My head begins to spin as I analyze what he said. I lie on my bed and run my hand down my face. My body is fatigued and there’s a constant pounding in my head. I can’t keep going on with the rollercoaster of emotion. I have to talk to him about what he said. If Reggie truly has feelings for me, then it’s time he confesses because I don’t know how much more I can mend the pieces.
Chapter 23
Darcie
Cold Michigan winter begins as September fades into October. The once grass covered landscape is now hidden under a heavy blanket of snow. The trees are stripped of their leaves and left standing naked in the frigid cold air. Sulfur Heights’ residents always hibernate once the temperature drops. You rarely see drug deals on street corners while junkies collect in an abandoned building hovering around their barrel of fire, and the kids who normally run the streets, scatter to the winds. It’s been a month since the last drag race. A month since Grady declared to everyone that I was his girlfriend, and sadly, it’s been a month since Reggie’s drunken confession.
Looking back, the morning after was devastating. I stayed in bed as long as my grumbling stomach would allow and, when I made way to the kitchen, Reggie was chugging down a huge glass of water. He still had bloodshot eyes, tousled hair and a pained expression. Reggie’s pores oozed whiskey and the smell filled the room as I rounded the corner into the kitchen. Although he felt like hell, Reggie still looked amazing to me. He was wearing his jeans from the night before, unbuttoned, the elastic band of his black boxer briefs stuck out, his bare chest rippled under his tattoos, and the V of his abdomen was jaw dropping. Laboring to open the bottle of ibuprofen, I could tell his hand was hurt badly. It looked swollen and sore from the tantrum he gave to the tile floor.
Walking over to him, I took the bottle from his grasp and took four pills out. Reggie’s eyes met mine with gratitude. “Thanks.”
“Your hand looks pretty bad. Do you need to go to the doctor?” I asked while lifting my hand to his.
“I don’t think it’s broke. I’ll just wrap it up and keep ice on it.” Reggie grabbed the first aid kit from under the sink and pulled out a brown bandage wrap, metal clips, and ointment for the cuts. He rested his injured hand on top of the counter and fumbled getting it wrapped around his hand, almost dropping it to the floor.
“Here, let me help you.” I took the bandage from him and began winding it around his swollen hand; pulling it tight enough for support, yet not tight enough to be painful. Reggie’s skin was warm and slightly wet with sweat as I carefully wrapped his hand. Memories of our kiss flashed to the forefront of my mind. His palms against my cheeks, the soft curve of his lips pressed into mine and the taste of whiskey on his tongue. The vision was enough to hitch my breath and make me pause from tending to his hand.
When the cloth bandage was secured, I looked into his eyes and watched the curious sparkle shine back at me. I wanted to ask him if he remembered telling me he loved me. The words were building, but I couldn’t get around the baseball sized lump stuck in my throat. I opened my mouth to ask him, to finally confess my undying love for him, when he took a step back. His eyes moved to the floor then back up to mine, cold as ice. My heart died all over again as he morphed back into the person he was just the day before. Disconnected and withdrawn from me. He thanked me for helping him and vanished down to his room. I cried most of the day and, when the sun finally set, I felt somewhat better.
Since that morning, I have allowed myself to feel the pain. My heart is broken and twisted with anger, but I allow myself to endure it. It’s an impossible task to let myself succumb to a broken heart and admit I do have a weakness. He’s the most beautiful weakness in the world, however. It was minimal relief, but I welcomed it.
Because of my mother I became the person I am today. I refuse to be like her. I will never let anyone walk over me and showing weakness will always be my biggest complex. Reggie helped me get back on my feet emotionally and I will never be able to repay him for what he’s done. Like I’ve said to him from the moment we met, always my knight in shining armor; coming to my rescue when I’m too crazy, too angry or too pathetic to save myself.
