Sparks Fly (Davis Brothers Book 1)

by Nicole Douglas

  “Yeah. For sure.” I didn’t even realize he had been thinking about treatment. He never mentioned his drug use again after that night on the beach. He must have thought about what we talked about though, unbeknownst to me. “I’m really proud of you.”

  “I already packed so I’m all ready to go.”

  He sounds nervous. Nervous yet eager to accept his faults and get help. He wants to be better and change his life and I meant what I said. I was so proud of him.

  I help him load his bags in the backseat of my car. He asks if his car can stay parked next to mine in the lot until he gets back and I agree. He isn’t sure how long he will be there. They told him it’s based on each person’s needs and it could take anywhere from one month to six months.

  Not knowing makes me uneasy but I don’t show it. I want him to make it through but I know he gets antsy and flighty after too long of waiting for anything.

  Six month seems like a stretch for his patience. But he seems serious about this and I hope that means he will stay however long he needs to cleanse his body and more importantly his mind of the drugs and cravings.

  We talk for the full hour drive and I get the sense that Chris needs to fill the silence to occupy his mind.

  We joke. We laugh. We talk about everything except where he’s going and why.

  When we get to the Westwood area he types the address of the facility into my GPS. We’re only a few minutes away when we plug in the address and we quietly finish the drive. I park the car in front of the office for the treatment center. It looks pretty nice with manicured hedges and sleek styled buildings behind it.

  I feel good about dropping my brother off here.

  I get out of the car with him and help by pulling one of his bags from the backseat. He grabs the backpack and swings it over his shoulder. Before he has a chance to walk inside and check himself in I pull him in for a hug.

  “I really am proud you decided to come here.”

  “Thanks, bro. I want to be someone I can be proud of. I’ve never felt that way and I think maybe I can if I get through this program.”

  “You will.”

  “I won’t be able to call for a while. You earn phone privileges after you get through part of the program. But I’m adding you to my call list and my visitor list if I get one.”

  “Ok. I’ll be waiting for a call. I love you.”

  “I love you too, Max. Thanks for the ride.” He sounds choked up but when he pulls back from our hug his eyes are clear.

  We didn’t profess our love to each other very often. We just weren’t that kind of family. But this moment certainly called for it and it was about time we broke our family dynamic anyways.

  Our emotional goodbye ends as he grabs his duffle bag from my hands and heads inside the office. I wait for the door to shut behind him, cutting him off from my view, before getting back in my car.

  I fight the urge to go inside after him and screen the place more. He chose this facility himself and I have to trust his judgment.

  I wake in a cold sweat, jerked awake from my nightmare the moment Mom’s terrified face morphs into Lacey’s as it drifts further beneath the water until she disappears. I hadn’t had a nightmare in so long and I wasn’t expecting one tonight. Worrying too much must have triggered it, sending my stress levels over the edge of what’s healthy.

  Lacey slept peacefully beside me, unaware of my panic and internal mayhem.

  I reach over to grab the glass of water on my bedside table and gulp it down. It’s only three thirty in the morning. There’s no way I’ll be getting back to sleep tonight after what my brain forced me to remember.

  I was eight years old again.

  Mom had finally had enough of Dad and the life he was pulling his family into and decided to go to the cops. She knew better, even back then, than to let him know her plans. So she waited until Friday when she knew he would be out late and loaded me and Chris in the backseat of her car.

  Just as we were all putting out seatbelts on, not quite sure at the time what Mom had planned, Dad’s car pulled back in the driveway behind us and effectively blocked us in.

  I’ll never forget the look of sheer terror in her eyes as they looked back at us from the rear view mirror as he stormed out of his car and yanked her door open.

  The fact that he didn’t just hit her while he had her in his clutches was more terrifying than anything. He clearly had something else, something much worse, in store for her.

  My young mind hadn’t realized that at the time. But Mom must have realized it. Her face paled at the false niceness in his voice as he instructed us to all get in his car, stating we were going for a little family outing.

  We never saw Mom again after that family outing. Never saw her again because our dad killed her. And the trauma of it all gave me nightmares for life. I suspected Chris turned to drugs to forget.

  I wish like hell something could make me forget it too.

  Lacey stirs awake from my tossing and turning. She reaches out to rub my arm soothingly. “What’s wrong? Why are you up?”

  “Had a nightmare.”

  “About what?”

  I decide it’s time to tell her about my Mom, the one last secret I’ve held close to my chest.

  “About my mom….About the day she died.” She wakes more fully at my admission and I sense I have her undivided attention. I continue. “My dad drowned her. She tried to go to the cops and get us boys out of that house. But he caught her. It was late at night but he took us on a family boat trip.” The words taste like acid. “I should’ve known that wasn’t why we got on the damn boat. When did we ever do a family anything? I knew something was wrong because my mom was crying. She was trying to hide it but…I could still see it.”

