by Tillie Cole
I jumped forward, trying to get up the stairs to the front door. Fire lashed at my arms, scalding the skin.
“I can’t find a way in!” Aubin shouted . . . and then I heard it.
“VALAN!” I snapped my head back and looked up at the attic . . . and my whole world fractured apart . . .
I was ripped from the memory by a thumb on my cheek. I moved my eyes to Sia and saw her face was pale, distraught. Her eyes were bleeding tears. “Hush . . . baby . . . what is it?” Cowboy was sitting on the opposite chair now. He met my eyes and gave me an understanding smile. He knew what memory always came back to haunt me after these episodes. My brother had lived it with me. Been right by my side.
It’s why he’ll never let you go, a voice in my head told me. And I knew, no matter how much I pushed him away, he would never leave. We’d gone through too much.
“Darlin’?” I focused again on Sia’s sweet Texan voice. “Sleep. You look so tired.” Giving up the fight, I let her soft voice guide my eyes closed, feeling her hand on my cheek and her lips press again on my mouth.
And, giving me more peace than she would ever know, she took away that night from my head. Took away the sadness that consumed me as completely as those flames had consumed the brittle wooden house we once called home. And she soothed me to sleep.
Nightmare free.
For the first time in years.
Happily numb.
Chapter Seven
Sia
Hush’s breathing evened out, his beautiful face slackening slowly from the tension which had gripped him. He was asleep, but I couldn’t leave him alone. I couldn’t stop touching him, making sure he rested. His cheek was still damp from the few tears that had fallen . . . tiny tears that, though shed in silence, had screamed his pain as loudly as a police siren on a still night.
Cowboy was silent behind me. He didn’t tell me to leave his friend alone or to let him sleep. He let me have this time. Touching the other man who had, like himself, completely captured my shredded heart. A man who had pushed me away, kept me at arm’s length . . . and now I knew why.
“Epilepsy?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Cowboy replied. My heart ached with sympathy for Hush. I pulled up the blanket over his wide chest. Blood still stained his mouth from the fight at the rodeo. When I looked at his face again, stroked the dusting of black stubble that decorated his chin, I heard that dickhead’s slurs as loudly as if he were in the room. Please tell me you no longer have anything to do with that fucking mongrel . . . half-breed . . . manipulative cunt . . .
“How could someone say such fucked-up things?” I felt a powerful wave of anger and intense sorrow that Hush could ever have those words aimed at him.
Cowboy was silent. I turned my head to look at him. I slid my hand into Hush’s though. I couldn’t seem to let him go. Cowboy was tense. His eyes lost to the fire. Without looking at me, he said, “Where we’re from . . . it’s a tiny little bumfuck town in Louisiana.” He sighed, jaw clenched. “You know the type. Don’t like anyone who don’t fit in. Good ole white, old-money kinda place. Until Hush’s mamma met his daddy. They moved away, knew they couldn’t stay in our town if they wanted to be together. But then, years later, they returned. With Hush . . .”
“And people weren’t happy.” I looked back at Hush, gripping his hand tighter.
“Yeah.” Cowboy went silent. He was watching me and Hush with a strange look in his eyes. He shook his head. “I ain’t saying anything more, cher.” He pointed to Hush. “It’s his story to tell . . . one he never ever talks about.” I got what he was saying. That I may never know. But I knew it was bad. That much I could tell.
“So he’s not just closed off because of the seizures?”
After a few thoughtful seconds, Cowboy said, “No.” I wondered if he hesitated because he didn’t want to betray his friend. Honor, I thought. Cowboy was an honorable man. I hadn’t met too many of them in my life.
“How often do they happen?” I asked, smiling fondly at Hush. His big body was relaxed in sleep. I couldn’t help but stare at our joined hands. His skin was beautiful. Its color a deep caramel. Tattoos covered his arms, but when I ran my hand over them, every so often I would feel roughness. In those places, the ink of the tattoos was patchy and faded. I found several similar patches on his arms. Then I froze . . . because, to me, they were more than familiar.
