Wargasm

by Sosie Frost

  Was that before or after the entire town berated Rem? “It was going good until you accused him of taking advantage of me. You remember…when you insulted him in front of the family and the little girls he was raising?” The words ached. I gave up. “Doesn’t matter. You were right. Happy now?”

  “If you think I’m happy that you’re upset—"

  “Forget it.” I batted Jules and his dusty feet away from my area rug and leaned against the window. “I knew he was bad news five years ago.”

  “And now?” Jules asked.

  “He’s even worse.”

  “Do you really believe that?”

  “Don’t you?”

  Jules smirked. “Well, yeah. But I always thought he was one paycheck short of becoming a criminal and one cigarette too many to be a choir boy.” He paused. “But you never believed that.”

  Tidus teased me, his voice pitched chipmunk high. “He’s changed, guys. He’s different now.” I pitched a water bottle at his head. He caught it with a grin. “What do you really think, Sassy?”

  If I spoke it out loud I’d need a pint of Ben and Jerry’s to get through the conversation and then another to wash down the bitterness.

  “I think he’s a good man and a complete idiot,” I said.

  Jules didn’t argue. “There it is.”

  “I’m serious. He’s hellbent on living this life of isolation, like he’s ashamed of himself or what he’s done. He doesn’t think he’s a good influence on the girls—he won’t even go over to Emma’s and visit them. He’s constantly lying to hide what happened in the past…”

  I stared outside, over the farm, admiring the landscaping and hedge work Jules had done. It looked nice. Neat. Like how Dad used to have it. When life was simpler, and I had all the time in the world to let myself get hurt.

  “He’s more of an idiot now than he was five years ago,” I said. “Like he has a reason to act so selfishly.”

  Tidus tossed the water bottle to me. I took a quick swig. It didn’t stop the inopportune hiccups.

  “Look, Cas, there’s a lot you don’t know about Rem.” Tidus cracked his knuckles. Nervous. Looked like he’d wanted a smoke, but Quint had stuffed his cigarettes down the garbage disposal in the heat of a fight. “He is a good guy—he really is. Deep down. I know Jules doesn’t believe it, but I wouldn’t be the man I am today without him.”

  I believed him.

  I wanted to believe Tidus.

  But what good did it do now?

  “It doesn’t matter.” I puffed a lock of hair out of my face. “Who can even remember five years ago?”

  Jules raised his hand. Tidus smacked his shoulder.

  “He doesn’t want to change,” I said. “He doesn’t want to make this work. He says he’s running to protect us, but he won’t say from what. So fine. I won’t make him stay. I put my life on hold for him once. I can’t do it again.”

  Jules nodded to the suitcase against the wall. “So you’re leaving too?”

  “What do you think I should do?”

  “There’s a farm here that could use some work.”

  “I’ve been working the farm, Jules. Maybe not cutting back the trees and tilling any dirt, but…” God, why did the tears have to come now? Everything was always so much easier if I didn’t talk about it. Maybe Rem had it right. “I took care of Dad day in and day out. I made his meals. I helped him shower. I gave him his medicine. I was with him when he died. Maybe I didn’t plant corn, but I held this farm together for as long as I could.” My throat tightened. “And none of you were here to help.”

  Tidus looked away, but, for the first time, Jules didn’t. He took my hand, tugged me close, and kissed my forehead.

  “We’re here now, Cas,” he said.

  And it made it better.

  And worse.

  And so much harder.

  Jules still gave me the option. “What will you do?”

  I sucked in a reluctant breath. “Why would I stay? Dad’s gone. Every day is a struggle. No one is happy, and I’m trapped in the middle. Don’t I deserve a chance to have a life too?”

  Tidus was better with a fist-to-jaw than a heart-to-heart. “That’s our fault, Sassy. We can make it better for you. Make the effort.”

  “You wouldn’t just leave, would you?” Jules remained stoic, but I heard the worry. “You’re the only one who knows where Dad kept anything. Without you, I wouldn’t have found the five-grand taped under the mattress.”

