Except you’re not sweet and you damn sure aren’t respectable after what you did to her daughter.
You know, I can’t even remember when I said all that shit they got me on tape with. I’m not denying I said it because I know my own voice, but I’ve been making fun of her for so long, it could have been three years ago and I wouldn’t know. Gotta hand it to him though, he nailed all of the primo material. I couldn’t have picked better than that.
I told Tim that her mother should have aborted her for crying out loud. How much worse can you get?
I just hope she didn’t tell her mom exactly what I said about her, otherwise, I’m definitely not making it past her front door tonight.
Finally reaching her driveway, I try to keep myself as steady as I can.
“Isaaaaaaaaabelleeeeeeeee!”
It’s slurred and I swear I cracked a couple times, but it came out loud enough to have an effect. Where they had been no light before, there is now. Right where her living room is, it brightens and I know that I’ve been heard.
Making my way up the rest of the driveway, I take her steps, one at a time, until I’m standing directly in front of her door. Pressing my finger down hard on the doorbell, my body sways back and forth as I wait for someone to get a clue and answer.
When the door opens, I expect it to be her mom. There’s this part of me that wants to see her angry face and be yelled at for what I did tonight. I need to be screamed at. I think I actually need it as badly as I need Isabelle herself.
It’s not her mom though. It’s her.
Her face is still stained with tears and even in my haze I wonder if they’re new or just left over from before. Even though she’s standing in front of me, her eyes are locked on the ground, not even acknowledging that I’m standing here. Seeing her like this pisses me off. I walked all this way to talk to her, the last thing I need is for her to look anywhere but at me.
“You, you need to look—at me!”
Like magic her head lifts and for a split second I think I’m actually going to have those pretty blue eyes aimed in my direction, more than happy with whatever expression shines in them. I’d gladly take her anger, sadness, hell, even laughter if it meant she would just look at me again.
She doesn’t afford me that luxury though, instead looking toward my house across the street, her eyes dull and lifeless. I move toward her and the minute I do, I regret it. Instead of cowering the way I expect, she pushes her body into mine until I stumble backward off her front step. Before I can react, she shoves her arms into me, again making me stumble. With one more shove, as hard as I think she can push, she gets what she wants. I fall flat on my ass on the ground in front of her.
I start laughing hysterically and that’s when I see it. Her face scrunches up and she starts crying.
I’m sick of seeing this girl cry in front of me. All I’ve wanted since the day I found her in the parking lot is for her to smile. I felt like the luckiest son of a bitch walking the earth the day she smiled at me for the first time. Now I’m back to doing what I’ve been doing to her for eight years now. I’ve turned her back into the wounded bird she’d been when I saved her.
Something is seriously wrong.
Focusing on the day I saved her, calling her a wounded bird, it’s all wrong. I’m the one that’s wounded and she wasn’t the one saved that day. I was. The life I’d been living had gotten old, so when the opportunity presented itself, I saw an opening and I took it. She saved me and she has no fucking clue.
“Belle…”
Trying to focus my eyes on her, I realize as the haze lifts that she’s not standing in front of me anymore. It’s only when I feel the softest hands in the world run across my face, I know why she’s not where she was.
“Goodbye Kayden.”
Those lips of hers, so soft, I imagine it’s what lying on a cloud feels like, come to rest on my forehead and before I can reach out, grab her and make her stay with me, she’s on her feet again. Her back is to me and she’s walking away.
I’m completely blasted off my ass and I probably won’t remember all this in the morning, but I do know one thing I’m never going to forget, no matter how much I drink tonight or where I go from here.
I’ll never forget the sound of her voice as she tells me goodbye.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Belle
The strangest thing happens to me when I hear Kayden yelling from outside.
Mom gets up from the sofa, more than ready to go to the door and handle it, but I don’t let her. I stand in her way, blocking her and don’t back down until she sits down. When she’d gotten to the door after the game, I had no problem letting her take control, but something is different this time.
She can’t do this anymore.
I’m seventeen years old and just like Ms. Taylor told me before she dropped me off, I’m smart and I deserve better. For so long I’ve stayed in this comfortable little place inside of myself where none of their words could touch me. Somewhere along the way, the walls I constructed broke down because I became flooded with all the awful words, taunts and physical pain they put on me.
