What Lies Beneath (Count on Me Series #7)

by Melyssa Winchester

  This was a mistake.

  Jumping up off the sofa and making a break for it down the hall, my knees barely hit the tiles of the bathroom floor before the bile that’s been threatening to spill out since the second she began reading the entry finally expels itself.

  My body heaving until there’s absolutely nothing left, not even the spit I’d expect after spilling my guts out the way I did. The burn in my throat as I keep heaving only a sliver of what I deserve after what I said about her.

  My punishment.

  I know I called her names. I know the horrible, sick things I’ve said about her over the years, but with everything that’s happened in the last couple, I thought I was past this. I get all twisted up in knots every time I so much as think about how many times I’ve actually called her retarded over the years, so this shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

  Yet here I am on the hard, cold and unforgiving floor of our bathroom feeling just that.

  Surprised and twisted in knots, with no sign of relief in sight.

  I swore I would never call her that again and there it was, in hard blue ink.

  I broke my promise.

  “Kayden?” she calls through after knocking lightly three times. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah…Yeah. I’m just great.” I mumble before turning my face toward the bowl as another assault takes over and I’m throwing up again.

  I am so not great.

  “Can I come in?”

  How do I explain this? How just seeing one word on a paper caused this? That I hate him. Hate myself.

  Jesus.

  With as torn up as I am right now, it’ll be a miracle if I can even string two words together. I’m not even sure I can look her in the eye after what she just had to speak out loud.

  My words.

  Not waiting for a response, I hear the click of the door and the sound of her feet padding across as she makes her way in and lowers herself down beside me. Her hand instantly coming out and over mine, wrapping around it tightly.

  “Belle…”

  “No, Kay. I get it. You don’t have to say anything. We can just sit here until it passes.”

  She’s too good for an asshole like me.

  She deserves better.

  “That word,” I manage to choke out and her head just shakes as her grip around my hand gets tighter. “I’m sorry.”

  “I figured that’s what caused this.” She motions around us. “You still haven’t forgiven yourself.”

  “I have…” I attempt to argue, but her head shaking again has my fight falling away.

  “You haven’t, and it’s okay. It just means I get to say this again. Say it as many times as it takes until you finally get it. I forgive you, Kay. For the names you called me then and what came later. I forgive you.”

  Shifting across the floor she nuzzles her face into my back, her breath running hot against the back of my neck before she lifts her hands and begins rubbing my back soothingly.

  “I forgive you.”

  “I can’t read any more of that entry. I know I said I wanted to deal with it, but Belle, I just can’t. I promised you I would make up for everything I did and making you read those words,” I pause. “Those fucking names…it’s not making things right. It’s turning it wrong.”

  “Did you write a lot back then?”

  “A few. Not much. None of it is pretty though. There’s probably worse names. I don’t want you to go through that again. Once was enough.”

  Even if it’s from me, I will protect her.

  “As ugly as it gets, we have to face it, Kayden. Nothing is going to change if you don’t. I can handle it. We’re not those people anymore.”

  She’s right. I know she is, but it still doesn’t make it any easier. Making her read my hatred from back then isn’t fair.

  “What if I just tell you what I did to Sammy? What we did that day at the park?”

  Sighing, I feel her head move against my back as she concedes.

  “If that’s what you need.” She whispers and shifting from my position facing the toilet, I twist around until I’m facing her. Uncomfortable as hell on the floor, but needing to do it more than I need my next breath, I pull her into me and kiss the top of her head lightly.

  “All I need is you.”

  “You’ve got me, Kay. Forever.”

  Something about the finality in her tone when she promises me forever has the story spilling out. Every sick and twisted bit.

  “Mike stole his mom’s smokes. We were gonna head to the park, hang out and smoke a few. At the time, we didn’t know we were followed, but then Sammy came out of nowhere and caught me right as I lit one. He started yelling that he was going to tell and the next thing I know, Kevin is pulling back off the tree and tackling him to the ground. Holding him down while Mike and I looked on. I don’t even know what made me get off that tree, but I did. I followed Mike over and when he got down on the knees and started going off on him, Kev pulled back enough and I started beating on him. I knew he meant what he said and he was going to end up telling my mom about me smoking. I couldn’t let it happen so I wailed on him.”

  With her hands still stroking my back, she lifts her head up and presses her lips against my dampened cheek. “What happened next?”

  “He started crying real hard. Snot pouring out of his nose and everything. Then he pissed himself. Mike started laughing. Kevin too. We all did. I should have stopped then but I was so mad, Belle. I kept hearing him telling my mom, and then Dean kicking my ass for it that I didn’t stop. I just kept stomping on him. Dean used to say that as long as I stayed away from the face, I was good. So that’s what I did. At some point, Mike and Kev got him up and they went at his face, and I remember pulling back, but it was basically the same as me hitting him. I just stood there laughing while they hurt him.”

