Burn

by Jc Emery

  Having Mindy walk through my space, as fucked-up as she is right now, makes me feel like maybe I should have done something to make the cabin feel like a home. I don’t fucking know, but the place hasn’t been updated and barely any furniture has been changed out since Sylvia, Pop’s mom, decorated the place back when Ryan was born.

  “Bed,” I say and point at my full-sized bed. It’s messy as fuck, and I honestly can’t remember the last time I changed the sheets. Couple years back, when Fish hooked up with his chick, Mary, the first thing he said about it was that he always had clean sheets. Sure, he had a woman to bust his balls, but he also had someone making him dinner and keeping his clean bed warm. We laughed at him, fucked with him over giving a fuck about something like clean sheets, and still won’t let him live it down. But the truth is, as I watch Mindy sit herself on the edge of my bed, I’m dying to know if she does laundry—and if she does, I might commit a few felonies to keep her around.

  In the bathroom, I grab the supplies I need and toss them on the bed next to her. She’s silent as I gently take her arm and clean her up, but she watches my every move.

  “You shouldn’t have to take care of me,” she says.

  “Don’t have to. I choose to.”

  “I’ll pay for the mirror.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Some of her cuts are a little deeper than others, but thankfully there’s very little glass in her skin from what I’ve seen so far, and the pieces have been large. The cuts that need it get super glue on them, and the others are either left open after they’re cleaned or they’re bandaged up. Once all the blood is cleared away, it doesn’t look nearly as bad as it did before.

  “Did you mean what you said before?” Her lower lip trembles as she says it, but she sounds determined.

  “I always mean what I say—I just don’t always mean to say it.”

  “You said I can’t want you. You said I don’t know what I’m asking for.”

  “I did.” Fuck. She’s going there. I wish she wouldn’t, but I guess she wouldn’t be Mindy if she didn’t. This girl fucking guts me, and she doesn’t even know it.

  “You only know one side of me. I couldn’t have you and then lose you.” I finish up her other arm and place a hand on her knee.

  “You’re not going to lose me,” she says. Her full lips form a pout, and she stares at me with a tired expression.

  My thumb rubs small circles on her knee, comforting us both. She lets out a soft sigh and blows out a breath. With both hands, I cup her face and pull her close to me.

  “I want things for you—a good man with a safe job, a couple of kids, and a nice house. I want you to be secure, and taken care of, and for all this sick shit to be a distant memory. You can’t want me, because I don’t want someone like me for you.” It’s the realest thing I’ve ever said, and that scares the shit out of me. I’m not afraid of my feelings, but I’m not usually into sharing them with anyone. With Mindy, though, I want to do more than to share with her. I want to be everything for her. I want her to want me because of who I am and not what I represent.

  But no matter how desperate I am to have her, I need her safe and free of my shit even more. I love her too much to not be selfish with her. Seeing her dreams come true, even with another man, is what I need for her. I’ll always watch over her, making sure she gets what she needs and deserves. I just won’t be the man giving it to her.

  She leans in and drags her nose along mine. Tears pool in her eyes and fall down her cheeks when she scrunches them closed.

  “Is that what you want?” she asks. “I mean, the kids and house part?”

  “Why? You offering?” I try to tease her, but when she opens her eyes, there’s an emptiness there that fucks me up, so I go about answering her honestly. “It’s expected that brothers will take an old lady eventually. Most of them end up with kids, but it was never my thing.” I hate admitting that to her. For some reason, I wish I could tell her that I want the whole normal family bullshit. There’s this look in her eyes that I can’t exactly make out. It’s too sad to be sure, but she’s definitely not saying something that she clearly wants to say. And it’s too difficult to stay here, holding on to her and knowing that I’m not enough.

  Ryan changed when he met Alex, so maybe that’s what happens when you find the person that just fits you. If I allowed Mindy in the way I wish I could, I’d do the whole house and kids bullshit. I’d probably fucking love it, if I’m being honest with myself. Ma and I were lost as fuck back before Pop sucked her in, but when he did, we became a family. I liked being part of a family as much as I like being part of the club, more even. But I see the path she’s going down, and I don’t want to be the thing that destroys her. I don’t know how I’m going to keep her close and get her to understand why we can’t ever happen, but I have to try.

