Kellan

by Sienna Valentine

  So that’s why Kellan ran away this time. And that’s why he hadn’t been back. Because my stepfather had lost his temper. My hands were shaking. What the hell?

  “It wasn’t just Slade, though, Dad,” I said softly, shaking my head. “I was just as much to blame for what happened as he was. Okay, maybe I didn’t know what he was planning that day, but I didn’t exactly tell him no. It was my choice.” And my biggest mistake.

  My stepfather snorted derisively. “You may think that, Iris, but I know what an effect an older boy can have on a young girl. I know how manipulative they are. You didn’t choose him, honey. He just gave you the illusion of a choice. I hate to hear you blame yourself.”

  As usual, my stepfather refused to accept the truth. I shook my head again. “This is why Kellan ran away, isn’t it? After you told him, that’s when things really got bad.”

  My stepfather sighed deeply, like the weight of the world was rushing out of him along with his breath. “I never told you because I was… ashamed of how I’d handled it. I never should have told him, Iris. I did it out of anger, and I’m… I’m sorry. This is all my fault.”

  But was it? Because the more we talked, the more it seemed like really, it was all mine.

  I was the one who’d fallen for Slade’s tricks seven years ago. I was the one who hadn’t been smart enough to see through him. And I was the one who’d gone running back to him, thinking it would help, when all it did was dredge up the most painful memories of Kellan’s whole life, reminding him of the betrayal he’d suffered—how the person he’d looked up to most in all the world had turned out to be some… monster. A rapist.

  I felt sick. My stepfather might’ve been the catalyst for all this, but I was sure as hell the reason everything was going wrong now. Slade Jarvis really was the biggest mistake of my life—and I’d made it twice.

  ~ TEN ~

  Slade

  Airports, by their very nature, were loud.

  It was hard to even think over all the sounds of people talking in the cavernous halls, their echoing voices filling my ears again and again. People of all shapes and sizes rushed by me, hustling to and fro between the ticket counter and the path that led to their chosen terminal. As I stood there I felt an enormous weight on top of me, particularly as I watched the men and women working the ticket counter.

  I had spent the previous night at a cheap motel just inside of the city limits of my hometown, and the moment I’d woken up, I was dead set on making a break for it. The wounds from the night before still felt fresh, and I knew deep down that leaving would be the right thing to do.

  But then why did I feel so terrible about it?

  If this was the right decision, why was I so conflicted about buying that ticket? I knew what would happen if I stayed, if I dared to even imagine a relationship with Iris—there would only ever be pain. I knew in my gut that the right decision for me would be to just stay out of her life. Who knows, maybe Kellan would eventually grow up and head back home after he realized how much of an idiot he’d been. Maybe their genuine hatred of me could bring them back together and turn them into one big, happy family.

  But what if it doesn’t? I asked myself, feeling the weight of the bag in my hand pulling down on me like an anchor. What if something happens, and I was the cause?

  And then there was the deep sense of responsibility I felt for the havoc I’d caused my friends and family. I wanted to forget, go back to the days where I didn’t care about the feelings of others and could shrug off women like a jacket I’d worn for too long. I wanted that sense of freedom from my own worries. I wanted to feel nothing again.

  Especially when it came to Iris Walker.

  Iris fucking Walker, the sweet girl I’d used and run out on—twice, now. The girl who everyone assumed I’d raped. I’d done a lot of fucked up shit in my time, sure, but rape? That was never something I’d even considered. My stomach lurched at the thought.

  If that was what everyone thought of me, what was the point of trying to change their minds? Obviously, I’d fucked up so bad they thought of me as a violent offender, as a criminal, as the kind of animal who’d violate a woman just to get his way.

  My heart nearly froze in my chest as I realized that from anyone else’s perspective, that may actually look an awful lot like what I’d done to Iris, and as I dwelled on it, the most painful thought of all came crashing into me: What would Mom say? What would she think of the way you turned out?

  No. I couldn’t handle thoughts like those, just like I couldn’t handle everyone’s eyes on me, judging, condemning. Let them go on thinking Slade’s the big, bad bogeyman hiding under their beds. Fuck ‘em. Fuck ‘em all. I know what I am. Let them think what they want.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket. At first I was annoyed, but then I saw Iris’ name scrawled across my screen. My chest tightened. Could I handle talking to her after what we’d done the night before?

  Against my better judgment, I swiped my thumb over the green “answer” icon on my phone and put the speaker to my ear, my eyes closed.

  “Iris,” I said, trying to be as curt as possible.

  “Where are you?” she asked, though for some reason I couldn’t get a good read on her tone. She didn’t sound angry, at least not at me, and there was something else mixed in to her voice. Something like concern.

  “I’m at a bar,” I said, figuring that would be the best excuse for all of the noise going on around me. If she knew I was leaving, then this conversation would go downhill real fast. It was better if she didn’t know. “Why? What’s wrong?”

  “I need to talk to you,” she said, a frustrated sigh crackling through the phone. “It’s about Kellan… and Dad.”