“Whenever he’s stressed, mainly.” Cowboy’s answer to my question ripped me from my thoughts. “If he gets angry too.” He glanced at Hush. “His leg bouncing is the first giveaway. It tells me he’s stressing out about something. He gets dizzy, and usually right before it happens, he gets a metallic taste on his tongue.”
My gut clenched. “He’s on medication?”
“What we get on the black market. He needs to be looked at properly, but he won’t because . . .” Cowboy stalled. He scooted to the edge of the couch and really looked at me. “The seizures get bad . . .” The vision of Hush hitting the floor and jerking, arms and legs thrashing, sprang into my mind. The nightmarish picture was enough to flood my eyes with tears again. “But it’s what those seizures represent to him, cher. That’s what has him so closed off. I ain’t saying what that is. I’m hoping, fucking praying, that he’ll tell you one day. The physical side of the seizures he can cope with. It’s the mental side that’s harder to handle.”
“And they’ll stop him from riding, won’t they?” I added, remembering there was some rule about Hangmen not riding if something was wrong with them, something that caused obvious health issues.
Cowboy shrugged. “I don’t personally think Styx will give two shits. Figure if you wanna take your life in your hands like that, then that’s your deal.”
My stomach rolled. “But Hush could be killed.”
“In this life, cher, we could be killed at any minute. You know we deal in some dark shit. But Hush, he’s got used to the signs.” He sighed. “So have I. It’s how we’ve lived so far without incident. He feels off, he don’t ride.”
“It’s why you haven’t moved onto the club’s land. Why y’all don’t live out there like the rest of them.”
“Yup.”
I found my fingers tracing a rough patch on Hush’s skin. “Cowboy . . . these patches on his arms . . . where the ink of the tattoos hasn’t taken well . . .”
“Are not my story to tell,” he said firmly. Cowboy sat back on the couch. “He’ll sleep for a while, cher. He needs to get his energy back. He needs to get his body warmed back up.” I knew I should move away from him. Let him sleep. But I couldn’t move. Seeing him like that on the floor, Cowboy jumping in and staying beside him until the seizure subsided, was the only thing that filled my head.
Leaning closer to Hush, I whispered, “You can trust me, baby. Please just let me in.” I laid my head back against the couch cushion and kept hold of his hand, kissing each finger in turn. I was determined to show him that he could let me in too.
He seemed so lonely . . . and so was I.
Maybe we could be a little less lonely together.
*****
The sound of murmuring voices pulled me from a deep sleep. I was too hot. I kicked my leg out from a blanket someone must have placed over me. I rolled over, realizing I was lying on a couch. When I opened my eyes, I saw Hush was awake on the other couch. Cowboy was sitting on the chair beside the fire.
“I fell asleep?” I asked. It was dark outside. The fire was still burning. My eyes moved from the fire to Hush. He met my eyes briefly, and then looked away. My heart sank. No . . . He was going to push me away again. I could see it. The hard mask he had shed after the seizure was again firmly in place, a scowl on his face and his eyes frosted over.
His protective shield.
I looked at Cowboy. But before he could even meet my eyes, he got up off the couch and stormed out of the room. The door that led to the porch slammed shut. I hadn’t been able to hear the conversation they’d been having as I awoke, but I could guess at the topic.
Me. Hush’s rejection of me, once again.
Hush’s attention was back on the fire. I got up and went into the kitchen. I poured myself a large glass of water and one for Hush. I took the water to him, but I didn’t look at him. I wasn’t sure I could, not right now. My stomach was in pieces at the thought of him never letting me hold his hand again. Or kiss his soft lips.
I had no idea what the hell it would take for me to get through to him.
I went upstairs into the bathroom and started the shower. The fire in the living room mixed with the warm weather had made the house a friggin’ sauna. I didn’t care because that’s what Hush had needed. Still needed to help him recover.
I stepped into the shower and let the cool water run over my head. I reached for the body wash and began soaping up my skin. As my hands ran over my shoulders and the sides of my back, I thought of Hush. For once I thought of something else but Juan in these moments. I let my fingertips ghost over the marks that I’d only ever kept to myself.
