the manila envelopes. Dropping the can, she flicks the lighter. Slowly, the ends of the paper start to burn. I hear the front door open and turn to see Mills holding the knob as he watches his kid.
She smirks and tosses the thing onto the counter. Blue-orange flames chase each other, and she looks back at me with raw emotions and the best one?
Satisfaction.
“Come on,” I say, lifting my hand to the side for her to grab it. She does and we follow Mills out of the house.
Smoke billows from its broken windows in a matter of minutes.
We watch it before moving the cars across the road, and even then we get out and stare at the burning house as it folds in on itself. I wrap my arm around Kat, and she leans into me, snaking her own arm across my waist.
Give Me Perfect Love (Give Me Series Book 2) Page 7