finding Reese.: a SAFELIGHT novel vol.2 (SAFELIGHT Series)

by Imy Santiago

  “Have you guys set a date?” Jackson asks, as we board the taxi after spending the night at Stryder’s apartment in the city.

  Stryder looks at Jackson and me, and replies, “Not yet. Hell, Jax, with work and all we haven’t been able to have an engagement party. Trust me, if I had my way, we’d be married tomorrow.”

  Jackson sits back in his seat and remains pensive on the way to the airport, and all the way back home. After an uneventful flight, we land back in Casper in the early evening, and return to our respective homes. This will be the first weekend Stryder and I have been able to spend together since we bought the property. Our jobs have kept us living out of our suitcases for the past year, and it’s a breath of fresh air to see the house we’ve dreamed of slowly convert itself into a proper home.

  As Stryder opens the double doors, he drops our bags in the foyer and wraps his arms around me. “Welcome home, Raven Girl,” he breathes as he squeezes me tight.

  I’m overcome with emotion. Words as simple as those still have the power to make my heart race with happiness. I used to laugh at movies and books when the hero and the heroine uttered words like, “Your love saved me” at the end, and now I scoff at my past self, because it’s very true. Stryder’s love and Jackson’s friendship saved me from living my life in a blur, and taught me to face my fears head on.

  With soft tears landing on my cheeks, I whisper, “Welcome home, Stud.”

  I look at the remarkable man standing before me, and the smile that captivated me the day we met curls his lips. Those beautiful hazel eyes connect with mine, and I can’t help but adore the fierce kindness and love behind them, not expecting or demanding, just adoring and full of unshakable hope. I reach for his hair, and my fingers tangle with those obsidian locks that match my own. I exhale a breath of happiness that makes him smile even wider. “I love you. That is all.”

  His lips crash against mine, his taste mingling with the saltiness of my happy tears. He pulls back for the briefest of seconds to look at me with a determination that has me squirming in place.

  “I always promised myself it would only be a matter of time before I made you mine,” he says before scooping me into his arms and walking us to our bedroom. Kicking the door shut behind us, he lays me down on the plush bed. With a devilish smirk he says, “I’m a man of my word, and I keep my promises. Let’s christen this bed.”

  With the pale of the moonlight filtering through the open windows facing the Casper Mountains, we make love- fast and hard, then low and slow the second time around. Our love grows with each passing day, and while I know nothing in life is permanent or perfect, this comes pretty damn close if you ask me.

  I SIT ON THE STEPS that lead into Hellbenders, waiting anxiously for the guests of honor to arrive. I invited Catalina and Jupiter here using dancing as a pretext. Everyone is waiting inside, and I’m one hundred percent sure neither of them know what’s about to happen.

  No one wants to see them ride off into the motherfucking sunset more than me, and the more time we spend together the more I know there is someone out there wishing and dreaming of me just like Catalina and Jupiter’s dream of each other. There is a special girl out there, and she’s all I can think of since the day we met. Jupiter says he felt the same way the day he met Catalina, but only time will tell. I’m not in a rush; I have all the time in the world. Jupiter’s SUV pulls up to the curb, and with determined steps I open Catalina’s door.

  “You must be itching to dance there, mister,” Catalina giggles when she sees me. I nod like a giddy child, and that makes her laugh even harder. “Okay then. Lead the way, partner.”

  “A word, Jackson,” Jupiter says with a smirk. “Promise me you’ll keep those hands to yourself, yes?”

  I groan exaggeratedly. “Dude, you want me to dance without touching her? Fine. Just don’t laugh when I’m dancing like a fucking penguin. Seriously.” Both of them laugh when I start walking like a penguin keeping my hands pressed to my sides and wiggling around them. “Is this what you want, Jup?”

  Jupiter laughs and pats my shoulder, and wiping a tear brought on by his laughter, he says, “Just kidding, Jax. Oh my goodness. That was funny, man.”

  Catalina snakes her arms around our waists and pulls us close to her. “Shall we do this?” With a bounce in our steps we open the mahogany door that leads into the nightclub.