That can’t happen anymore. It’s time to face it, this time without any walls up and put an end to it once and for all, whether I can speak the words or not.
When I opened the door and came face to face with him, I wasn’t sure what was going to happen. I know I wanted to get rid of him, get him back home where he belongs, but anything else, I didn’t plan. The first thing I noticed about him wasn’t his eyes or the way he’s dressed, but how he smelled.
People make fun of me all the time for the accidents I have and as hard as having them is for me, I do understand what people find funny about it, even if it’s mean. It’s why one of the things I heard on the tape, didn’t hurt me as much as it should have. Going to school with me really is like going with someone in Kindergarten.
Kayden, smelling like he bathed in alcohol for the past three hours, might be worse than all of my accidents combined. It’s such a strong scent that I have a hard time even looking toward him because of the way it floats toward my nose. If I breathe that smell in for too long, I’m actually scared I’ll end up being the one that’s drunk, not him.
He yells at me to look at him and something inside me snaps. I’m not sure if it’s just everything that’s happened these past few weeks or the glazed over look in his eye as he’s yelling, but I’ve had enough.
I start pushing at him, shoving as hard as I can, trying to get him away from me. I want him away from the house, away from my mom and Tristan, who despite everything he’s heard tonight, still loves Kayden almost as much as I do. I want him back in the house of horrors he lives in across the street and I never want to see him again.
When he finally falls, that’s when I break. I know I want him away, but seeing him on the ground that way, I worry that I hurt him. He laughs so loudly there’s a second where I think I’m watching the hyena exhibit at the zoo and not a real person. That’s when the stupid tears start falling. There’s something about the way he’s laughing and it’s aimed at me that rips me apart inside.
We’re no good for each other. We never have been. I was going to use my time at the dance to tell him that and it’s there again, the need to do it. He’s sitting on the ground in front of my house, drunk, because of everything I’ve put him through. It’s further proof that he deserves someone better.
I need to let him go.
So when I slide down onto my knees and touch his face, I do the only thing I can do, in order to do the right thing by him. I lean into his forehead, close my eyes and place my lips to his skin, saying my own private goodbye, before standing and saying the words out loud, the way they need to be.
What I’ve been suffering with all of these years, not being able to talk, almost seems like it’s lifted in that moment. I have no fear about the words I’m about to say. In fact, for the first time in a really long time, they seem like the right ones. My heart isn’t
beating out of my chest; it’s slowed to a dull crawl. I’m secure with this, knowing it’s what needs to be done. There can be no looking back.
“Goodbye Kayden.”
It’s only when I’ve walked completely away from him, back into the safety of my house with the door shut behind me, that I wipe the tears from my eyes and make my way up the stairs to my room. Where I might have looked through the window to make sure he got home safe before, I don’t do that now. I can’t. This time, a goodbye has to mean goodbye, even if it hurts me deeply to do so.
“Are you okay, Belle?” I hear my mom call up the stairs.
“No, but I will be.”
Kayden
I don’t know how long I laid out there on her lawn, but after staring up at the sky for what feels like hours, letting the dizziness pass, I finally start taking the steps to get up. Her last words to me are firmly planted in my head and with them running on repeat; I start stumbling across the street.
It’s time to face Dean.
No one knows this, but I dread this part. Coming home every day after practice or even just after school, I take my time driving down the street, so I can prolong it as long as possible. I hate coming face to face with him. Walking in the door and seeing his dead eyes looking through me, shows me a truth I really don’t want to see.
This is my future.
The way Dean is, slumped over in his bed or hanging off the sofa, while he’s sleeping off another bender in his boxers. That’s what I have to look forward to if I don’t do something drastic to change it. I thought nailing a scholarship would do it, hell, I even thought getting together with Isabelle and spending all of my free time over there, would be what changed the road I’m on, but it’s not. No matter what I do to change it, this is always going to be my path.
I’m destined to become Dean.
As expected, the minute the door cracks open, I’m met with a pair of angry brown eyes. This time though, the normal glaze I’m used to isn’t there. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m so wasted that my eyes are playing tricks on me, but he doesn’t look drunk.
