She lies down and begins to shake from uncontrollable sobs. Her cries of agony are quiet, but she continues to tremble with every weep. I kneel on the floor and rub her back. I’ve never really consoled anyone before and I’m not too comfortable doing it.
Thinking back to our conversation yesterday, I remember she’s had a lot of changes in her life lately. She was recently uprooted from her cozy life in Memphis after her parents died in a car accident. She hasn’t really talked about who she’s staying with now, but it’s clear to me, life in Sulfur Heights is unbearable for Presley.
Speaking in a soothing voice I ask, “What’s the matter, Pres?”
Presley takes a long, deep breath as she wipes her face with the back of her hand. I lean forward, yanking the toilet paper from the metal holder, and tear off a section for her to use. She sits back up against the wall and folds her legs underneath her body.
“Have you ever just felt completely alone in the world?” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “One moment, I’m going on family vacations, hanging out with friends, and in a split second, it’s all gone.” Presley’s head drops down and tears are reemerging in her eyes. She continues to rub her neck, massaging it with the pads of her fingers. “I have no one, Darcie.”
The sadness in her voice is wearing down my stone heart. When people cry, I tend to run in the opposite direction, not wanting to deal with emotional bullshit, but Presley is different. I knew when I saw her sitting alone yesterday, she needs something. What that something is, I have yet to find out.
I want to help her. I want to be her friend. There is no need for her to suffer in loneliness anymore.
“You have us, Presley. We’re dysfunctional, loud, and slightly crazy, but it’s part of our charm. I can tell you from experience, the Evans boys are the most loving people you will ever meet.” I sit back against the wall and fidget with the hem of my jeans. “Something I’ve learned over the past few years is family isn’t necessarily who you’re legally tied to, it’s the people you want to surround yourself with. The people you know—with every fiber of your being—will do anything for you. That’s what family is and that’s who we are. Let us be your new family, Presley.”
I’m thrown off guard when Presley turns abruptly and wraps her arms around my neck. I reach one hand around and give a stiff pat on the back. Then she wipes her face with the back of her hand and releases a quiet giggle.
“Come on, Pres, let’s get some food.” I pull her off the tile floor and we make our way toward the kitchen.
Chapter 11
Reggie
I slam the garage door shut and blast the stereo. In one fluid motion, I begin landing hard punches into the black, heavy bag suspended from the ceiling. I start out steady, nailing one hand then the other, when events of the last day start invading my thoughts. I’m pissed. I’m pissed at the boys for not keeping Darcie away from that guy. I’m pissed at that guy for putting his hands on Darcie. I’m pissed at Darcie for not listening to anything I say, but mostly, I’m pissed at myself. Last night shouldn’t have happened, especially what happened between Darcie and me.
It was almost impossible to tear myself away from her in the hallway. I know she wants me, but she’s naïve. Darcie has never dated or even come close to it. She’s just fascinated with me. There’s no true attraction. My love for her will always remain, but I can’t be anything more than her friend. She needs to experience life outside of Sulfur Heights, go to college, and live in away none of us ever will.
I pound the bag with all my strength while the sound of the metal hook holding the bag is creaking as it swings from the assault I lay on it. Sweat is pouring down my face, chest and back. Tension starts to exit my body with every blow of my fist, but I keep up with my destruction.
The music is abruptly turned down, and I look up to see Darcie standing by the door. She’s showered, wearing a pair of tight black pants and an oversized t-shirt. Her long, ebony hair is twisted in a bun on top of her head and she’s pissed.
“Are you just going to ignore what happened, Reggie?”
I turn my attention back to the heavy bag, continuing to attack it. I can’t speak to her right now. I don’t want to risk my temper flaring at her again.
“Hey! I’m talking to you!” Her voice is laced with anger as she screams at me.
I punch the bag with hard, controlled blows, sucking in deep breaths. Keeping my tone even, I reply, “What do you want me to say, Darcie?”
