by J. M. Miller
I was speechless again, just like all the other times he’d brought up the future—or the past—over the last couple of weeks.
“Talk to me,” he pleaded in my ear.
A sharp ringtone cut through the still air, startling us. Damian dug into his pockets and pulled out his phone. Backing away from me, he slid his thumb across the screen and answered, “What’s up, Mom?”
I looked back at the house, relieved our conversation had been interrupted, but not thrilled our night was ending. As much as I wanted to ignore the future, I still wanted to spend every moment with him. I’d surrendered to my heart weeks ago by giving up the safety of distance and collecting every piece of time he had to give, despite the fear of it all ending in pain.
“Sorry. Yeah, I’m on my way.”
I turned to look at him. He slipped his phone back into his pocket and stepped in front of me.
“My mom spotted my car at the marina then noticed the boat was missing.”
“Is she pissed?”
“Yeah,” he said, pushing his fingers into my hair and smiling. “Definitely worth it, though.”
I laughed lightly. “Tell me that after she grounds you.”
“Still won’t matter,” he replied, leaning close to my ear. His lips skimmed over my cheek to my mouth. The delicate movement turned demanding, showing me what was on his mind.
Unfortunately, though, we had to leave. After a long, satisfying kiss, we packed up and went back to the dark deserted marina. When we finished securing the boat, we traveled up the dock and found a silver car parked beside Damian’s Lancer.
“Great,” he mumbled, adjusting his backpack. “Sorry, Syn. I wasn’t expecting her to wait.”
His mom didn’t know about us. She wasn’t exactly keen on him dating to begin with, especially people she didn’t know, so even though we were seeing more of each other, we’d decided to keep our relationship quiet.
So much for that.
He grabbed my hand and squeezed, then tapped his fingers on my skin. He was as nervous as I was.
The passenger side of his mom’s car opened first and a long-nosed guy jumped out. Most of his features weren’t distinguishable under the dim lights of the parking lot, but I really didn’t need to see them to know who he was. Seth. Damian’s mom also exited the car, watching us cross the parking lot. Her dark hair was twisted up in a bun and her tiny lips looked even more drawn than when we’d met at Rewind. Even the dim light couldn’t hide that scowl.
“Looks like you’ve been working hard this year, D,” Seth said, staring at me.
My skin crawled with the same rage I’d felt years ago. It didn’t matter that it was six years later—his first impression had left a mark that wasn’t easily forgotten. I squeezed Damian’s hand back, partly to stop his fingers from tapping, but mostly to stop myself from charging Seth in front of their mom.
“Seth,” Alexandria hushed him in a clipped tone. She stared pointedly at Damian. “You obviously didn’t have to work more hours at Rewind tonight.”
“No, I didn’t. Sorry,” Damian said as we took the last steps to the cars.
“So you lied to me about work, and then you took the boat without asking? It hasn’t even been on the water a full day, Damian.”
His hand tightened around mine again briefly. “The boat’s fine.”
“It definitely looks fine,” Seth chimed in, still staring at me as he leaned a hip against the car. More of him was visible now. His black hair was shaved low, no longer spiky. I could see the similarities in his and Damian’s wide jaws and short foreheads, but his lips were thin and small like his mom’s and his eyes were closer set.
Damian glared at Seth for a moment before turning to his mom again. “Mom, you remember Annisyn, right?”
“Hi, Mrs. Mead,” I murmured with a courteous smile, which she didn’t return.
“I’m going to drop Annisyn off and I’ll meet you at home,” Damian said, trying to save me from the situation.
“Apparently, we have a lot more to talk about than I thought,” she replied. “Like why you failed to mention you’ve slipped to a C in calculus.”
“Wait, wait. Annisyn Kane, right?” Seth blurted out, standing straight and pointing at me. “You’re the girl who played ball in the park. Syn, right? Holy shit. You’ve grown up.” His enthusiasm settled with the last words and his eyes made a round trip over my body.