From that point on, I decide the best thing to do is focus on getting back into my previous routine. I’ve reverted back to the original plan before my emotional turmoil derailed me, and all focus is on getting out of this Godforsaken town. Channeling all my heartache onto a canvas, I paint the anger and sadness from my heart. Stroke after stroke, my hand transforms a stark white canvas into intricate pictures of all my emotions. I use colors like red, black, purple and green to transplant each feeling from my soul onto the stretched cloth. Now I have quite a collection added to my portfolio, along with the sketches of my beloved hidden under my bed.
Reggie will probably never admit he loves me, and my already damaged soul will never mend again if he says otherwise. It’s easier if I just pretend that night never happened. I give my heart the chance to grieve and, when I paint or sketch, Reggie’s lack of admission for his true emotions comes pouring out of me. It provides me the distraction my mind and heart desperately seek daily. Sadly, when I slip under the covers at night, my mind sees beautiful aqua eyes and it’s impossible to divert the void in my heart. I know I will never stop feeling for Reggie, but I pray that someday the pain will lessen.
During the day it’s easier, only because I mostly avoid him. I use Grady to take me away from the building tension in the house. His nonsense numbs my thoughts and I feel like I can finally escape out of my head. Hiding my emotions has always been a difficult task for me, but when it comes to Reggie the task is impossible. My feelings are an open book and he’s the only one who can read the encryption on the page.
Reggie will always hold the only place in my heart reserved for absolute love. Deep down within myself, I know I will never love anyone as much as I do Reggie. He is and will always be my salvation; the face of peace, happiness and survival. I will love him forever…always.
I’ve been working with Mrs. Jenkins, the school guidance counselor, and she’s helping me prepare for college. Finally taking the advice of a school administrator, I avoid Vanessa and her troop of skanks. I know it will be impossible to get into a college with my track record of fighting, but hopefully, wiping the slate clean will count for something.
Being broke, I have no means to pay for school. Mrs. Jenkins strongly encourages me to apply for scholarships, and yesterday, I received my acceptance letter in the mail for a full scholarship. There are several schools who will take the scholarship I was accepted for. Looking through a dozen college catalogues, I decide I’m applying to any college with an art program and is affordable as well as out of state. The latter is the most appealing. So far, I am leaning toward San Diego State University, Syracuse University or University of Michigan. Mrs. Jenkins encourages me to look into at least one school close to home, in the event something happens and I want to be close to my family. I honestly don’t foresee that in the near future, but I take her advice like I have been all month. I apply to all three schools and let the waiting game begin.
Then there is the Grady McGuire conundrum. Although we failed to have that conversation initially, he just announced to the world I was his girl and that was that. We do spend a lot of time together on the weekends and randomly during the week but I still have the same feelings for him, which amounts to a pile of nothing. He’s too much of an annoying, self-absorbed jerk. So why hang around him? Grady is a great distraction. He never shuts his mouth about anything, he gives me the excuse to stay away from home on the weekends and isn’t bad to look at. Once I leave for college, he will be only a memory and that day can’t come soon enough.
Grady keeps trying to take our relationship to the next level. I am quite proud of myself because I can now tolerate holding his hand and, on a rare occasion, kissing. Well, without having a total meltdown, which is an incredibly big deal. He insists he can wait for me, wait until I’m ready. Does he know that day will never come? Poor, sex
ually frustrated Grady, I know he’s aching to have sex, but on a positive note, he’s formed an excellent relationship with his hand. Ha!
Whenever Grady and I do kiss, I wrap my hand around his neck and transport myself to the night in the storage room with Reggie. I close my eyes and see his golden hair, ocean blue irises and feel his lean, rock hard muscles. Grady’s kisses are nothing like Reggie’s; his lips are a little too eager, not as soft and completely sloppy, but I just shut myself off and think of the one person I really want to be kissing.
Another relationship that is weighing on my conscience is the one I formed with Jake. We’ve always been close and, other than Reggie, he has been my go-to person when the nightmares of my stepfather come back to haunt me, but now, Jake and I have struggled to see eye to eye. He hates Grady and we often argue over something he did or said. Overprotective is taken to the extreme when Jake’s concerned. He’s always hated when guys would say something vulgar or tried to come on to me. Many times it would end with Jake’s fist in someone’s face. I am surprised Grady and Jake have not come to blows yet. I’m not sure if that is Jeremy and Drake’s doing, but he only runs his mouth and has yet to lay a finger on Grady. I try to let his mercurial moods roll off my back. In a twisted way, I know Jake means well.