  Tidus scowled. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. You found five grand? Where is it?”

  “I put it in the tax fund.”

  “What tax fund?”

  Jules lost his patience. “You like this house?”

  “It’s okay.”

  “You like the land?”

  “I’ve seen better.”

  “Well, right now it’s all you got, and if you don’t want Sawyer County to own all of it, yeah. We need a tax fund.”

  Tidus without a cigarette in his mouth tended to talk more than he should. “We don’t got a working hot water heater that can handle six people in a house, but that’s just fine. We’ll freeze our dicks off while you hoard money.”

  I groaned. “Tidus.”

  “Sorry. Freeze our asses. Gender-fucking-neutral.”

  “This is what I mean!” I meant to redo my pony tail. Nearly ripped my hair out instead. “This constant bickering. All the time. Can you blame me for wanting to leave? For needing to get away from this negativity? If this keeps up, every fruit and vegetable we grow will be just as bitter as all of you!”

  “So that’s it?” Jules crossed his arms. “You’re gonna look us in the eye, bitch about Rem taking off, and then follow his example.”

  “Why not?”

  Jules tightened his jaw. “One word. Marius.”

  Son of a bitch. I knew he’d throw that in my face. Just like Rem. Just like them all.

  They assumed I’d just drop everything to take care of the family.

  No fights. No protest. Not even a simple question asked in honest and good faith—Hey, Cassi, do you think you could help Marius while he recovers?

  I’d done it before, so I must have wanted to do it again. I must have wanted to sacrifice and scrimp and save and put everything on hold for a family that refused to stay together.

  They wouldn’t talk unless I locked them in a room. They wouldn’t work together unless they meant to destroy my relationship with the only man I’d ever loved. They wouldn’t even pray together over their injured brother, suffering in the hospital with a devastating prognosis.

  Something had to change.

  And it started now.

  I grabbed my suitcase and tossed it at Jules.

  He ducked, but the luggage bounced off his side and rattled to the ground. The tape didn’t hold. It popped open.

  Empty.

  “I’m not going anywhere, you jackasses.” I met both of their stunned gazes. “But I’m not taking care of Marius.”

  The silence crackled. I let it pass with a single, steady breath.

  “We are going to take care of Marius,” I said. “Together. Not just me, but everyone. We’re a goddamned family. We might hate each other, but for Christ’s sake, we’re not going to abandon one and other.”

  Tidus didn’t hesitate. He swept me into a hug and swore.

  “Thank Christ,” he said. “Now I don’t have to stalk you through Ironfield.”

  Jules wasn’t good with anything emotional, but he gave me a smile. “You’re right. We should all pitch in. Take care of Marius…and take care of you.”

  “I’m fine,” I lied.

  “I know what you want to do.”

  “Create a schedule for the showers?” I smirked. “Claim my own shelf in the pantry?”

  Jules frowned. “You want to stop Rem.”

  The room suddenly felt a little too tight. I hardly had room to pace, let alone bare my soul.

  “I can’t stop Rem,” I said. “It’s his decision.”

&nb
sp; “Even if it’s the wrong one?”

  “I don’t want to hurt him anymore than he’s already hurting. He’s ashamed of himself, and he thinks he’s a bad influence on me. I can’t watch him destroy his life. The life we might have had together.”

  “Do you love him?” Tidus asked.

  “Always and forever.” A lump formed in my throat. “But telling him won’t work. He has to figure it out for himself. He needs to heal. Forgive the past. I can’t do that for him.”

  Hard to be alone in a house filled with five brothers.

  Hard to be sad when each of them did their best to cheer me up.

  Hard to let go of everything I’d ever wanted, the love I’d dreamed about, and the future I’d deserved.

  Absence might have made the heart grow fonder.

  But abandonment just made it break.

  21

  Rem

  The phone rang.

  And rang.

  And rang.

  My head raged against the damn kiddie jingle—Cassi’s idea of a joke, replacing my rington with some sort of Telli-Tubby-Elsa-Disney-Wheels-On-The-Wiggles shit. Hell if I knew the name of the song. It was loud. It was pissing me off. And it was half past fuck you in the morning.