I gripped Damian’s hand hard enough to make him flinch. Now that Seth knew who I was, I expected an onslaught of memories and insults. The thought of sticking around to hear it all made me want to puke.
Damian pulled me closer and put his arm around me. “Don’t be an ass.” His voice was stern, letting Seth know to back off.
“That’s your last name? Kane?” Alexandria asked, ignoring her sons. “Is Tyra Kane your mother?”
Her words sounded soft, but they were as heavy as bricks, crushing all my hope at anonymity. I froze, not wanting to confirm what she clearly knew. From what Damian said, she prided herself in knowing the ins and outs of the community—the people, the history, the news—so it made sense that she would know about my mom.
Damian glanced down at me under his arm, adding another set of eyes that awaited a reply. I took a deep breath. “Yes, Tyra Kane is my mom. She’s the manager at The Twisted Grape,” I said as calmly as I could while my insides twisted into knots.
Alexandria didn’t speak for a moment. Her stoic eyes held my gaze as she considered possible reactions. I hoped she’d take a polite route like most people had years ago, stifling their curiosity all together. The alternative would force me to rehash everything right then, right there. Either way, though, the past was coming out. It really didn’t matter what I wanted.
“Is it just you and your mom then?” she finally spoke.
“Yes, just us.”
“I do hope that she’s doing well. I’d imagine it could take years to recover emotionally after taking someone’s life.”
I wanted to believe the words were meant to be kind, but the tone was intentionally cold, like she was tossing me sympathy from the safety of her well-groomed life. My heart pounded up into my throat, but I choked it down and responded, “Yes, she’s fine now. Thanks.”
Damian moved his arm off my shoulder and turned, leaning closer to my ear. “Syn?” he whispered, confusion hanging on the word.
My stomach churned. I had to get away before I lost it. “My mom is probably expecting me, actually. I should get home.” I turned to Damian, begging him silently with my eyes. If he didn’t take me, I would surely run.
His brows knitted together and he nodded as he placed a hand on my back. “I’ll be home in a few,” he said to his mom, guiding me over to his car.
“Within a half hour, Damian. You still have school tomorrow,” his mom warned. “Goodnight Annisyn,” she added before getting into her car.
Damian helped me into the passenger side then walked to his door. After he got in, we watched silently as his mom and Seth pulled away. I dug my fingers into the rips of my jeans nervously, feeling his eyes return to me.
“Why wouldn’t you tell me?” he asked, reaching over and covering my jittery fingers. “I mean that’s a pretty big thing—”
“I don’t really like to talk about it. It happened a long time ago, okay? It’s not something anyone wants to talk about.”
“But if it’s a part of your life, I want to know. I want to know all about you.”
Tears filled my eyes. Fuck. I hated talking about it. It didn’t matter if the words were directed at a psychologist or the guy I was falling for. It pissed me off how much it hurt, how much it affected me. No one cared that he was dead—he was a piece of shit—but I still couldn’t get it out of my head. “It’s not the kind of news someone wants to share, Damian.” The words were clipped and harsh.
He didn’t flinch at my outburst, he just tightened his hand around mine. “Talk to me. When did it happen?”
I drew in a long shaky breath
, concentrating on Damian’s hand wrapped around mine as my vision tunneled on the dashboard. “I was six. This guy my mom was dating … John …” I closed my eyes tight after I said the name I hadn’t said in years. Images flashed behind my lids. I could see his angry blue eyes, replaced quickly with the startled version of them that appeared just before he took his final breath. “He wasn’t … good. He may have been at first, but I don’t really remember. I remember the fights. I remember playing makeup with my mom as she covered her black eyes, her bruised arms.”
Damian shifted in his seat to touch my arm with his other hand. The contact was comforting, but it couldn’t take away the memories. Nothing ever would.
I let the next round of tears go, not bothering to wipe them away. “John was a local floater. He bounced between jobs and between women. I think my mom had dated him about a month when the first punch came. I haven’t asked her to recall the things I can’t remember. I know we’d both rather forget.”