Presley and I have formed a pretty tight bond since the moment I met her. I feel completely comfortable talking to her about almost everything. Although my past with the stepfather from hell is off the record and will remain the skeleton in my closet that no one is privy to knowing. When I can peel her away from Drake, we spend time listening to music, gossiping about girls from school and getting to know each other as friends. She is the first real friend I’ve had that’s not a boy and, to my surprise, it’s great.
It is a little weird listening to her talk about Drake. She doesn’t go into graphic details, and I thank God for that, but what I do know, physically they’re taking things slow, they’ve confessed their love for each other and he’s an amazing kisser. Gross! Didn’t need to know that about my brother.
All in all, it feels good to talk to someone about my feelings for Reggie and not have to bottle them up. Presley, of course, thinks I need to get my feelings out in the open. Talk to Reggie about how I truly feel for him, that it’s not just an infatuation, but a deep seeded love that will never go away. She insists that, once I bare my soul, he will do the same.
Like we’ve done the last few weeks, Presley and I hole up in my room, stuffing our faces with Doritos and chugging down refreshing Mountain Dew. It’s a staple for the Sulfur Heights high school students and a favorite in the Evans household. She is lying across my bed on her back, her feet propped up on a pillow, the long, brown strands of hair are hanging over the edge of the bed and she is licking the nacho cheese from her fingers. Around us, she is no longer quiet and does an excellent job holding her own when Jake gives her a hard time about her affluent lifestyle. Today she’s wearing her favorite black zip-up hoodie, dark blue jeans, and a her favorite Three Days Grace concert t-shirt. Her fingernails are painted bright red and her make-up is minimal. I shift from my side and lie down next to her, yanking my hair out of my ponytail and letting it flow over the side of the bed. My feet are crossed at my ankles and I drum my fingers against my stomach. “Would” by Alice in Chains fills the background and I get lost in thought. It’s almost like she can read my mind because, the minute Reggie’s face comes into my vision, she brings him up.
“Darcie, I don’t know why you waste your time with Grady. Just talk to Reggie, tell him how you really feel. Stop pretending with everyone…including yourself,” she says with an agitated tone to her voice.
“Because I like feeling numb. Not everyone is going to have the love at first sight shit you and Drake have and Grady is the perfect person to make me feel nothing. I welcome that. Besides, Reggie made it pretty clear that the storage room groping-fest was out of sexual frustration, not love.” I roll my eyes at yet another conversation about the same subject.
Presley counters, “He said he loves you, Darcie.”
“Yeah, he did, when he was falling over drunk and probably wouldn’t have remembered his own name if he was asked. What am I supposed to say ‘Hey, Reggie, remember that night I put you to bed because you were too drunk to function? You said you’ll love me forever…’ I would look like a total jackass. I have no doubt Reggie loves me, but it’s not the same.”
“Darcie, I can see your sadness all the time. I know how hard you’ve been trying to guard your feelings, but I can see it. Don’t you want the pain to go away? It might…if you give yourself closure.” Presley reaches over and grabs my hand in hers. My eyes fill up with tears, but I refuse to let them fall. Not anymore. I can’t cry every time I miss him.
Presley is relentless and continues going on about closure and how it will be easier to move on, or some shit like that. I just ignore her and bask in my world of avoidance. Allowing Lane Staley’s voice to drown her relentless chatter. If I avoid Reggie, the feelings will eventually subside and life will go on.
Chapter 24
Reggie
Life has resumed to some kind of bizarre normalcy after the night I came home drunk off my ass from the drag race. I hardly remember what happened once Big Mike dropped me off at home. Darcie was as beautiful as ever and pissed off at my state of inebriation, but from there, I’ve got nothing except a sore hand and a broken soul. The next morning, I remember more clearly. I woke early to puke my guts out, offended Darcie and then walked out on her, spending the entire day watching ESPN in my room with a pounding headache.