  I fumbled for the phone and grumbled a profane greeting.

  No one answered.

  But a kid was crying in the background.

  No.

  Two kids.

  I bolted up in the bed, squeezing the phone.

  “Emma?” The groggy cleared from my voice. No longer drunk, but an hour short of a massive fucking hangover. “You there?”

  Nothing. More crying.

  My gut turned, and it wasn’t the alcohol. I pushed myself from the bed and headed to the bathroom. A cold splash of water did nothing to fix my face—tired, worn, and hating the one staring back.

  “Em?” I raised my voice. “Are you there?”

  Her mumbling was breathy and slurred. “Rem…”

  Shit. What the hell had happened?

  “What’s wrong?”

  She groaned something, smacked her lips, and went silent, a labored breath echoing from her side of the call.

  “Son of a bitch.”

  I wanted to tell myself she was sick.

  A flu. Strep throat. Fever.

  But I wasn’t stupid. I recognized the sounds because I’d been there before. Four years ago. In the same damn spot, in the same damn way, trapped in that same fucking spiral.

  Emma had relapsed.

  And the kids were crying.

  “I’m coming!” I shouted into the phone.

  I doubted she could hear me. Doubted even more that she’d care. But I did. It soothed me. Calmed my racing heart despite that utter fucking terror that iced my veins.

  I tripped over my bags in the bedroom. Christ. I’d almost left today. Decided to stick around because I had a couple last beers in the fridge and because…

  Didn’t matter why.

  Didn’t matter that I thought about Cassi. That I regretted every minute she wasn’t warming my bed. Didn’t matter that I knew I’d broken her heart. Again.

  I couldn’t let myself wonder what if.

  What if I apologized? What if she took me back?

  What if we had a chance?

  At least that indecision had kept me in Butterpond. Had I been traveling…had I left the state…

  Emma was out. The kids were alone.

  No more what ifs.

  I pulled on a pair of jeans and tossed a flannel shirt over my shoulders. Loathe as I was to do it, I dialed the Sherriff while tugging on my shoes.

  The emergency line had forwarded to Samson’s personal cell. It took him a good minute to answer.

  His greeting was just as uncouth. In another life, a less fun life, we might have gotten along.

  “It’s Remington Marshall,” I said.

  “Aw shit.”

  “Evening to you too.” I gritted my teeth as I bolted for the truck. “Look, I got a problem.”

  “It’s the middle of the damn night, Marshall.”

  “It’s Emma.” I bit the words. “She’s in trouble.”

  “As usual.”

  “Don’t fuck with me.” The truck roared to life. It wasn’t safe to speed down the pitch-black mountain. I floored it anyway. “I’m heading there now. Might need an ambulance.”

  “That bad?”

  “I know you think we’re trash, that we’re no good, that we’re some sort of scourge on the town because our daddy drank at home instead of at Renegades with the good ol’ boys…but she’s in trouble.”

  “Got no problem helping someone who needs help, Marshall.” Samson huffed. “Only got a problem with a smart, capable boy who ran away because he thought it’d make him a man.”

  “Don’t let Emma suffer for it.”

  “Neither of us would let that happen. I’ll call for an ambulance.”

  I didn’t thank him. He didn’t expect it. I ended the call and sped down the mountain, headlights blasting over the bumpy and potholed roads.

  I was twenty minutes from town.

  Twenty minutes of a thumping heart.

  Twenty minutes of cold sweat.

  Twenty minutes of imagining the words I’d need to explain to a three-year-old why her mommy wasn’t waking up.

  And if she died...

  I slammed a hand on the steering wheel.

  No. I wouldn’t let the worst-case scenario rot in my brain.

  The kids cried as I pulled in the driveway. Heard them from outside the house, but it was a shitty rental. The one level ranch kept them warm, but it needed a coat of paint, better windows, a new roof, and someone on the inside who could stay sober for two damn weeks at a time.