  I place a gentle kiss to her forehead, then stand up, and cross the room where I grab a clean shirt and pair of boxers for her to change into. Her clothes are a disaster, and she’s tired.

  “Change into these and take a nap,” I say and move to head out of the room, but she clears her throat and stands from the bed, so I pause in case she has something to say. She folds her arms over her chest and narrows her eyes. Oh, she has something to say all right, and I’m probably not going to like it.

  “You know, if you want me to stop being interested in you, then you really should stop kissing me.”

  When I leave the room, I mentally kick myself in the ass for kissing her to begin with. I hate when people give bullshit excuses like how they couldn’t help themselves, but fuck if I could stop myself from kissing her that night. Everything was so fucked-up and so right at the same time. She was just there, and she’s Mindy, and I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want her, so I kissed her. I didn’t even get to taste her the way I wanted to, but it doesn’t matter anymore. I can’t subject her to a life with me, not really anyway.

  The front door shuts behind me, and it’s so quiet yet so loud at the same time. Standing on the front porch, I lower my head and close my eyes. One deep breath and then two and three, and it’s not enough to calm my heart from beating out of my chest.

  I loved Mindy yesterday and the day before that and the month before that. I even thought I loved her the first time she pressed her cheek into my palm on top of that playground structure. I thought I loved her a thousand times on a hundred days. And I was wrong every single time.

  If I thought what I felt then was love, I have no fucking clue what I’m feeling now. Every inch of my body hurts even though I’m not injured. My brain is running a million miles a minute with racing thoughts of how much I love her, of how desperate I am to have her and protect her. Nothing will ever be the same after this moment. I’ve never been in love, didn’t even know I was capable of it. I’ve liked women before, been amused by them, but never have I wanted them as fiercely as I want Mindy.

  Loving Mindy isn’t something I’m prepared for. I don’t know if you can ever be prepared for this. I love Ma, I love Pop, and I love Ryan. I even love Alex and Michael, but it’s different with each of them. I want them in my life, and I want them safe and happy. But I’m selfish with them, and I’m okay with that. I don’t really care too much if I’m difficult with them, or if I’m not good enough for them because they’re my family.

  Everything is different with Mindy.

  I’m different with Mindy.

  I leave the cabin in her Acura and drive into town. Before I know it, I’m parking the car and getting out. The For Sale sign hangs in the window of the still-empty space that used to be Universal Grounds. I’ve been by here more times than I can count since it happened, but this is only the second time I’ve stopped. Mindy might be getting better, but I’m not. The more I feel for her, the harder it is not to torch this fucking building. I’m not one of those people who gets over shit that goes wrong in life. I work it out in my head, make a plan, and then take out the offending party. It’s really that simple. The people I can’
t find or deal with immediately are on a mental list, and I don’t fucking give out pardons.

  But I can’t kill the men who hurt Mindy. I can’t kill them because they’re already dead. Duke killed the fucker who tried to choke Mindy to death with his dick. Holly took the other one out with a fucking brick to the guy’s face. He was so fucked-up by the time we got there, I have no idea what he looked like before she got started on him. The other one, though. I remember his face as he lay dying on the floor, just feet from my girl. I’ll always remember the face of that sick fuck.

  My mind drifts to what our life could be like together. I’d do everything in my power to make her feel safe to be with me. I wouldn’t be able to stand it if she feared my touch in any way. I’d give her everything Pop’s given Ma, except I’d probably give her a couple of kids if she wanted that. We’d get married at some point because she deserves the highest level of commitment I can give to her. I’d move her into a real house, where she could bake cookies and shit and make the fucking place a home. I’d take her on my bike as often as I could because I know how much she loved that one ride I took her on. I wouldn’t ever be enough for her, but I could spend every day of my miserable fucking life trying to be worthy of her.