  “His parents called the police.” She says and the way it’s not a question makes me think she remembers more than she’s letting on. I always knew she was aware of all of my secrets, at least when it came to the shit going down at home, but this is proof that it extended a lot further than just what happened there.

  She knew just how big of a bully I was to everyone else too.

  “Yeah. He ratted us out and the cops showed up. Dean beat the shit out of me with the belt that night. He asked how many times I kicked Sammy and when I told him, he hit me twice as hard with the belt the same amount of times.”

  Twisting my arm around my back and running it across my spine, remembering the look of fiery rage in my brothers eyes that day after the cops talked to my mom and left, I stop when my fingers brush against where Belle’s hand is resting.

  “How many times?” she whispers and there’s no missing the emotion threatening to spill out as she asks it.

  “Thirty-five.”

  “Kay…”

  “No. I deserved it, Belle. God, with how he looked back then, I deserved a lot worse than the lashes and welts I got. I should have burned for what I did to him.”

  “What you did was wrong, Kay, but responding to that with more violence is worse. What Dean did to you wasn’t the right way to handle it.”

  I don’t know if it’s her words or my own guilt over what happened with Sammy, but it’s like the walls are closing in around us. The bathroom feels even smaller than it is and I’m struggling to breathe.

  I need to get out of here before it swallows me whole.

  It’s even worse because, it’s there too. Just like it was then.

  The smell of bleach.

  Shifting away from Belle, I look toward the door and back behind me. My eyes darting everywhere they can in the few seconds after it hits, just waiting for the moment when Dean is going to jump out and tell me that the only way to disinfect the lashes that are now bleeding is to pour bleach on them.

  Fuck, it stings.

  Burns.

  Scratching at my arms and reaching around to my back again, I start to attack the skin until Belle’s hand lands over mine a
nd gently pulls them away.

  “Where are you right now, Kay?”

  “It hurts.”

  “What does?”

  “The bleach. God. Get it off me. Please.”

  I feel the wetness on my face before my brain fully registers what’s happening and where there had once been warmth, everything has suddenly become deathly cold.

  That was it. Her limit. She’s gone.

  Feeling a pull on my hand, I turn and look toward it and that’s when I see her. She’s not gone. She’s still there, attempting to use what little body weight she has to pull me and all of mine up. Pulling me away from the abyss I just dived into.

  “Belle…”

  “If your brother wasn’t already rotting in prison, I would have half a mind to find him and bury him under it for what he did to you. I never knew. I knew things were bad, Kay, I did. I saw the cops showing up, I saw the marks on you even when you weren’t with me anymore, but I didn’t know it was that bad. I…” her voice fades out and my brain begins to scream, begging and pleading with her to speak again so that I can find my way out of this.

  This fucking nightmare I created.

  “I should have done something sooner.” She rasps, the familiar delicateness of her tone completely stripped away until there’s nothing but emptiness left.

  A way I know all too well.

  Rising to my feet, slipping my fingers through hers and tightening the hold, I force myself to take control of the situation. The thought of her being pulled into this with me is too much to bear. I need to do what she tried to and get us out of here.

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “It’s not yours either.” She whispers as our eyes meet.

  I may not agree with what she’s saying, but if it means getting the hell out of this bathroom and the memories that have now overtaken it—overtaken us, I’ll say whatever she needs to hear. I can’t let her fall any deeper into this. I’m sick enough inside knowing that it touched her at all.

  She was never supposed to know any of this.

  “I think we’ve had enough of the journal for one night.”

  With the slight nod of her head, her body falls into line with mine as I turn and head for the door. The second we make our way through, allowing myself the brief luxury of inhaling the air deeper than I think I ever have before.

  What was in my journal. What brought me to the bathroom, and every bit of what happened in there, it has to stay there. I have to lock it away.

  Remember her earlier words.

  We’re not those people anymore.

  “Kay?” she asks softly as we near the door to our room. My name on her lips causing me to pause mid step.

  “Yeah?”

  “Will you do something for me?”

  This girl. When is she going to learn that I’ll do anything for her? That all she has to do is ask and it’s hers?

  “Anything.”

  Slipping her hand out of mine and taking a step back, she closes her eyes, breathing in deep before exhaling and repeating the motion three more times before opening them. Her lips raising softly into a smile as she steps toward me. Her fingers sliding themselves under the ends of my shirt and lifting until working together, we’ve slipped it off and to the floor.

  “Belle, what are you doing?”

  Backing up again, she slowly walks in a circle around me, pausing in her second go around when she reaches my back. As her fingers trace all of the lines etched into my skin from the years of it being done, I shiver before tensing.

  “What did you want me to do?” I repeat, hoping she’ll take the hint and put me out of my misery.

  Slipping her hand through mine, she walks us into our bedroom and after closing the door behind us, motions to the bed.

  “Sit.”

  “Why?”

  “You’ll see. Just please sit for me.”

  When I do as she asks, she makes her way around the side, the bed dipping in when she climbs on top of it and moves over to where I’m sitting on the edge. Her face angled perfectly with the side of my neck as she places the softest of kisses on my skin, setting it ablaze.

