Scarred Love

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Scarred Love Page 12

by M. S. Brannon


  I turn on my heel and take a slight step back. “Hey, Grady. Are you ready to race?”

  “I’m ready whenever you are, baby girl.” He winks at me and traces his fingers down my arm clasping my hand. My pulse quickens and I’m struggling to catch my breath as Grady tightens his grip on my hand. It’s not hard, but it feels like he’s claiming me. I hate being touched. The fear is bubbling to the surface as panic is on the brink of breaking through.

  “Darcie? Are you alright?” The sound of his voice snaps me away from the dark road I was about to take. Reggie is standing close and has his hand on my upper arm, heating my skin. The pad of his thumb is gently stroking away my meltdown. The cloudiness in my eyes dissolve as the aqua blue irises penetrate through my darkness, beacons of light in my world of black.

  “Who the hell are you and why do you have your hands on my girl?” Grady bites as he steps closer to Reggie.

  Reggie doesn’t break his gaze from mine as he answers Grady through gritted teeth, “Don’t worry about who I am, worry about how you’re treating Darcie.” I need to intervene and stop the train wreck from happening, but I’m captivated by Reggie.

  Clasping my hand even tighter, Grady steps to Reggie and he’s forced to look him in the eye. Reggie’s eyes are murderous. The veins are pushing to the surface of his forearms and, at any moment, Reggie is going to snap. I can hear Jake snickering in the background, he wants nothing more than Reggie decking Grady, but I can’t let it happen.

  Acting on impulse, I step between the two towering giants, still holding Grady’s hand. I put my other hand on Reggie’s chest. His skin is boiling underneath my touch and his chest is heaving with every breath. “Reggie…it’s okay. I’m fine,” I whisper, trying to get his attention away from Grady.

  His eyes meet mine and I try to calm him down by rubbing gentle circles with the tips of my fingers. “Are you sure you’re fine? Your eyes were telling me otherwise,” Reggie says.

  I hate how he can see right through me. I hate how my eyes can betray anything my mouth says. “Yes…” I whisper and break his gaze. “I’m okay.”

  “Yeah, you hear that, man? She’s fine. So step the fuck away from my girl before I make you,” Grady spits.

  Reggie lets out a deep sigh. “Now I see what Jake was talking about the other night; he was right.”

  “Right about what?” I inquire.

  “I think you know,” Reggie responds and steps back to Natasha, wrapping her in his arms.

  What did Jake say? I remember him calling me a whore, he had some choice words about Grady, and then he accused me of being a traitor. Is that what Reggie is referring to? Is he saying I’m a traitor? Or a whore?

  Before my mind lets me ponder too much, Grady is dragging me away from my friends and over to his car. “Get in,” he says shortly.

  “What? I told you I’m not riding with you.” My patience is running out with Grady. I look back to Reggie who is burning me with his intense glare. He scoops Natasha up in his arms and kisses her deeply. With a heavy, broken heart, I look over to Grady and give him the fakest smile I can. “Just kidding. I can’t wait. Let’s get this race started.”

  Grady bends down and plants a kiss on my hand then helps me into the car. He takes his place at the helm as his Hemi Cuda roars to life. I take one last look at my friends and the love of my life as we peel down the straightaway. Maybe they’re right. I really am a traitor. To whom, I’m not sure.

  Chapter 22

  Reggie

  The decision to go to the race was not hard. The bar was dead. Michelle and Gavin had a few customers sitting at the bar, but otherwise, the place was deserted. Big Mike and I haven’t been able to catch a race all summer and we both needed a night away. Besides, I knew Darcie would be up there and I so badly wanted to see her. I wanted to spend time with her like we used to; making our own bet on the race, laughing and having a couple of drinks. She is so much fun just to hang around with. Once she came around from the shock of what happened with her stepfather, the boys and Darcie really bonded and I think it was because of her unique personality.

  The decision I had to make was whether or not to take Natasha with me. She has practically lived at the bar since we fucked. Initially, I didn’t want anything else to do with her, but she’s not so bad to hang around. She talks mostly about herself or anything of non-interest to me so it’s easier to cope with my raging thoughts and let her nonsense distract my mind.