She walks from the door and grabs the bag, stopping it from swinging. “I want you to say something…anything!”
I snag a towel off the work bench, wiping sweat off my face. I look in her jade eyes. I love her eyes. “Honestly, it should’ve never happened. I wasn’t using my head.”
“Why?” she whispers.
“Why? Because it’s fucked up on so many levels, Darcie. Because you live in my care, because you’re seventeen and I’m twenty-seven, because it could ruin everything, because it was a mistake; that’s why. Leave it at that.”
“How do you know it was a mistake? How can you ignore what’s been happening between us?”
“Darcie, nothing is happening between us.” I roll my eyes to play the part of the douche bag, but inside it’s killing me not to be honest with her about my feelings. “You’re infatuated because you’ve never been with anyone, and I did it because it’s been a year since I’ve been close to a woman. It’s simply desires of our anatomy. That’s all this is, Darcie. Now let it go.”
Her emerald eyes are glistening as tears start to form in the corners. My bitter words break her innocent heart. I keep my hands on my hips, showcasing my cold-hearted expression, and fighting the urge to hold her. To tell her she’s the only one for me.
Darcie reaches back and connects her palm with my jaw. “Fuck you, Reggie!” Then she slams the door behind her.
I rub my sore jaw and feel the tension start to return in my muscles. I crank the stereo back up and drown out my thoughts one jab at a time.
Chapter 12
Darcie
I am livid. How could he be so callous? He looked directly into my eyes and shattered my heart. His eyes confirmed the cold insinuation of last night’s moment of passion. I admit it was a moment of vulnerability for both of us, but how could he downplay what really happened? Unless, Reggie doesn’t care for me the way I do for him.
I walk into the backyard, looking for a private place for me to break down. I need to be alone. I lift the latch to the metal gate and sprint to the back of the property. My solace is hidden behind a giant oak tree. The leaves crunch under my feet as I lose myself in racking sobs. A cool, fall breeze dusts across my face, sending chills throughout my body. My knees buckle as my body collapses to the ground, shaking with my uncontrollable wail.
It’s been at least a year since I’ve cried, and the only thing I can ever remember shedding tears over was my stepdad. I’ve made strides over the last year, becoming numb to my childhood pain, but this? This is so much worse. The wound is open again. My heart is being subjected to the torture of rejection from the one person who’s supposed to be in my corner. It’s been ripped from my chest and all that’s left is an abyss of loneness, pain and hurt.
Reggie has always been the one person who’s excruciatingly honest with me. He’s never lied about anything. I can trust him, so why do I not believe him now? My mind already knows that answer, but my heart can’t bear to hear the truth. I lift the bottom of my t-shirt and wipe the lonesome tears from my face. Standing on weary legs, I walk back into the house.
Reggie is right. All last night was, was a moment of weakness, a betrayal of our bodies. In the rational part of my brain, I know we could never have a relationship, not after everything we’ve been through and certainly not while I’m still in school.
Luckily, no one is in the kitchen as I make a beeline to my room. I smack into Presley when I fly threw my door.
“Ugh. Dammit, Presley!” I extend my hand, helping her off the floor
.
She studies my face, but she says nothing. I’m thankful for that. I’m not sure how nice I can be in this kind of emotional state.
“When do you need to be home?”
“Oh. Do you want me to leave?” Her face falls flat at the thought of going home.
“No, I just wasn’t sure if you had a certain time to get home.”
“I was hoping I could stay another night. My uncle is out of town for business and it’s pretty lonely at his house.”
“Sure, that’s fine. Do you need to go home and get some clothes? I can see if Jeremy can drive you?”
“Yes, that would be great.”
Jeremy, Presley and Drake hop into the Challenger, taking Presley home to get a change of clothes. I am glad for the moments of peace in my room as I grab my sketch pad and pencils from underneath my bed. I put the graphite to the paper and let my mind takeover my hand. It transports me to last night. I begin to form a picture of Reggie and me kissing in the storage room. He’s bent over me and my legs are hitched up on his hips. Our lips are pressed tightly together and his hand is at the nape of my neck. When I refocus on the picture, it’s a clear depiction of the movie playing in my head.