When I looked at her that morning she seemed torn with something she was fighting in her head. Like she wanted to tell me something, but before I allowed her to get the words out, I pushed her way. I shut my feelings off and walked out. Since then, we barely talk and, when we do, its bullshit conversation. When she’s not shut in her room, Darcie is with that pathetic douche bag, Grady. I still hate that prick as much as I did the day I met him. She’s never said or acted like he was inappropriate with her, but it’s impossible to distract my mind when his hands are on her every time she leaves the house.
I will probably harbor jealous feelings forever. Darcie is with Grady and every fiber of my body wants her to be with me. She is the one who I will do anything for, regardless of what it is. She could lie, steal or cheat and it wouldn’t matter. I would save her.
Every time I close my eyes at night, a reoccurring dream startles me from sleep. Darcie is leaning over me, her jade eyes glistening back at mine, and she is telling me something, but I can’t make out what it is. The dream feels incredibly real, but when I wake and focus my eyes, all I see are the plain white walls of my room, sans Darcie.
The bar has been extremely busy now that the weather has turned cold. There’s not much to do during the winter in Sulfur Heights, which means the twenty-one and over crowd always find themselves here. It’s great for business and I’m finally putting more money away than expected. After Robert told me he upped his blackmail price, I was concerned about whether I would take home any profit, but I’m pleasantly surprised. I need to make it eight more months and the shit with him will be over. Darcie will be free of his grasp and there is nothing he can do about it.
It’s Saturday night and the bar is packed full at ten pm. Michelle and Gavin are working their asses off; filling drinks and exchanging money. I step behind the bar to help them out when Natasha moves to her signature spot at the end of the bar. She’s gossiping with her equally hot, but equally annoying friend, Janie. They come almost every night and she tries to recreate the night we had sex, although my body aches to bend her over the desk in my office, my mind tells me otherwise.
I look to the front door and see the boys hovering around Big Mike, giving him shit no doubt. Mike looks annoyed with Jake’s antics and the sight makes me laugh. The boys have grown quite attached to Mike. Although he would never admit it, Mike loves the boys like they’re his own little brothers. Plus, it
’s been a couple of weeks since they’ve been down here and Mike’s due for a little teasing.
My attention is pulled back to work as Natasha’s whiney voice floods my ears and I’m forced to look at her. “Hey, handsome, can you make me a screwdriver? Janie will take a cranberry vodka. Thanks, doll.”
“Okay.”I start to mix up their drinks when Darcie crosses the threshold. She looks amazing. Her ebony hair flows down her back and her emerald irises shine with happiness. She’s wearing a pair of tight black jeans, a fitted t-shirt and the black motorcycle jacket I got her for Christmas last year. The smile spread across her face is gleaming as she looks over at me, which causes me to nearly drop the glass from my hand and spill it. I can’t help smiling back just as big, but it leaves as soon as Grady strides in the door behind her. Disappointment and fury trump the seconds of happiness and I lean forward slamming the drinks in front of Natasha and Janie.
“Hey, Reggie! What the hell is your problem?” Janie shouts.
“Fuck off, Janie!” I yell back, giving her an exasperated glare.
My night is shot. I’m pissed she’s here and she has a lot of nerve bringing that fucking weasel with her. I walk to Gavin and lean in his ear. “You guys are going to have to manage the bar without me. It’s way too busy and I need to make some rounds. I’ll come back and help when I’m done.”
“Sure thing, Reggie. We’ve got this,” Gavin says, nodding at a customer while taking his order.
I make my way from behind the bar and spot their table. Drake, Presley, Grady and Darcie are sitting around, laughing and sipping their drinks when I approach. She really looks happy with this douche; it makes my heart sink further. I release the frustrated breath I was holding and walk right up to their table.
Scarred Love Page 13