  Honestly, the only reason I take Natasha with me is to make Darcie feel how I felt when she said she had feelings for Grady McGuire. I knew she was going to be up there with him. When Darcie told me she liked him, it drove me insane. I still can’t sleep at night. Nightmares of them together cause me to wake in a fit of rage. It’s not fair to her for me to be so immature about the whole situation, but I can’t control it. She’s been such a big part of my life.

  I stare down at Darcie when she gets into Grady’s car for the race. Jake is clearly livid with her. He’s pacing back and forth, mumbling every obscenity known to man. He feels Darcie is picking sides against Jeremy, even though Jeremy has refused to race Grady. I, too, feel betrayal in my heart, but it has nothing to do with a race and I have no right to feel that way. Rejected maybe a better word.

  Natasha’s voice is killing me tonight. It’s extra whiney and grating on my nerves. She keeps bitching about how cold she is, but she’s the one who chose to dress slutty in September and then practically begged me to take her to the race.

  “Natasha, I can’t listen to you anymore. Go find another way home or sit in the car. You’re starting to piss me off,” I say, not masking my irritation with her.

  “Janie’s here, I’ll catch a ride with her.” Natasha kisses me on the cheek and walks away.

  Thank God she’s gone. I was on the verge of taping her mouth shut if she said another damn word. In the distance, I can hear Grady and Doug make the turnaround. They are flying back down the straightaway at ninety miles per hour. Grady’s Hemi Cuda flies past the finish line, followed by Doug’s Mustang. The look on Darcie’s face when they cross victory lane is one I will never forget. Happy. She can’t disguise the huge grin stretched across her face and her jade eyes are lit up with excitement.

  Grady gets out of the car, ecstatic from his win, and struts with arrogance as he makes his way over to the passenger door. Darcie doesn’t even get a chance to stand up before he sweeps her up in his arms and swings her around. Unlike earlier when he touched her, she’s got a smile on her face and Darcie doesn’t seem uncomfortable with the gesture. She really is happy with this creep.

  Jake’s been keeping the nip of the cold fall air away with the amber liquid hidden in his flask. I think the only way I’m going to get through tonight without beating Grady’s face in is to get drunk.

  Walking over to Jake, I ask, “You got anymore of that?” Gesturing to the flask in his hand.

  “There’s about a half a bottle of Jack Daniels under the seat in the car. Help yourself.”

  I move to the car and reach underneath the deep seats. My hand sweeps across the carpet and I locate the glass bottle of whiskey. Unscrewing the cap, I look over to Darcie. She’s standing next to Grady and his friends. He’s no longer hugging her, but has a possessive hand on the small of her back. She looks to be closed off, sad even, but it’s not from his touch. It’s the same look she had on her face earlier today. Disconnected and withdrawn from the outside world. She’s lost in her head.

  I tip my head back and guzzle down the whiskey. The burn makes me cough, but I take another long drink. Big Mike comes to my side, eyeing me with curiosity.

  “Take it easy there, Reggie. You still have to get us home.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Mike. I’ll get us home,” I imply, but have no intentions of driving. I need to get drunk and that’s one think I do not do is drink and drive.

  Before we left Old Miller’s Road, I finished off Jake’s bottle of Jack Daniels and bought tequila off some high schoo
l kid. Darcie left soon after the race was over with that fucking weasel and the boys said something about going to get breakfast. Big Mike and a few guys I went to school with stayed, talking about the idiotic stuff we did back in the day. One drink led to several others and, the next thing I know, I’m being driven home and escorted up our back stairs.

  Big Mike’s meaty fist is pounding on the back door and I say with a slurred tongue, “There’s no one here, man. Just leave me…someone will find me.”

  “I’m not leaving you on the back porch like a piece of trash, Reggie. Shouldn’t Darcie be home by now?” Big Mike’s balance is wavering, trying to keep me upright.

  “Who the fuck knows what she’s doing? She’s probably with that asswipe, Graaaadddy.” I purposely drag out his name with much irritation. “I fucking hate that cocksucker.” All the feelings rush through me and my alcohol saturated blood makes the emotions for Darcie and hatred for Grady intensify.