My heart aches yet again. In reality, I know he can never be mine and I know I have to shake this feeling for Reggie. He’s been my rock for so long and I can’t lose that. Pursuing any form of us would surely break eventually. I tuck the memory in my black portfolio and place it back under the bed. Lying down, I pull the covers up over my head. I need to shut everything out. I need to sleep.
Darcie ~ Age 12
“Darcie, your stepfather does these things because you refuse to listen to anything I tell you,” my mom says while swallowing a handful of pills with her glass of red wine. “Just stay out of his way, be in your room when he’s home and it will give him less of a reason to punish you.”
I’ve been putting up with Robert’s punishments for eight years and I’ve come to the conclusion that I will never escape them until I leave. My mom takes pills and drinks from her bottle of wine several times a day. When she’s not drinking or downing pills, she’s sleeping.
I despise my mother. She’s weak and I fucking hate her.
She tells me I deserve punishments and she’s probably right, but what she’s neglected to tell me is why she allows him to do it. I barely remember what our life was like before Robert Stein, but I know it was never this horrible. We managed to have fun and I never lived in fear. Why did she let Robert change her? Isn’t a mother supposed to protect their child? Once a child is born, isn’t their mother expected to possess this sixth sense, that same kind of sense that can allow women to lift cars off their children? My thoughts fade as soon as she squeezes the ointment on her finger and rubs it onto the fresh cigar burns on my back and thighs. Robert never gave me a reason why he did it other than he couldn’t find his ashtray.
Chapter 13
Darcie
I wake up a few hours later and can hear the joyous laughs of the boys in the living room. I sit on the edge of the bed and stretch my somnolent limbs. My neck is stiff, so I roll it from side to side, loosening the muscles before I exhale a deep breath. Physically, I feel better after I have slept, but my heart still aches from Reggie’s cold demeanor.
I move to the bathroom to brush my ratted hair and wash the tear-stained grime off my face. Jake’s lively voice is traveling down the hall as he’s giving a play by play from his favorite movie, Step Brothers. This brings a smile to my face. As I walk into the living room, the room erupts with laughter as he shows off his excellent Dale Doback impression. Presley’s little body is tucked in the corner of the sectional and her hand is over her mouth, covering her smile, as she tries to suppress a laugh. Drake is sitting next to her; casually putting his hand on her leg and lightly stroking the top of her thigh with his thumb. It’s so charming.
My eyes meet Reggie’s. His aqua blues captivate me, holding me intently in a stare. Reggie is sitting in his favorite chair, freshly showered and looking absolutely gorgeous. His golden hair is down and lightly brushes his muscular shoulders. He’s wearing his signature work clothes; dark jeans, black t-shirt with The Slab scrolled across his delicious rock hard pectorals and black motorcycle boots.
My body is starting to react to the sight of him sitting there, looking at me. I feel a delightful tingle intensify in the hollows of my stomach and move down, heating my core. He doesn’t break our gaze. My heart starts to beat erratically. God, this man is so sexy. I want to take him into my room and put my lips all over him.
I bite down on my lip, trying to suppress the urge to taste him. When a sly smile stretches across his face, I know I’m done. If I don’t walk away now, there will be nothing to stop me from ripping my clothes off and straddling him in his Lazyboy. I quickly tear my eyes away and go into the kitchen. The erotic feelings growing inside me right now are causing me to sweat and pant with wild breaths. I take a glass out of the cupboard, stick it under the faucet and fill the cup with some much needed cool water. Swallowing down large gulps, I let the water leak out of the sides of the glass and down my chin.