  “SURPRISE!” everyone cheers as soon as we walk in. Cat and Jupiter look at me with wide eyes seeking answers.

  “It’s your engagement party,” I declare nonchalantly, and urge them to greet our families waiting at the foot of the steps. “Go!”

  They hold hands and happily jog to hug Lizzie, Vincenzo−Jupiter’s folks, and Maddie−Jupiter’s sister, and her husband. I feel a hand tap my shoulder, and when I turn my head, I see Olivia standing right beside me.

  “What the hell are you doing here, Oli? I didn’t invite you.”

  She looks at me with a smug look on her face. “I was in town again, and Kathryn told me the whole family was here. Color me surprised at the fact that you, my brother, didn’t invite me. Regardless of how you feel about me, I’m a part of this family, and I, too, deserve to be here.”

  I lean in closer so that I can whisper into her ear. “It must suck to see the man you fucked over more than once getting engaged and moving on. It must suck that despite your cuntastic ways you never split them apart. I know what you did, and to use me for your petty schemes? That’s just wrong. Now have some dignity and get the fuck out of here. Now!”

  Olivia pushes past me and walks towards Catalina and Jupiter. I run after her, but Catalina’s eyes connect with mine, stopping me.

  “What are you doing here?” Stryder yells over the music. Lizzie places a hand over his chest and pushes him back. And then we all hear a single sharp slap of skin on skin.

  “I’ve had it with you, Olivia Reese! You do not want to see me pissed. Now get the hell out of here, and let us be,” Catalina grits at my sister, who is holding onto her red and swollen cheek with the five finger souvenir Catalina just gave her. “I’ve tried to be understanding, but get it through your thick head. It’s over.”

  Lizzie steps in between them, and Kathy and Kathryn vacate the dance floor to stand by Olivia. I stand there watching with bated breath wondering what will unfold. Our families are tightly knit. These are bonds forged by years of friendship, if not by blood, and this kind of drama has never happened in my family. Ever.

  “Stop being a brat and go home, Oli,” Kathryn says, as she looks at Olivia with pursed lips and her arms crossed against her chest. “If you aren’t the center of attention . . .”

  “Olivia Victoria Reese. So help me God. Get out of here before I drag you out myself!” Kathy threatens through gritted teeth. She points towards the exit. “NOW!”

  Olivia scampers from the group and jogs up the steps, and then runs out of the nightclub. I chase after her because, after all, she is my sister, and even though she doesn’t deserve an ounce of my pity, my heart tightens thinking how humiliating that little scene must have been for her. As I walk out the door of Hellbenders, I stumble on a familiar face- the one I haven’t been able to get out of my head for months. My plus one for tonight. I gave up on the idea she’d actually show up.

  I gaze at her beautiful blue eyes, and my hand instinctively reaches out to touch the soft, perfect porcelain skin of her face. “You came,” I whisper in amazement and disbelief. Her soft giggles make me forget my name and where I am, and why I ran out of Hellbenders in the first place.

  “I did,” she replies with a smile, bringing out the cute dimples in both of her cheeks.

  With a racing mind and a hopeful heart I realize right then and there it’s my turn to find love and start a new adventure, and after all that I’ve been through, why would I deny myself that chance? Acting on pure instinct, I cradle her face with my hands and bring my lips to hers. The connection is soft and tender, and has my heart tied up in fucking knots. As we kiss, I feel he
r hands wrap around my waist, her fingers exploring the ridges of my abdomen through my dress shirt. The more I kiss her, the more I want to know more of her. With ragged breaths, I reluctantly break our kiss, and looking into her gorgeous eyes, I speak the truth.

  “Feel free to slap me now. I couldn’t help myself.”

  “Neither could I, Jax. Neither could I.”

  To be continued . . .

  SPECIAL EXCERPT

  Please enjoy this excerpt from:

  TRIGGER WARNING:

  The following work of fiction contains crude language and violence, and includes subject matter such as Alcoholism, Domestic Violence, Child Abuse, and Anxiety, Panic and Post-traumatic Stress Disorder. The scene you are about to read may trigger certain feelings and urges upon those who have experienced any of the aforementioned. This excerpt is intended for individuals over the age of eighteen. Your discretion is strongly advised.