  Making me burn the way I did in the bathroom earlier, but for a completely different reason.

  There’s no rage or hatred behind her touches or behind this burn. It’s all desire now.

  All Belle.

  “Every mark, every indent, and every scar you have. I’m going to kiss them all, Kay. Place my lips over every one and with the kiss, take away all of the pain associated with them so that only the feel of my lips, the love that I have for you, and the trust that we’ve built, remains.”

  Closing my eyes as she begins, I fall into her words and let her do what she said.

  I let her chase the darkness away.

  Chapter Seven

  “Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?” Belle asks for the hundredth time since I dropped it on her before breakfast.

  “Yeah, baby. It’s the only way.”

  I’m pretty positive it’s not the only way, but in order for me to be able to move past what happened last night, and from the guilt that’s been eating me alive, it’s the only way that works for me.

  Owning my mistakes is not as hard as I thought it would be. I struggle with it only because I never should have made these mistakes in the first place. I feel bad for every single wrong turn I made. Every person I hurt. Every bit of hell I put them through with my words and physical actions.

  It just sucks because you own it, but owning it in words never seems like enough.

  It all comes down to what Belle told me before. Actions do speak louder than words, and I’m still struggling with what the right actions are to show that I really regret the things I did.

  Sure, saying it won’t happen again and living my life in a way that proves it, should be enough, but it never is. Not for me. I want to find a way to make even more of an impact.

  Belle says that’s what my major in school is about. That my impact is being made in wanting to work with kids like me. The ones that the world seems to forget about. The ones society wants to label and throw under a bus instead of working with for a better outcome.

  I think she’s right. I just wish it didn’t take so damn long for the impact to be made. I want to race toward that end goal instead of baby stepping it the entire way the way it feels like I have been.

  It began with Belle three years ago, and now it’s going to happen again with Sammy.

  Even if it is ten years too late.

  “What are you going to do if he slams the door in your face?” Belle asks, leaning back in her chair and bringing her mug of tea to her lips. “Or worse, he doesn’t even remember you?”

  I’ve thought about that. Not remembering me would seem like the best possible outcome, but knowing that I’d be making him remember the shit I put him through in an effort to atone for my fucking sins, actually makes it the worst. I’d be bringing up things better left buried.

  I’d almost welcome the slam of a door in my face against that.

  “If he slams the door in my face, I knock again. I don’t stop knocking until I make him hear me out. I actually expect him to do that, Belle. Hell, I expect him to punch me. God knows I deserve it. Whatever his response is, I’ll handle it.”

  Bringing the cup to her lips again, she seems to accept my answer as she takes another swallow before placing it back down onto the bar.

  “Kay…I don’t want to make anything worse, but last night, something pretty big happened and I think we should probably talk about it before we go.”

  “I know, and we will, I promise. Just not yet.”

  “How are you feeling today?” she changes the subject.

  “Healed.”

  I’m pretty blunt with my words. Like, I’ll tell you straight up how I’m feeling and not give much thought to the actual words I’m using when I do it. But just like I’ve done in the past with her, I’ve done again with just the use of one word.

  H
er cheeks are heating up and changing shades.

  Admitting that what she spent over two hours doing last night helped me heal is getting to her in the best possible way.

  Placing a gentle kiss to the side of my face that’s desperately in need of shave, she leaves the moment where it is and switches topics.

  “So after we get back from visiting Sam, I’m going to love you and leave you.”

  “Why?”

  “Mom called while you were in the shower. She needs someone to look after Tristan.”

  Well, this is different. It’s not exactly the first time Belle has had to watch her brother since she moved in with me, but it is pretty rare. Usually when they’re together it’s because she’s the one wanting time with him and not because her mom needs help.

  If there was ever a parent that needed a break, it’s definitely Grace Reagan.

  Glad she’s finally taking it.

  “What’s going on?”

  “She’s got a date?”

  “Say what?”

  “Yeah. That’s what I said when she told me.” Belle laughs. “It blew my mind.”

  “That’s a good thing, right?”

  “A great thing. She’s been alone for too long.”

  We don’t really talk about Belle’s dad. The same way I am about my own piece of shit father, she seems to be with her old man. It’s not a topic that comes up, unless it’s in passing. All I know for sure is that my girl made the choice years ago to distance herself from him for everyone’s sake and hasn’t looked back since.

  “Alright, well why don’t you just bring him over here when we get back? It’s been awhile since he’s been over.”

  “I thought about it, but didn’t want to push.” She admits softly and her words are like a punch to my gut. No matter what way I look at them, it all comes back on me.

  Tristan’s lack of trust in me and my episode last night. They’re causing her to react in ways she shouldn’t have to.

  “Belle, if this is about last—”

  “It’s not.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m positive.”

  “Then bring him over. Unless you just want to spend time alone with him. I’m good either way. You know how I feel about him.”