I heard the scream in my head. I felt the blazing heat, followed by the rapid onset of excruciating pain. I replayed it all in my head, a pair of dark midnight eyes watching on. Teaching me a lesson, he’d called it. So no man would ever want what was his.
My palms flattened on the tiled wall. I turned up the temperature of the shower to counterattack the shivers that had broken out along my skin. But as I stood there, shaking my head and gasping for breath to rid my mind of that night, of the night he forever ruined me, I thought of Hush. I thought of him on the floor, body shaking from the racking seizure. And I thought of the scars on his arms. So similar to mine.
I lifted my head, tipping my face up to the shower. My tears mixed with the stream and washed down the drain. I wasn’t sure how long I stayed under the spray—enough time to help me decide what I would do next. I got out of the shower and went to the mirror. I rubbed the steam off the glass and stared at my reflection. Blue eyes met mine. My wet hair ran down my back and over my shoulders. Even after all this time, it was still hard to face this. Face . . . me . . .
Mine, bella. You belong to me now . . . Don’t you know there’s no leaving me now I’ve got you? I will give you a good life. One worthy of a queen . . .
The skin on my back crawled in disgust. Swallowing the nervous lump that had lodged itself in my throat, I slowly turned, never taking my eyes off my reflection. I hadn’t looked at my back for months and months. So when the red scars came into view, I couldn’t contain the whoosh of breath that fell from my lips. I didn’t know what I was thinking . . . what I expected to find this time, every time. It was always the same: the ugliness, the mottled and broken skin textured into lumps and bumps that would forever remind me of the time I’d placed my trust in the fucking devil himself.
The devil who was now searching the length and breadth of the country to drag me back to hell.
I didn’t even blink at that thought. I was numb as I stared in the mirror as if studying the ruined flesh would somehow reverse the damage.
I let my instincts lead me. Reaching for the thin pink towel on the floor, I wrapped it around my body and opened the bathroom door. Steam escaped, colliding with the fresh air from the hallway. I walked downstairs, turning toward the living room. I heard the cracking of the fire and my footsteps padding on the wooden floor as I followed my feet to the room. I kept my eyes straight forward, blocking the stifling fear that was trying to claw its way up my throat.
“Sia?” I heard Cowboy call. He was sitting on the couch where I’d fallen asleep. He shuffled to the edge of the couch, but I held out my hand for him to stay still. Looking to my right, I met Hush’s ice-blue eyes. His forehead was lined in confusion and his full lips were pursed as he looked at me. My vision shimmered as the tears I’d known would fall began to drip over my cheeks. Clearing my throat, I let my lips move. “When I was seventeen, I ran away,” I announced, my voice broken with the pain this memory brought out each time I relived it. Hush stopped breathing. His large body was a statue under the blanket that kept him warm. I absently noticed that he once again had color in his cheeks and life in his stunning eyes.
My hands shook on the towel as I gripped it tightly over my breasts. But I had to keep going. “I . . . I was broken.” I lowered my eyes to the floor, focusing on the grains in the wooden floors. “I didn’t have a close relationship with my aunt. And I was always pissed. Pissed that I never got to know my momma, who had died so many years before.” I winced as those feelings drove themselves to the forefront of my mind. “My poppa was non-existent in my life. Ky . . . Ky came and saw me as much as he could. But the war with the Diablos was building and occupied most of his time.” A teardrop hit my lip and fell into my mouth, the salty water the perfect allegory for the bitterness that dripped from my soul in those days. “My aunt was a kind woman but had no real love for kids. She was gone a lot, and I . . .” I sniffed and let my wet hair hide my face. “I was lonely.”
“Cher,” Cowboy said. “You don’t need to go there right now.”
I held out one of my hands and ran my finger down Cowboy’s handsome face. He was beautiful, achingly so. His eyes were so open and kind. I wasn’t sure I had ever seen such kind eyes before. My hand dropped away. “I had a friend, Michelle.” I sucked in an agonized breath. I shook my head, like I could erase her pretty face from my mind. Rid myself of the guilt I felt whenever I thought of how she was left behind. But I managed a smile as I thought of her wild ways. “She hated where we lived. She was always getting me to do crazy things . . .”