  She remains quiet, albeit supportive with her soothing touches, letting me finish my story uninterrupted. If she has any questions I’m grateful as fuck she’s saving them for the end because I can’t stop right now. The words flow from me, the first time I’ve ever spoken them, and it’s therapeutic to let this out.

  “He took us so far from shore that no one could hear our screams. So far that no one would find her body.”

  My voice cracks and I take a deep breath to calm my nerves so I can finish. I’ve bottled up what happened for thirteen years and it was overflowing like lava when the pressure blows off the peak of a volcano.

  “He beat the shit out of her while Chris and I sat there on the bench seats. I was eight…I was so scared. So scared of him. I’m still fucking scared of him.”

  Hot tears streak my cheeks and I’m beyond glad the room is pitch black, preventing Lacey from seeing. I’m sure she knows that’s why I’ve paused my story but she quietly waits for me to regain composure.

  “He tied concrete blocks to her legs and at that point she could barely move. She was begging him…begging him not to kill her in front of us. She didn’t want us to see that. And he smiled. He fucking smiled Lacey and he shoved her over the side of the boat into the water.”

  “Oh, Max.”

  She wraps her arms around me in the dark bed and pulls me close. She strokes my hair and doesn’t press me for more details. I don’t think I can talk without getting choked up more than I already have.

  That was enough for one night.

  After Chris and I stared over the edge of the boat crying and screaming hysterically Dad looked at us and warned us if we ever spoke of Mom again we would end up in the same place as her.

  The bottom of the sea.

  Chapter 29

  Lacey

  It’s been weeks since Chris went to the Westwood Treatment Center and Max was worried like a mother hen. He hasn’t heard from him or any of the counselors there.

  Chris had warned him that would happen but it didn’t stop him from wondering how the treatment was going. Worrying that Chris was detoxing. Worrying that he might leave early.

  He even spent one morning worrying that he might not have coffee at the facility since it’s a stimu
lant and how bad that would upset him. It was getting a little out of hand.

  “What if he leaves before he finishes the program Lacey?” He asks one day while we both sit on opposite ends of his couch, our legs draped over each others’ in the middle. We’ve been studying for hours, periodically interrupted with Max’s straying thoughts.

  “He’s going to finish. Have faith in him.” I reassure him. “He checked himself in. You didn’t force him to go. That means he knows he needs help. He’ll do the right thing.”

  “Yeah. You’re right.”

  “I know. I’ve been right the last ten times but you’re still worrying about it.”

  He nudges my leg with his playfully. “You’re right about that too. I can’t help it.”

  I drop my textbook to the floor next to my pile of notebooks, highlighters and loose notes.

  “Come on. Let’s go somewhere fun.”

  “Fun?”

  “Yes, fun. Remember that thing some people do when they aren’t busy worrying all day and night?”

  I stand up and take his textbook from his lap, tossing it on top of mine with a thud. I end up dragging him from the apartment and drive to town as he mumbles about studying in the passenger seat.

  I don’t really have a destination in mind when we leave but we end up at the outdoor mall. There’s bound to be something to do since on the weekends they have live bands on the grassy lawn and activities spread out most days.

  After walking down the sidewalk in front of various stores I see a sign for a painting class. I can’t paint worth a shit but I bounce up and down in excitement that I found something the two of us can do and drag him in to sign up.

  The next couple’s class starts in twenty minutes so we decide to wait around. We apron up and browse the wall of paintings looking for something we might like to do.

  Max is being very quiet and I know he’s still thinking about Chris.

  I feel closer to him than ever before after he opened up about his mom. He trusted me with such a dark and tragic memory, a tortured piece of himself. It’s was now up to me to cheer him up today and lift some of the heaviness from his shoulders.

  He deserved to have fun without anything looming over his head tonight.

  “I like this one.” He points to a beach scene with stars sprinkled across the top of the canvas. Purples and blues and grays blend together beautifully to create the sky, the sea and the sand.

  For a moment I worry he likes it because it hurts to see the beach and remember what happened to his mom. I sometimes wonder if he enjoys the pain. Relishes in it as some form of self punishment.

  He must see the sadness in my expression because he leans in close and whispers against my ear. “This painting reminds me of the night we met. The night you stripped down and jumped in the water and I couldn’t help but follow you.”

  I smile at the memory and reach for the painting card. “Let’s do this one then. We can write down the request on the sign-up sheet.”

  And so that’s what we do.

  We paint the beach scene with the guidance of the painting instructor. Our canvases are side by side and blend together to compose the complete picture. He gets the left half and I get the right.

  Each painting is uniquely ours, with different brushstrokes and different blends of the colors. Max is heavy on the dark blues while my side contains more purple. But it doesn’t look bad. It comes together to form the big picture, blending together side by side with stars speckling across the canvas with consistency.

  We leave the painting class with smiles of contentment, our canvases in hand and hearts full of tranquility.

  Max walks back into the kitchen from the bedroom. He had shut himself in there after getting a call from an unknown number.

  “That was Chris.” He comes up behind me as I stir the spaghetti noodles and wraps his arms around my waist. “He said he’s doing great. Plans on staying at least another month. Maybe longer.”