  I try to keep it at bay, but I can’t. There’s a darkness in my world that I’m trying to ignore. Mindy would be at home baking cookies, and I’d come home covered in blood. Our kids wouldn’t have a normal childhood with visiting their fucked-up dad in prison. I’d tell Mindy not to bring them, but she would. The woman wouldn’t listen, I already know that. She would tell me how much she loves me, even if she doesn’t mean it, because that’s just who she is. She would make sure our kids were fed and clothed and cared for, but what would I do for them? I would do what my dad did for me. I’d give them a man they know loves them, but he’d still be a sadistic killer. I’d try to make it to their baseball games or dance performances, but the cut I’d wear the times I’d be able to show up would tell their friends’ parents that we’re not the kind of family their kids should hang out with.

  Money is flush now, but if the state legalizes bud, we’re pretty much fucked. Our business is built on the illegality of it, and while we’d still have a business to pay our bills with, we’d have to pay bullshit taxes and deal with regulatory crap that would severely cut into the profits. That’s best case scenario. Bud isn’t our only business, and there’s no fucking way the other shit we got our hands in will become legit. I’ve been locked up before, and I’ll be locked up again, and what the fuck would Mindy do on her own?

  The pain in my chest gets so bad that it feels like my bike got dropped on my fucking ribs. I didn’t know it could hurt this bad, had no fucking clue how painful it is to realize how much you love someone, knowing you’re not good for them.

  Mindy’s future is a fuck lot brighter without me in it. She could have that house and those kids and not be with a man who reminds her of when her body was torn apart and her soul was fractured. Mindy deserves peace and happiness, and I may be able to make her happy at times, but I’ll never give her peace.

  And because of that, I have to let her go once she’s stable enough. I’ll be a selfish prick for just a little while longer, and I’ll guard the time I have with her as ferociously as I can, because when our time is up and she’s gone, I’ll have nothing left but the memory of the only woman I’ll ever love. And then I’ll become more of what I hate, because if I can’t have the only thing worth breathing for, then I’ll become the creature nightmares are made of.

  Chapter 18

  “Oh, Ian,” I moan and shove my face into the pillow beneath my head. My naked body slides against the aged, dark red sheets, my legs twisting the fabric into a tangled mess. I stretch out and arch my back, enjoying the feeling of being naked in his bed. The only thing that would make this moment better would be if Ian were here with me. A sigh escapes me at the thought. Oh, the incredible things he could do to my body if only he were here. Well, you know, here and willing.

  “I’m naked and in the man’s bed,” I tell myself with exasperation. “If he won’t touch me like this, then I give the hell up.” I’m no slouch, and I know that, but Ian’s little temper tantrum today wasn’t exactly an expression of love. It was more like a desperate plea from a volatile man. He sees things in me that I don’t see in myself, things I can’t bring myself to believe—especially when he refuses to let me in. I’m not asking him to be someone different. I’ve fallen head over running shoes in love with him just as he is—scars and all. I only wish he could see what’s in my heart. Then maybe he wouldn’t push me away.

  If he knew that this isn’t a phase and I’m not going to run away when things get dark and scary, then maybe he would allow himself to love me the way I so desperately need him to. No matter what he thinks, he’s it for me. He wants me to have this idealistic life that can’t exist. The darkness will always be there, in my life, because it’s a part of me now. I can’t just pretend it’s not there like he does. The darkness and pain have shaped me in an irreversible way. I can’t even imagine who I would be now without all the fucked-up little bits that brought Ian to me, and I don’t want to. I’m not sure that I really like who I am now, but it doesn’t matter.

  He’s what matters.

  Sucking in a deep breath, I revel in his scent. It’s a strange mix of sweat and mint with another scent that I can’t really place. My entire body relaxes as I hug his pillow and try to relax. When I fell asleep earlier, I was wearing Ian’s boxers and T-shirt. They were comfortable, and I should be putting them back on now, but I couldn’t help myself. I just wanted to know what it would be like to lie naked in his bed just once. So now I’m lying here, obsessively breathing in his scent and wondering exactly when it was that I fell off my rocker and right on my head. But I’m not too concerned, so I suck in another deep breath and inhale his unique scent. If I’m not careful, I could fall asleep just like this.