  Big Mike lifts his fist to knock again when the door flies open. Darcie is standing at the threshold wearing tight cotton shorts and a tank top. Her black hair is draped down her back and she has a look of shock on her beautiful face. As the light from the kitchen shines down on Darcie’s arms, shoulders and legs, the raised cigar burns and scars are more evident. Every time I see them, I want to take all her pain away. I want to kill Robert Stein for damaging her inside and out.

  “Finally. Here, this is for you.” Big Mike ushers me into the kitchen and helps me fall into a chair. “Reggie, I’m going to drive your car home.” He looks to Darcie and says, “Please let him know in the morning that I took his car home.” Darcie nods and Mike exits, closing the door behind him.

  Darcie is standing with her arms in front of her body. She’s methodically rubbing her thumb across the deep scar on the inside of her left wrist. An old habit she maintains when she’s mad or uncomfortable. The look of concern on her face is soon replaced with her mask of anger as she continues to study me. Wanting to remove the pained look in her eyes, I reach up and run my thumb over her scar. The skin is soft, delicate and jagged, just like her.

  My body begins to heat, but not in a good way. The whiskey swimming in my stomach is making it churn. Ugh. I need to pass out or puke. I’m not sure which will come first. I bend down to undo the laces of my boots and fall head first onto the floor. Damn! Now I’m pissed off. How can I be such a stupid idiot? I pull my fist back and slam it into the floor. Bones crack and I grunt through my teeth in agony.

  “Jesus, Reggie,” Darcie shouts as she jumps back against the counter.

  “What’s the matter, princess? Am I not as good enough for you? That fucker better not be here, so help me God, I will rip him apart if he’s in your room.” I glare at her. Not because I’m mad with Darcie, but because I’m mad at myself.

  “Grady went home hours ago. I’m the only one here. You’re drunk. Let’s get you to bed and you can insult me all you want in the morning.” Her words make me feel like a dick and the sound of her voice is defeated. She slowly moves over to me, bends as she lifts my arm, and then puts it over her shoulder.

  I manage to make it to my feet and I let my weight fall on her. A burn scar the size of a quarter is visible on the top of her left shoulder. Her body is covered with burns and scars, but for some reason, this one has always bothered me and I’m not sure why. Fury for her stepfather attacks me. “I fucking hate what that bastard did to you, Darcie. I would do anything to take your pain away.”She gasps at my rant, but says nothing.

  The rush of vanilla from her skin engulfs me and I can’t help myself. I lean forward and stick my face into the crook of her neck. The night I tasted her skin floods my brain and I want nothing more than to press my lips into the sweet spot just below her ear. To hear her moan in pleasure and call my name when I plunge my cock deep inside of her.

  Darcie leads me down to my bedroom and sits me down on my bed. “Up,” she says, motioning for me to raise my arms above my head. I oblige. She grabs the bottom of my t-shirt and slowly peels it away from my hot, sweaty skin.

  I stand, preparing myself to taste her lips when she pushes me back down onto the bed. Darcie removes both my boots, tosses them to the floor and yanks the blankets up over my body. It feels like déjà vu from last weekend when I tucked her into bed, and then she kisses me on my forehead. “Goodnight, Reggie.”

  Exhaustion is beginning to set in, but I refuse to let her leave. I need to feel her lips on mine one last time before I’ll never get the chance again. She will soon give herself over to Grady McGuire, and as much as that will kill me, it’s what she needs. I want the intimate time we’ve spent together to be a faint memory for her. It will be her only shot to get out of this Godforsaken place.

  When she leans up to leave, I quickly pull her down, cupping her face in my hands and kiss her with every ounce of love, passion and exaltation. Fireworks erupt. I kiss her hard with want and desire. I wrap my arm around her back, trying to guide her to lie down with me. I want nothing more than to feel her body molded next to mine as we explore each other. She doesn’t allow me, though. Darcie breaks our kiss and I stare into her glistening green eyes. I whisper everything I’m feeling, but I can’t remember my words as I lose my battle with sleep.

  Darcie

  My sleep is interrupted from a pounding knock on our backdoor. I look through the peep hole and see Big Mike struggling to hold up a very drunk Reggie. It’s been quite awhile since I’ve seen him in this condition. I shake my head and pull open the door.