  I expected worse. The living room was in toddler-order—blankets and pillows randomly tossed on the floor. A box with crayon doodles in the corner. A rainbow assortment of blocks scattered over the carpet, just waiting for an unsuspecting foot. The furniture was second-hand, and the carpets stained, but the only problem was the reeking stench of too many cigarettes. Emma only gave up one vice at a time, apparently. Not great around the little kids.

  “Emma?” I called through the house. “Where are you?”

  The girls wailed from the back of the house. I hurried down the hall, crashing through the door to my sister’s bedroom.

  My sister had collapsed on the bed, wearing only a bra, jeans, and one shoe. The needle was on the nightstand. Who needed dignity when they had drugs?

  Mellie sobbed on the floor beside her mother. I scooped her up, earning a higher pitched shriek until I shushed her.

  “It’s okay. It’s Uncle Rem. I got ya.”

  Mellie, red-faced and panting, pointed at Emma. “Mommy!”

  My heart broke. I pushed Mellie’s head onto my shoulder, away from the sight. “I know. It’s okay.”

  I leaned down and gave Emma a push. Getting ashen, but she was still alive.

  Was that better or worse?

  I pulled Mellie from the room and set her on the floor in the hallway. Poor thing wasn’t even wearing pants. Just an oversized t-shirt, panties, and one sock. She was shivering. Crying. Snotty. Hiccupping.

  What the hell had she been through?

  “Mommy’s gonna be okay. She’s sleeping.” I smoothed her hair. “Let’s check on Tabby.”

  My chest ached. Tabby wailed from her crib. Filthy. She’d soiled her diaper sometime during the afternoon or night, but Emma hadn’t been sober enough to change her.

  I picked her up anyway, trying my hardest to soothe the tiny girl, flushed pink, uncomfortable, and scared. Tabby’s chubby little arms wrapped around my neck, and she buried her face against me.

  Mellie dove at me too, her hug tight around my legs.

  What the hell had I done?

  I let them go.

  Hadn’t considered Emma’s health or stability. Hadn’t checked in on her.

  I wasn’t even going to say good-bye.

  I th
ought nothing could hurt more than packing their little clothes and toys and sending them back to their real home.

  Except this.

  This tortured me.

  How could I have let this happen to them? The two innocent girls already bore the last name of Marshall. One strike in the book before even hitting preschool.

  They deserved so much better than a dirty home, an unstable parent, and an uncle too terrified of his mistakes to see what he could give them.

  A good life.

  A healthy life.

  A loving life…

  Together.

  I knelt, welcoming Mellie into my arms. My ass hit the floor, but it didn’t matter. The girls snuggled hard into me, and I squeezed them back.

  “I’m sorry…” My words choked with tears I wouldn’t let fall. Not now. “I’m here, guys. I won’t leave you. I’m gonna be right here for you. I promise. I’m not going anywhere.”

  I owed it to them.

  I owed it to myself.

  I owed it to the past I’d escaped.

  And I owed it to the future I’d make. A future with the girls.

  “Cassi?” Mellie sniffled into my chest. “I want Cassi.”

  I pulled her close, kissing her head. Outside, red and blue lights flashed. Sherriff Samson.

  The night was only going to get worse for them.

  “I know, sweetheart.” I held them tighter. “I miss her too.”

  But not for long.

  I’d made enough mistakes. Lived enough lies. Ruined enough hearts.

  It was finally time for me to fix it. All of it.

  It started with the kids.

  And it ended with Cassi.

  No…

  With Cassi, we’d finally begin.

  22

  Cassi

  A pounding shook the house and woke me at six in the morning.

  That wasn’t unusual. A lot of strange noises came out of the Payne farmhouse.

  Quint’s concerts in the shower. Julian’s menagerie of chain saws and lawn mowers he’d constantly fix on the porch just below my window. Tidus’s never-ending feud with the hundred year old floorboards.

  And Varius…

  I wished I heard him more. It was Jules who kept checking on him, making sure he was just quiet and not measuring out the rope.