Damian’s fingers smoothed along my skin, tracing small circles so light I barely felt them. With a long blink, an image of the doorknob in my old bedroom appeared. I felt the familiar sweat form on my hands as I pictured them fumbling the knob, unable to open the door.
I cracked open my eyes and let out a long breath before continuing.
“I heard her screaming. I knew it was worse than before, but I couldn’t open my bedroom door,” I recounted, my heart picking up pace. “I have no idea how long I shook the knob. When it finally opened, I rushed down the stairs and into the kitchen. He had her p-pinned … and I screamed for her.” The memory choked me up. I paused for a moment, the images running through my mind. His eyes. The anger. “That’s when he turned on me. He hit me. I fell backward and slammed my head against the cabinet. Details are hazy after that. There was a lot of blood. A knife. Mom was taken away, but released not long after. She’d been smart enough to report his last attack. With that and other records, it was considered self-defense and mom was never charged.”
There it was. He knew everything I’d told the police, everything I’d told the therapist. He didn’t need to know the rest. How easily the kitchen knife had sliced into John’s body. How tacky his blood had felt when it coated my tiny hands and began to dry. How many seconds it had taken for the life to disappear from his eyes. How one choice had taken his life, and that I was the one who’d made it.
Telling him that truth wouldn’t make anything better.
I took another deep breath and kept my eyes forward, still trying to push the images from my mind.
“The door was locked,” he whispered.
“Yes,” I confirmed. “Or stuck.”
He let out a knowing sigh. “So you pick locks.” His right hand traveled up behind my neck, skimming the skin there lightly, just as he’d done to my arm. “And the knife.”
The knife …
“It’s the reason you carry,” he murmured, putting together some of the pieces of my broken life. “I’m so sorry.”
I nodded a little, still attempting to block the images. “I went to a therapist right away, but it wasn’t helping. When my mom signed up for self-defense classes, she let me go too. I started to feel better, in control. Those classes helped me more than anything else. People here sure as hell didn’t. They were so scared to talk about it that most didn’t bother talking at all. When I met Tanner and the other guys at River Park, I knew I’d found my place. None of them wanted to talk about it either, but at least they talked to me …and they didn’t mind a girl playing ball with them.” I finally gathered enough courage to look at him. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, but I honestly haven’t told anyone in a long time. I can’t even stand to think about it really. I hate what it does to me.”
His eyes were pensive after hearing my words. “You don’t have to be sorry.” He scrunched his lips together and glanced back toward his window. “I’m the one who’s sorry. Even though I’m glad that I know, I’m not sure why my mom would bring it up tonight.”
“Tonight, her nearly perfect son lied to her, took the boat without asking, and turned up with a less-than-reputable girl. She’s pissed.”
“I’m sure she’ll have more to say when I get home,” he said, shaking his head.
I was certain he was right. Before she’d even realized who I was, she blamed me. The thing was, she wasn’t wrong. I was the bad influence that made Damian reevaluate his life, reconsider his future.
“You’re definitely getting grounded now,” I said, forcing a tiny smile even though I felt sick.
“Yeah,” he agreed with a nod and a small smile of his own. “I’ll probably get tasked with more parts inventory and paperwork at the shop too, but I’ll still pick you up for school.” He leaned in closer and slipped a hand under my jaw. “I don’t care what happens. Tonight was worth it. Any time spent with you is. I hope you know that.”
I smiled the tiniest bit again and his thumb traced my bottom lip, catching the movement. A moment passed before his mouth replaced his thumb, taking my lips. It was a tender kiss, with a fair amount of pity. I never wanted pity from anyone. All I ever wanted was to keep the memories at bay. Over the last couple months, Damian had helped push them farther away. He’d made me feel normal, less damaged, so I wouldn’t challenge his pity. I’d gladly take anything he was willing to give me, for as long as he was willing to give.