  Big Mike tosses Reggie into a kitchen chair and leaves just as quickly. Thoughts of him with Natasha remind me of how much it hurt to watch them together. He was publicly showing everyone they were together by keeping his arms on her or around her. I’m furious with him. Not that I have any right to be, but I can’t control the jealous feelings stewing inside me. Why can’t it be me? Why can’t I be the one he wants? Now that I’ve recognized my true feelings for Reggie, I hate them. I feel weak and the night he found me I vowed to myself I would never feel weak again.

  I didn’t realize I was rubbing my scar until his hand comes across the tender spot and lightly strokes my skin. The simple action ignites a spark in my broken heart and I fall for him all over again. Reggie is the person who unlocked the handcuffs around my wrists, he saw the injury at its worst and he’s been the only person who can fully take that gut-wrenching pain away.

  I take a moment to really look at him, gauge how drunk he really is. The smell of stale whiskey and cigarettes fills the room. I could get drunk just by breathing the air. Reggie’s eyes are bloodshot and he can barely keep his lids open. Each time he blinks them, they stay closed a few seconds longer. Reggie opens his mouth to say something and in slow motion he tips forward, cracking his head on the tile. I suppress a laugh. Yeah, he’s gone. The humor in the situation vanishes, though, when he slams his fist into the floor. Damn! I wouldn’t be surprised if he broke his hand.

  Whiskey is an evil concoction, and from experience, it can make the calmest person morph into a villainous creature. Reggie’s not immune to this and, come to think of it, neither am I. When he does finally say something it’s not the typical Reggie comment. Taking a deep breath, I talk myself down from my anger. It’s okay, Darcie, let his insult roll off your shoulders. It’s because of the whiskey, blame the whiskey. If he truly feels that way tomorrow he will have no problem communicating it.

  I guide him off the floor and we start heading down the hallway to his bedroom, ping ponging into the walls along the way. My breath is nearly ripped from my chest when Reggie seethes, “I fucking hate what that bastard did to you, Darcie. I would do anything to take your pain way.”Then, before he leans into my neck, Reggie places a faint kiss to the cigar burn on my shoulder. He’s not making falling out of love with him an easy task. With every gesture, he’s making me fall deeper into his abyss and it will take a miracle to get myself out.

  I take my time guiding his shirt over his head. Suppressing the desire to ben
d down and lick his abs. Reggie collapses on the bed as I soon as I get his t-shirt off. Once his boots are off and a blanket is over his body, I lean down and kiss his forehead. God, I love this man. He’s been such a strong presence in my life and I’m not sure how I can ever let go of that. I open my mouth to confess my darkest secret to him; to tell him he’s the one I want, the love of my life. Judging by the lack of motor skills from the whiskey, it will be something he’ll forget as soon as morning hits.

  Readying myself to walk away, I’m suddenly being pulled down toward Reggie’s lips. Like a moth to a flame, I can’t look away. The palms of his hands guide me closer to him then our lips touch. My mouth has felt naked without his contact and I can’t stop myself from kissing his lips. He is my drug and I’m utterly addicted to him, to this. We kiss long and hard. He tastes like Jack Daniels and mint. The combination is intoxicating. Reggie wraps his strong arms around my waist, tempting me to lie next to him. The rational part of my brain catches up with me before my body is ready.

  What we’re doing is wrong. He’s extremely drunk and won’t remember this in the morning. I can’t allow myself to keep going, to explore what could happen. Not if I want to mend the shattered pieces of my already broken heart. I put my hands on his chest and push myself away from his lips, instantly feeling the separation. Reggie’s eyes begin to close and just before he passes out he says, “I’ll love you forever, Darcie.”

  My eyes fill with tears from his sweet words. I open my mouth to confess my devotion to him when Reggie rolls to his side and falls into a deep sleep. Disappointed, I walk backwards into the hallway, closing his door behind me.

  As I move into my room, I start pouring over his words. I’ll love you forever. Those four simple words have left me in a state of confusion, elation and complete shock. I am…stunned. He loves me? But how? Does he love me as a friend? Or does he love me the way I love him? From the depths of his soul. Reggie said my name during his intoxicated confession, so I know he’s referring to me, but how?

 

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