  “You’re not giving me much of a reason to keep talking,” I grumbled, giving heavy consideration to just hanging up. I hated even thinking about my father, let alone actually bringing him up in conversation.

  “Be an adult for two minutes, please?” Iris asked, her exasperation with me now in full swing. “Dad called me earlier. Apparently, after you went to see Kellan at that house, he called Dad to warn him that you were back. He told Dad that I needed to be kept safe from you. But he kept calling you my rapist.”

  “So, everyone thinks I’m a rapist but you, huh?” I scoffed, shaking my head. “What do you want me to do about that? No one here has any interest in anything I have to say.”

  “That’s the point of this discussion, Slade,” she snapped, silencing me pretty damn quick. “It was my dad who sent Kellan on this spiral.”

  I scrunched my face. “But why? That doesn’t even make sense.”

  “Because of you, apparently,” Iris said. “Kellan always talked about you, even after you’d left, and even blamed Dad for ‘pushing you away.’ Apparently, that was the straw that broke the camel’s back with him, and he told Kellan everything—but altered more than a few details, like the fact that he thinks you raped me.”

  “Just more proof that coming back here was a huge mistake,” I muttered, massaging the bridge of my nose. “I knew staying would only make everything worse off than it already was. I knew I should just leave.”

  There was silence over the phone for a moment, broken only by the soft sounds of Iris’s breathing. I knew the moment I’d said it that I’d given too much away, shown my hand when I should have played it close to my chest.

  “So, that’s what you’re going to do? Just up and leave like you always do?” Iris let out a snort. “Christ, you’re at the airport, aren’t you, getting ready to cut and run—again?”

  Doesn’t she get it? I thought, holding my head in my free hand. All of this would be so much better if I wasn’t there.

  “This is what’s best for everyone, Iris,” I said. “With me gone, everyone can get back to their lives again, and Kellan and Dad can get back to hating me - together.”

  “It’s better for you, maybe,” she shot back. “But then again, it’s always been about what’s best for Slade. After all, you never really c
onsidered how everyone would really feel after you were gone. You’re so concerned with your own needs that you always put them first, justifying that everything you do is for the best for everyone else. Just like when you left me seven years ago.”

  My stomach clenched. I had hoped to God she would avoid it, just like I had all this time, that it was too painful for her to even speak of. My heart started to race as I tried to think of a way to get out of this, some way to avoid what I’d been trying to hide from for the better part of a decade.

  “You need to face up to your problems,” Iris said, frustration laden in her voice. “You’ve got to stop running from—”

  I smashed my thumb against the red “end call” button, cutting her off from finishing her undoubtedly long lecture on my responsibilities. I knew what I had to do the moment I hit that button.

  I stepped up to the ticket counter, waiting for the clerk to finish with whatever complicated computer work she was engaged in. I could still hear my pulse in my ears, thumping like a drum to the beat of my own panic attack. This was the only way that this could end, with me going somewhere far, far away.

  “Good afternoon, sir. Are you going to be flying with us today?” the young lady asked, finally turning her attention toward me. She was blonde and pretty, exactly the kind of girl I would have fucked in a heartbeat. It even crossed my mind to seduce her right there and convince her to go for a round while I was waiting for my flight. But even as I thought of it, I knew that it wasn’t the least bit appealing to me. Not today.

  “Yes,” I said, trying to afford her the faintest hint of a smile. “I just need a one-way ticket.”

  “Where to, sir?” the attendant asked, the same bright and cheery smile on her face that had been there when I’d walked up. I almost didn’t understand what she was asking, at first.

  “I’m sorry?” I said, frowning as I tried to pry myself out from my thoughts. “I didn’t quite hear you.”

  “I asked, where are you going to be flying today?”

  “Home,” I answered, without really thinking about how vague I was being. That was all I wanted, to be home where I was safe. But the more I thought of that word, the less and less it reminded me of where I’d been only a few days before—the hospital, my apartment, all the nurses who hated my guts.

  “Are you able to be a little more specific, sir?” the attendant asked, her smile faltering. Clearly I wasn’t making her job any easier. “I can’t really sell you a ticket for ‘home’ unless you tell me where ‘home’ is.”

  Where was home?

  I hadn’t really felt at home since my mother died. To me, home had always meant with her, and after she was gone, there was no place left for me to feel like I belonged. The past couple days, though, spending time with Iris—that was the closest I’d come to feeling like I was at home. As silly as that sounded, it was true.

  Being with Iris made me feel like I was where I was supposed to be, but I knew that feeling was dangerous. The second I got angry, the second anyone got too close, I’d lash out and hurt someone again. I’d hurt Iris again. I’d proven that to myself already, with how I’d treated her this morning.

  But what else was there for me? Every time I thought of the word “home,” I saw my stepsister’s pretty face.

  As I let the idea stew in my mind, I began to realize that where my job was had never been home—not even when I first left my father’s house. None of the places I had lived had ever really been home.