There was a knock on my window. I kicked back my comforter and drew back the curtains. Michelle’s face was smiling up at me. I pulled up my window and she climbed through. The second I turned around, she whispered, “You. Me. Mexico. This Friday.”
I blinked in surprise. “What—”
“You wanna leave this place. So do I. I got us passports.” I opened my mouth to ask how, but she waved me off. “Those photobooth pictures we took weren’t just for shits and giggles, girl. As for the rest . . .” She shrugged. “Forging your shitty scrawl weren’t hard. The rest was a piece of cake.”
I burst out laughing, my heart begging to race in excitement. Michelle dragged me to the bed. “It’s all organized. All you need now is your bikinis and your sunglasses.”
I thought of my poppa and how he couldn’t give a fuck about what happened to me. Ky almost never saw me now, and my aunt was away with work more than she was here. I had my horse . . . but when I thought of getting the hell away . . . thought of the sandy beaches, and the fact that it wasn’t fucking Texas, my decision was made.
“I’m in,” I said. Michelle squealed and launched her arms around me.
“You won’t regret it, Sia. It’ll be the best fucking thing we ever do!”
“We ran to Mexico.” I closed my eyes, remembering crossing the border and feeling so fucking high with freedom. With the idea of a new beginning away from the club. Then I remembered—
“I met Juan Garcia two days into our trip.” His face flashed into my head. His dark eyes, olive skin, and beautiful black hair, short at the sides and perfectly styled on the top. I laughed a single humorless laugh. “I was smitten the minute I saw him.” I pictured his toned, lithe body in shorts, walking across the beach to where we sat sunbathing. “I was seventeen; he was twenty-five. I had never been in love before. I’d barely even had a boyfriend before. I hadn’t really come to grips with who I was as a person. At how I’d been kept from my father and brother all my life. And I wasn’t really ready to face the shit I knew would be waiting for me at home. So when Juan swept me off my feet, I went willingly.”
My hand shook as it fought to keep its grip on the towel. “It was obvious that he became as obsessed with me as I did him. We were never apart. He took me to dinners in restaurants I could only ever have dreamed of eating in. The locals worshipped the ground he walked on . . . and in no time at all, so did I. I loved him to death . . . until . . .” I shook my he
ad. Just remembering that day made me nauseous. “Only a week after I’d met Juan, Michelle left me a note to say that she’d moved on to where we were supposed to travel next. She understood I’d found Juan and she wanted me to stay with him. She said she would see me again in a few weeks.” I blinked, seeing the letter so clearly in my head. It was her writing. I recognized it. “It was just like her. Leaving me to get laid while she flitted to the next thing she wanted to do. It was typical Michelle, so I never doubted it.” A quick sob came from my throat, catching me off guard. “Only she never came back. I asked Juan for help. He was a businessman, a rich man with contacts. But there was nothing we could find about where she’d gone.” I took a deep inhale. “That was, until I went looking for him one day at his work.” I smiled humorlessly at my own stupidity. “And found . . . found . . .”
“Enough, cher.” Cowboy got up from the couch. “You’re fucking shaking. Don’t do this. You don’t need to tell us.” I turned my face to look at Hush. His jaw was tight and he was gripping the blanket so hard I thought it would rip apart.
“I couldn’t leave,” I continued, voice croaking just remembering all the shit he’d put me through. “He kept me in his home. I . . . I didn’t dare cross him. Then one time, I did.”
I stepped away from Cowboy. He radiated pure rage, his thick arms showing off every vein and muscle under his golden skin. I wasn’t sure my legs would carry me into the center of the living room where they both could see me.
Where Hush could see.
“I only made that mistake once.” I drew in a deep breath. “It only took one punishment to make me understand that I could never betray him again.” I closed my eyes and willed myself to do this. For Hush, I told myself. I thought of him on the floor, the seizure taking control of his body. Of his face in the aftermath, his eyes looking up at me with such need, such desperation for comfort. My comfort.