Reggie strides into the kitchen, towering over me. After our fight earlier today,I’m not sure how he is going to react to meor me to him. My body wants to discover his, but my mind is screaming to run. I can’t seem to get both to work together, so I just stand there, mesmerized by his presence. Reggie takes the pad of his thumb and runs it along my chin and over my lower lip. I gasp. His touch is electrifying, charging me with carnal desires.
He holds up his thumb showing me the drops of water he wiped off. “You had some on your chin.”
“Thanks,” I whisper.
His eyes have lost their luster, becoming piercing. “No fighting, Darcie. If you can’t keep your anger under control, stay home.” Reggie turns and walks out the door. I can hear the roar of his Camaro as it tears down the driveway and down the street.
My heart pangs with ache, knowing we’re not okay. Maybe that’s all last night was to him, a moment of weakness. Infuriated, I toss the glass into the sink, listening to it shatter. I grab a cupcake off the cupboard and start to unwrap it.
“Darcie!” Jake is yelling at me from the living room. “You’re never gonna believe this shit.”
I walk into the room and lean against the wall with my hand secured on a savory treat. I shove a chocolate cupcake in my mouth as Jake shares his news with me.
“Drake’s girlfriend here is not who we thought she was.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, talking through my cupcake.
“Presley is not a Southside dirt bag like the rest of us. She lives in the roughest neighborhood in Sulfur Heights, Rose Hill Terrace.” His cocky grin appears as my stomach drops and it’s all I can do to swallow my cupcake.
Rose Hill Terrace is a gated compound located up on a large hill that’s close to a small mountain. It’s filled with large mansions, perfectly manicured lawns, pretentious ass wipes and my former torturer. The community overlooks the city and the most affluent residences of Sulfur Heights live in the neighborhood. After my mother married Robert Stein, I spent my early years there and all I see when I look up that large hill is Hell on earth.
Covering my initial reaction, I let out a boisterous laugh. Looking at her, I would have never pinned her as being a part of the Snobs-R-Us club. I give her a wink and say, “Wow, Pres, sorry about that, but I forgive ya.”
“And all along we thought she was a white trash misfit like the rest of us, but turns out, she’s been a fake this whole time. Who knew she was eating from a silver spoon. The only thing you probably worry about is deciding which Mercedes you want to be chauffeured in when you come to school, hey Presley.”
Drake is glaring at Jake for his rude assumptions. “Shut your damn mouth, Jake, before I shut it for you.”
“Come on, Drake. You’ve known this little honey for about two minutes and now you’re ready to pound my face in because I call it like I see
it?”
Drake stands to meet Jake, sizing him up. Their faces get close as they match up toe to toe. “You’ve got no idea what her life is like. You’re not calling nothing, got it? Now shut the hell up!”
Jake’s face flushes red as he challenges Drake. “You better watch what you say to me, Casanova. The biggest mistake a man can make is choosing his bitch over his brother.”
Drake pushes him in the chest, knocking him to the floor. Jake pops up to his feet with vengeance and tackles Drake back to the ground. The overgrown boys begin to roll around on the living room floor, taking swings at each other’s midsection. Presley is sitting on the couch, curled up in a ball, tears pouring down her face. She’s seen more fighting this weekend than she has in her entire life. I can understand why she has the tears.
I stand against the wall, watching the show as I lick chocolate off my fingers. This is a scene I’ve seen played out between the Evans boys on several occasions, but it’s rare for Drake to be involved. When it comes to fighting, there are a couple of things I’ve learned since I’ve taken up residence with these four motherless boys. First, you always let them duke out their problems. It doesn’t matter how much they love each other; if they’re pissed, they can only work it out by slamming their fists into each other. Second, if you’re physically not strong enough to break up the fight, think outside the box.
I grab a bucket from under the sink and fill it with cold water. They’re still wrestling on the ground and Drake’s got the weight advantage on Jake. It won’t be too long now before he’s a worthy opponent for Reggie.
“Okay, guys, knock it off,” I say as I swirl the bucket over their heads. “You’re scaring our company.”
Scarred Love Page 7