  Then it hit me all at once: this was home. Even after all this time, this town had never once stopped being my home. Everything that I’d ever really cared about in my life was settled right in this place, and all I’d been doing since that day seven years ago was running, like some scared little kid. I was okay with them thinking I was some kind of monster because it was easy. Because I felt like, after what I’d done, I didn’t deserve a home anymore. I didn’t even deserve to be near my mother’s grave. And facing up to what I’d done, seeking redemption for it, had all seemed too big. Too hard. An insurmountable task to accomplish.

  Like some little kid, I had been running away from home for the past seven years.

  I couldn’t leave. Not again. I couldn’t leave her. Not when I had so much to atone for. Not when doing that might finally stop my demons from chasing me around the world.

  “I’m really sorry,” I said, snapping out of my torpor. “I actually don’t need to go anywhere today. I’m right where I need to be.”

  “All right, sir, if that’s what you’d like,” she said, not at all sharing my enthusiasm over my revelation. “Now, if there’s nothing else that you need here, then I’d appreciate it if you’d let the next person through and exit the line.”

  I smiled and turned around, hoisting my bag up onto my shoulder as I made my way back through the crowd of impatient people waiting for their turn at the ticket counter. I almost cursed myself for already returning my rental car, but it would only cost a few moments and a couple of dollars to get myself a new one.

  My thoughts were only of Iris, of apologizing for everything I’d done over the last few days—hell, for the last few years. I’d spent so much time running from the idea of hurting anyone that I didn’t realize that staying away was hurting her—and me—more than anything else. She’d opened herself up to me again, even though she had no reason to. I sure as hell hadn’t given her one, had I? I’d been an ass right from the start. Again.

  I needed to make up for that now. If this was going to be my home, if I was going to accept that being with her was exactly where I needed to be, I was going to have to put my foot down and start fixing some of the damage I’d caused.

  I just hoped I wasn’t too late to save whatever it was that we had.

  ~ ELEVEN ~

  Iris

  A few days. That was how long Slade Jarvis had been back in my life, and already, I was so sick of sulking over him.

  So, he was going to run away again—get on a plane and never look back. So what? What difference did it make, really? He’d done the same damn thing seven years ago, and if I hadn’t shown up, he’d still be there in the city with his big-shot job and his ego the size of Texas. That was where he wanted to be, obviously. That was where he belonged.

  Let him run. That was okay by me. Or at least it would be, once I got some perspective again.

  It didn’t matter that Slade was an asshole who couldn’t face reality—at least, not in the grand scheme of things. What mattered most now was that Kellan, who was already vulnerable, now thought his male role model had raped his sister. No doubt that was why he’d taken off this time and hadn’t come back. As much of a prick as Slade was, he wasn’t that, and I needed to set the record straight. Maybe then, Kellan would come home. Maybe then, he’d come to his senses.

  The trouble was that I’d been trying to call him ever since I’d hung up with Slade, and he wasn’t picking up. Sure, you’d phone our stepfather, but not me. Jerk.

  God, I was so worried about him. And I was furious with our stepfather. His little coping mechanism—the insane, damning story he’d made up to reconcile what he’d seen that day—had sent my little brother off the deep end. He was the reason for Kellan’s downward spiral, not Slade taking off, even if those two events did go hand-in-hand. I didn’t care what Kellan had done, how mouthy he’d been—he was a teenager, and he was vulnerable. Dad never should have opened his big mouth.

  If that was what it took for my stepfather to make it through the day, fine, but he should’ve kept Kellan out of it, no matter how angry my brother had made him.

  Jesus Christ, why does everyone even care so much? Our family had been together less than a year when it happened, and it’s not like we weren’t adults. Nobody was underage. Why the hell is everyone so judgmental?

  I was just slamming down my cell phone after getting Kellan’s voice mail for the millionth time when someone knocked—hard—on my door.

  For one brief, beautiful instant, hope gripped me. Was that Kell
an? Was he avoiding my calls because he was on his way? God, I hoped so.

  I leapt for the door, standing on tip-toe to peer through the peephole at who I hoped was my younger brother. Then my heart sank.

  It was Slade. The exact person I didn’t want to see.

  “Come on, Iris,” he said, as if reading my thoughts. “Open the door.”

  “What the hell are you doing here, Slade?” I called to him, folding my arms. “You’re not going to get one last fuck out of me before you take off on us again, if that’s what you’re after.”

  “It’s not. I swear.” He sounded tired. Really tired. Almost as tired as his father had over the phone. “We just… I need to talk to you, okay? There’s some things I need to say.”

  “And I have a little brother to save,” I hissed, “so you’d better walk away now, Slade, before you miss your flight.”

  “There’s no flight,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  I frowned. No flight? Slade wasn’t leaving? Tentatively, I put my hand on the deadbolt for the door.

  This is a mistake, I thought, hesitating even as Slade knocked again. Slade hasn’t changed. Not in seven years, and not now. It’s a ploy to hurt you again, to use you for his own gain. That’s all you’ve ever been to him—just another toy he can pick up and toss to the side whenever it suits him.

  “What about what you told me before—how it was a mistake coming back here? How I meant nothing to you, how what we did…” I swallowed the rest of the words before he could hear my voice crack. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. “I’m getting kind of sick of you breaking my heart, Slade. Not to mention my trust.”