  Seventeen years ago

  “DOTTIE!” MY FATHER ROARS, AS soon as he opens the front door, and slams it shut−almost rattling it off from its hinges.

  I throw my notebook aside, not caring about the worksheet my stupid math teacher gave our class for homework. I seriously doubt long division will serve any valuable purpose in life when I finally grow up and leave this hell-hole. I sit up in bed. Even at twelve, I can tell what state my father is in just by the sound of his voice. Nah . . . This comes as no surprise, because the truth is, we are used to this. As the saying goes, this is the story of my life.

  “Dottie!” he roars again, his speech slurred−no doubt because he stopped at a bar after work instead of coming straight home. You’d think a detective with the police force would know how to behave, but no, not Timothy Pryce. No one knows him like we know him, and if mom doesn’t respond soon, there will be hell to pay.

  My heart is racing in my chest like a jackhammer because my dad is an impatient man. Blame it on his job, or my mom. I don’t know, but one thing I know is I’ve never met a more hateful, terrible, and scary man. I hear his footsteps coming down the hall, and I know I should get off my ass to run and hide. But I can’t because I’m frozen in place.

  I’m breathing faster, and I’m pretty sure every hair on my body is standing on edge. I reach out for my pencil with a trembling hand; its point is dulled down to nothing. I know that if Dad opens the door, I’m going to say something smart, and then he’s going to remove his belt, and hit me repeatedly. It’s happened so many times before, and I’m always the first who gets to feel his wrath. I’m learning to defend myself, and this stupid pencil is my only form of defense.

  I’m the youngest of four, unplanned and unwanted- or so I’ve been told many times before. Mom tried some creative ways to get rid of me, but in the end, Darwin’s rule of survival of the fittest won. I didn’t ask to be born, yet here I am.

  Dad’s footsteps stop in front of my door, and the round doorknob turns, its characteristic squeak scaring the crap out of me. I release a shaky breath and say a quick prayer. Dear God, help me now.

  Another set of steps come rapping against the beaten hardwood floor. They belong to my mother, and judging by their slow approach, I can tell Mom doesn’t want to be here either.

  “There you are, stupid woman.” I hear my father’s muffled, angry voice through the wooden door.

  “Good evening, Tim,” my mother greets him, in her characteristic saccharine voice. “I was outside. You called?”

  Slap.

  “You watch your tone with me, you stupid bitch,” I hear Dad tell Mom.

  I get up from my bed, ready to open the door to defend my mother. I hear her muted sobs, and I’m positive her hand is already soothing her battered face. But as I stand, a path of wetness stains the front of my pants. I’ve peed myself again. I tiptoe to the door and place my ear against the wood.

  “Why, Tim. Why have you hit me?” Mom cries softly.

  “You’re a stupid woman who doesn’t answer when I call! Now stop acting so fucking injured and get me dinner. I’m hungry and I’ve had a bad day.”

  “Yes, Tim. I made you your favorite. Ribeye steak−bloody just how you like it−with mashed potatoes and peas. I even baked brownies,” Mom whispers, her voice wavering. She clears her throat and says, “Come, Tim. It’s on the hot plate. Would you like a beer, or something else?”

  I can’t hear anything beyond that. I step back from the door. Once I’m standing by my bed, I open my fist and the pencil I was clutching on falls to the floor. It lands on the eraser end and bounces a few times before it lands flat against the floorboards, clicking the stark quiet of my room. As Mom’s and Dad’s footsteps trail away down the hallway, I let out a huge sigh of relief.

  My hands are shaking. I grab fresh clothes with the intention of taking a shower. As I shut the drawers, my sister Amanda Rose knocks on my door. I can tell because she always knocks three times. Grabbing a towel, I cover the front of my pants, and run to the door. I open it and she slips in, her dark auburn hair shielding one side of her pale, tear-stricken face. Her crisp green eyes are red from crying, and her breaths are short, as if she’s holding back sobs.

  I drop the towel and hug my sister. I don’t care if I reek of piss, or if I get her flowery pajamas dirty. My sister is my world, and even though I’m four years younger, I feel the need to protect and console her.