  “That’s great.” I say.

  And I mean it. I may not have let on to Max, not wanting to increase his anxiety, but I was getting worried too after a month of silence. I give him a quick kiss and turn back to the bubbling spaghetti sauce and crackling hamburger meat in the skillet.

  He opens the cabinets and takes out two plates, two glasses and two sets of silverware, jumping right in to help me set the table while I finish making dinner.

  “I decided to go to the cops.”

  “What?” I turn from my task in surprise at his admission. “Are you sure?”

  I hate to think about what his dad did to his mom when she decided to do the same. To think about Max in that kind of danger, volunteering himself to be at risk to stop his father’s crimes, made my stomach drop in fear.

  “I’m sure. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now.”

  He sounds sure. He sounds at peace with his decision. Maybe he told Chris about it on the phone when they spoke and his brother gave him the assurance he needed to go for it. That it was the right thing to do.

  “Wow. Okay. When?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Wow.” I repeat.

  My tone is laced with unease. I don’t want to discourage him from his brave decision. He needs to do this to move on. But I still can’t help but think about the boat trip he told me about and how Brad ended his mother’s life with so little regard.

  “Don’t worry, Lace. I’ll be fine.” He doesn’t sound fully convinced but I can see he’s determined to go through with his decision regardless. “I can’t keep living in fear of what he might do. I can’t keep letting him control my life.”

  “I know.” I rub his back.

  “And I’m not going to let him hurt you. The fact that he even hinted at it…he has to be stopped. I can ruin him. I can take him down if I tell them what I know.”

  “What if he finds out what you did before they arrest him?” I ask. “What if they don’t arrest him?”

  “They will. Trust me. I know too much for them to let it go. And if he finds out before, I’ll deal with it. It’s worth the risk.”

  I drain the meat in the sink and mix the sauce in the skillet when I’m satisfied that most of the grease is out. Next I fill each of our plates with a mountain of noodles and pour the sauce over the tops. I slide a plate in front of him and sit at his side, savoring the closeness of our arms brushing as we take our first bites.

  “You know it’s none of my business what you do…”

  “Everything about me is your business.”

  He smiles slightly but goes on uninterrupted. “But I think you should press charges on David.”

  I take a bite of spaghetti and savor the garlic and tomato flavors swirling on my taste buds. I give myself the time to think about what he wants from me. If he’s brave enough to report his father shouldn’t I be brave enough to press charges on David?

  He had nothing on Brad in terms of sadistic threats.

  But still…I was afraid of him.

  “I don’t know…”

  “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to. You know that.” He says. “But I think it would make you feel good. Regain some control he stole from you. That’s how I felt after I decided to report my dad.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  He nods meaningfully. “Okay.”

  And we finish our dinner quietly, both thinking about what we know we need to do.

  “You know what else I’ve been thinking?” He asks as we wash and dry our dishes side by side.

  “What?”

  “I’ve been thinking maybe you should move in.”

  “Here?”

  He laughs at my confusion and surprise. “Yes, here. Move in with me Lace.”

  I’m overwhelmed with happiness at his invitation. Still, I have to make sure he means it.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes I’m sure. You stay here every night already. You basically already live here.”

  I throw my arms around his neck and kiss
him with reckless abandon. Soapy suds drip from my hands down the back of his shirt but he doesn’t seem to care. He kisses me back and grips my hips, dropping the soaked towel he was using to dry dishes on the floor at our feet.

  “Ok. I’ll move in with you.” I whisper against his lips.

  He grins widely and pulls me back in for another kiss, nipping at my bottom lip playfully.

  “Let’s go get your stuff.”

  “Right now?”

  “Yeah. I don’t want to spend one more day with you living anywhere else. I want you here with me. Officially.”

  ✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

  Despite Max’s eagerness to move me into his apartment in one night it actually took us two to get all my stuff. I had a lot of clothes. And shoes. And decorative items scattered around.

  We eventually got it all packed in his car over several trips back and forth.

  I was ecstatic to be here. That he wanted me here every day and every night. He was right that I basically lived here already. Half my shit was already at his place and I was here every night.

  But it felt so good for him to tell me it was what he wanted. That he thought about it and wanted to make it official instead of dancing around the subject.

  Boxes still scattered his living room and I planned to spend all day unpacking. I already filled my half of his closet with my clothes and shoes.

  It feels nice to settle in. Even nicer to catch the hidden smiles when he doesn’t think I’m looking as I open a new box, placing my things around his apartment and filling it with hints of my presence.

  I spread my rug out across his living room floor, adding a hint of color to the room in front of his couch. My corner lamp is placed next to the couch, sending a soft glow of light for us to do our schoolwork late at night.

  Our belongings become interwoven by the time I’m done.

  His and mine become ours.

  What Max said has weighed heavily on my mind. It was the right thing to do to report David and what he had done to me to the police. He may not have harassed me since the event but what if he did the same thing to another girl?