Her screams pierced something deep within my soul. The visions were hazy, but I could see my hands shaking as they frantically pawed at the doorknob. When it finally opened, I ran to her voice. Mom’s voice. Blood appeared everywhere.
Somewhere inside, I knew it wasn’t real. It was just another dream.
The throbbing in my head woke me, turning my stomach, and I cringed.
“Syn? Can you hear me?”
My head rolled to the side, instantly protesting with angry pangs of pain. I tried to move my aching body, but my arms and legs wouldn’t move.
“Syn, wake up.”
Damian.
I cracked my eyes. I was still in his house, and we were still tied up.
“Yeah,” I croaked, dazed.
He butted his arm into mine and I lifted my head slowly in response, meeting his terrified eyes. “You should have warned me you were going to kick. I could’ve helped.”
I smiled despite the pain and looked down at my legs. Only one hurt, but it was nowhere near what I felt in my skull. “He didn’t break them?”
“Your legs? No. Fuck, he threatened to, though.” The words were gravelly, laden with stress and concern. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I looked around and repositioned my body, leaning toward him. Still damp with whiskey, parts of my tank top peeled away from my skin with the movement. “Where is he?”
“Office. He’s not making as much noise. The last two drinks slowed him down.” Damian took a deep breath and pressed his arm against mine. He tipped his chin down and turned to face me. “You were mumbling a little while you were out. You had a dream?”
“I …” I bit the edge of my top lip and rocked my body, the images flashing in my mind again. It had been a long time since I’d had a nightmare. I still thought about it nearly every day, but I was usually able to suppress all the details, all the gore. The dreams never gave me that option, though.
“It wasn’t about tonight, was it?”
“No. It wasn’t.” I stared at our legs.
Damian cleared his throat. “I’m sorry that this is happening. I—”
“This isn’t your fault.” I took a deep breath and shook my head slowly. “Seth has us tied up, and I’m the one who broke into your house.”
“But you didn’t know it was my house.”
“No, but still. None of this is your fault.” I looked back up at him, scanning his face. His jaw was relaxed and his eyes were soft, holding the same sincere look that had been so hard to walk away from years ago. “Nothing was ever your fault,” I admitted.
“Plenty of things are my fault. Righ
t now, I’m pissed I don’t know where the spare keys are.”
“Knowing would have saved your equipment.”
“I don’t care about that. He can tear this place apart, but he better not hit you again. I couldn’t … I couldn’t stop him.” He tugged his arms with a scowl.
I let his concern comfort me for a moment. It had been a long time since I’d had that feeling. The circumstances weren’t ideal, but I’d take anything from him to know he no longer hated me. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault. I’m okay.”
“It’s not okay. Fuck. I just don’t know what the hell is going on. The fact that you’re here, that you happened to break into my house on the night my brother does something like this …” He shook his head and looked toward the office. “It can’t be a coincidence. He hasn’t even made a comment about you being here. Since he followed me to the club the other week, he could be assuming that you and I …” He glanced at me and scrunched his brows. After a second, he looked back toward the office again. “But even so, he hasn’t made any comments directly about that, you know? About the possibility of us being together.”
“He seems too messed up to really think much about it.”
“Maybe.” He jostled his hands and grunted. “I can’t get to my knot. Maybe I can find yours. Give me your hands.”
I did as he asked, moving my wrists toward him. Gently, his fingers traced along mine and ran up the inside of my palms. He lingered for a moment, holding the contact before sliding up to the material.
“You said Tanner gets these jobs from someone. Do you know the guy?”
“No. I don’t know any of his contacts. I’ve tried to stay away from all of that. That’s why I haven’t seen him in a while.”
We sat in silence, listening to Seth’s progress in the back office. Stuff was still being tossed around, but at nowhere near the same intensity as earlier.
“So you’ve been making some noise in Newark, huh?” Damian asked.
“Some, I guess.”