  “Are you okay, Rose?” I whisper into her hair, and at my question, she breaks down. After crying for a bit, I pull back and keep her at arm’s length.

  She looks down at me. “Jesus. You pissed yourself again?” Rose whispers, and looks me in the eye. “Let’s run away, Evan. Just you and me,” she rambles breathlessly. “Any place is better than here. Pack a bag and meet me in my room at midnight. We’ll go out my window, okay?”

  “Okay,” I mumble, feeling uneasy. With a shaky nod, Rose leaves my room and closes the door quietly behind her. I grab my clothes, and open the door, practically racing down the narrow hallway to the bathroom. Once there, I take off my clothes, and turn on the faucet in the shower to heat the water. As I wait, I look in the mirror and what I see disappoints me.

  The image before me is not what I want to see. My body shows years of abuse, and that’s only on the outside. Bruises and welts; starting on my chest and working their way down to the backs of my legs and up my back. I’ve never deserved any of this, regardless of what my parents think or say. There are times where I sit in the darkness of my closet and pretend I live another life far away from here.

  Shaking my head at my reflection, I get into the shower and try to make it fast. If I don’t make it to bed on time, that will be another fight, and the truth is, regardless if Mom steps in to help me, I don’t want to get hit with that belt again. My skin is still tender after the beating I got two nights ago for not taking out the trash. Turning off the faucet, I dry and dress myself in record time, and brush my teeth before I sprint from the bathroom towards my room.

  I climb in bed and turn off the lamp on my nightstand. I listen to my parents’ retreating footsteps; their voices echoing down the narrow hallway. And when they rise, I place the headphones of my cassette player over my head. I rewind the worn tape, searching for my one of my favorite songs, Metallica’s “Nothing Else Matters,” which I’ve played a lot as of late. As the introductory guitar chords play, my eyelids grow heavy, and if only for the briefest of moments, I find peace and drift to sleep.

  Something is shaking me, and when I realize there’s sunlight filling the room, I rub my eyes, trying to wake up. It takes me a minute to find my bearings.

  “Evan!” my mother cries, her eyes open wide and pleading.

  “Mom?” I ask, in between yawns.

  “Rose . . . Where is she?” Mom asks, her voice raised and panicked. “Evan! Answer me!” Mom cries, and that’s when I sit up in alarm.

  “Rose!” I scream as I jump from the bed, my bare feet racing towards her room. I look everywhere for signs of my sister, but she is gone. I sit by the foot of her window, and b
ring my knees close to my chest. I cry hard when I realize what’s happened. Rose left. She ran away without me. Now I have to deal with these two monsters all by myself.

  I wipe the tears away with my knuckles, and when I look up, Dad looks down at me, clutching his black, leather belt with one hand, and the other scratching his beard.

  “Get up from the floor, Evan,” Dad bellows, his anger spreading over me, making my skin crawl. “You are a man, but if you insist on crying like a girl, then I’ll give you a few good reasons to keep crying like one.”

  Splat.

  The first blow of the belt against my leg singes my skin. I want to scream and cry, but I say nothing and I most certainly don’t move an inch. Silent, fat tears drop from my eyes and roll down my cheeks.

  Splat.

  The second blow against the skin of my stomach makes me double over in pain, and as soon as I hit the ground, I lose count of all the blows that follow. I also try to tune out Mom’s wails as she gets a beating of her own for trying to stop Dad from hitting me.

  I never imagined knowing the true meaning of hatred at only twelve, and I, Evan Pryce, truly deeply hate my parents. I hate Rose for abandoning me, and I hate Caleb and Seth, my older twin brothers for going off to college and leaving me here alone with our fucked up parents.

  I hate the world.

  I hate my life.

  A poem by Marian Girling

  Lost in the rhythm of the dance

  Two lovers move

  Hips swaying freely, hands clasped

  She follows where her partner leads.

  Feet move in synchronicity

  Hands flick, grasp, and mime.

  Eyes keep contact with each turn

  Bodies both in time

  Their moves are sinuous and lithe

  Moving as one

  Enthralled, enticed, engulfed

  In the Rumba, the dance of love.