  In the distance, I hear the rumble of a Harley. At least, I think it’s a Harley. A yawn escapes me as a light shines in through the front of the cabin. The sound grows louder as it nears. It takes me a moment, as I wiggle in my spot in the bed, to realize that I have company. I try to untangle myself from the sheets and fly off the bed in a frantic search for the boxers and T-shirt in the dark room. It must be the middle of the night because the sky is pitch black outside. There isn’t a clock in this room from what I can tell, and I haven’t bothered doing anything but stripping naked and rolling around in the bed like a nut case. The noise from the bike stops just as I find the T-shirt and slip it on. Heavy footsteps sound from the front porch, and the front door opens. Just in time, I find the boxers and slink back into bed, pulling them on and lying there awkwardly and try to pretend that I’m asleep.

  The front door shuts, and moments later, Ian walks into the bedroom. He stops in the doorway and leans against the frame. With his arms crossed over his chest, he lets out an unamused laugh and says, “I know you’re not asleep.”

  “How?” I ask and sit up immediately. I could have tried to keep up the charade that I was sleeping, but there’s little point.

  “You snore.” Through a sliver of moonlight, I can see the faint smile on his face. If it wasn’t such a wonderful and rare sight, I might be annoyed by his observation.

  “I do not snore.” I do, but no lady wants to admit to such a thing. “And even if I did, you wouldn’t know that I do, but for the record, I don’t.”

  “You do.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  Liar, my brain screams at me.

  “But you do,” he says. “Starts out with heavy breathing, then this nasally business, and finally a snoring-wheezing thing once you’re fully asleep. If you’re having a nightmare, you talk in your sleep.”

  Pushing off the door frame, he walks out of the bedroom and opens the front door. I’m half-stunned by what he’s said and half-scared that he’s going to leave again. Sometimes it surprises me how well Ian knows me. I guess he
picked up on my sleeping habits when I was in the hospital. I can’t imagine where else he would have learned all of that.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Out.” The tone of his voice tells me he’s tired and maybe even annoyed, but he’s trying hard to keep it from showing. I guess I know him pretty well, too. Just like I know that yelling after him won’t keep him here with me. He doesn’t respond to normal pleas, so I don’t even try. Instead, I go straight for what will get his attention.

  There’s not a whole lot in the bedroom for me to work with, but I find an empty glass on the table beside the bed and grip it in my hand. I don’t have much of an arm, so I focus really hard on what I’m doing and take a deep breath before tossing the glass at the closing front door. It shatters against the solid wood, and sure enough, the front door reopens instantly. Ian’s standing in the doorway, staring me down. I’ll have to remember to clean the glass up the first chance I get. The last thing I want is to step in that mess.

  “Was that necessary?” he asks in a bored tone and walks back into the house, shutting the door behind him.

  “Yes.”

  “You gonna clean up your mess?” He’s back in the bedroom now, and he’s leaning over the bed, his teeth gritted and his voice rough.

  “No.” I lift my brows and tuck my legs underneath me. I have a brief moment of being shy when my breasts bounce as I reposition myself. I was fully clothed when he left earlier, well before I dozed off for my nap. I notice his eyes fall to my chest momentarily and then dart right back up to my face.

  “There a reason you’re throwing shit?”

  “Yeah.”

  When I threw the glass, I just knew that I didn’t want him to leave, but now that he’s standing in front of me, I realize that it’s so much more than that. I’ve been working up to being able to be touched and being ready to be with him, but he keeps pulling away. We get closer and then he pulls back, just like clockwork, and it’s sending me over an emotional cliff. He said he wouldn’t be the reason I fall apart because of my reckless behavior, but the truth is, there’s nothing he can do to not be the reason I break. Everything I’ve done has been for him, to be with him, and I’m not going to let him take this from me. I’ve lost too much already. I won’t lose him, too.