He walks toward me and I notice there isn’t a sway in his step like usual. He’s completely straight and from the look in his eyes, growing angrier by the minute. I would prefer he was wasted; it would make this go a little smoother. There’s nothing worse than an angry, yet sober Dean. He’s twice as dangerous then.
I’m not sure if it’s the alcohol talking or what, but I start laughing again, even more hysterically then I did earlier with Isabelle. Dean not being drunk has to be some sort of sick joke right? The guy hasn’t been sober more than a day in the last six months. It’s a trademark thing for him. Who is he trying to impress being the sober one now?
“Glad you think this is funny.”
“You’re sober, it’s hilarious.”
He smirks at me, which normally would scare the shit out of me because I know what’s coming, but this time it doesn’t. I don’t feel anything. I guess that’s what happens when you’ve lost everything that had any real meaning. You become numb to what’s left.
It happens so quickly, I don’t have the time to adjust and suddenly my back is up against the wall, his hand pushing into my chest, locking me in place.
“You think you’re such a smart, son of a bitch, yet every single thing you do is stupid. You’re no better than that stupid mute bitch across the street!”
The anger inside of me rises the minute he mentions Isabelle, but the liquor I drowned myself in before has left me so off kilter, I don’t have it in me to fight him on it. Any other time, I’d have no problem shutting him up, but I really am completely empty. I’ve got nothing left.
“I didn’t bust my ass to get you on the team just so you could blow it all for a crush on a retard.”
He lands the first blow, following it up immediately with another one straight into my stomach until my body starts sliding down the wall. He releases his arm and watches me fall to the floor, the smirk now a full grin. He’s pleased with himself. Bringing people pain or at least causing me pain brings him enjoyment like nothing else.
I feel the kicks next, as he levels me with one after the other, my brain losing count after the fifth or sixth one, all of them blending together until I can barely tell them apart.
Picking me up off the floor, he lifts me in the air until I’m standing on my feet, swaying a little, but steady enough that I’m not going to fall unless pushed. He starts screaming at me, his words coming so quickly, I can’t make any of them out, his hands shoving into my chest until I’m stumbling backwards.
I hear the sound of the glass smashing before I feel the impact. It’s when I start feeling the stinging pain in different parts of my body that I realize exactly what’s happened. He shoved into me so hard that I feel backwards and smashed through the glass table. It now lays in pieces, some of them digging into my back, my legs and arms. I feel the dampness on my body and I know that not only did I break straight through it, but it broke me open in the process.
I know I should try and get up, that I need to fight back before he decides to do something even worse, but I can’t. I’ve got nothing left to fight for.
Fighting with Dillon probably screwed my chances on the team and the scholarship I wanted so badly. My own words about Isabelle ruined any shot I have at a future with her. There really is nothing left. I’m completely alone, the same way I was when Mom split, leaving me with Satan incarnate.
Closing my eyes, blocking out whatever Dean is going to do next, I let the darkness pull me under and just like times before, the last thing I see before it completely drags me down is Isabelle as she walks toward me, smiling.
Belle
Something doesn’t feel right. I’ve got this sick feeling in my stomach. It’s been there for over an hour and no matter what I do, it doesn’t go away.
I thought it was because of everything that happened tonight, but even when I’m not thinking about all of that, it’s still there, turning me inside out. I tried taking medicine, hoping that would fix it, but it did nothing to help. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, something I’m sure my body wants more than anything, but all I do is toss and turn, the sick feeling growing even more.
When I’ve finally had more than I can stand, I go downstairs, but when I reach the bottom step, I just stand and watch the picture in front of me. Tristan’s on the sofa, curled up in my mom’s arms, the TV playing some superhero movie, but neither one of them is paying attention. Mom’s head is turned into his and he’s blocked by her body so I can’t make out where his face is, but I think he might be asleep.
It’s a peaceful picture, one I’ve seen a million times before, but one that gets to me now more than ever. Despite everything that I have to deal with, at the end of the day I still get to come home to this. To a mother, that despite her own failings, loves unconditionally and who will do anything to keep her kids safe and protected.
There’s no darkness, pain or fighting here. There’s just love.
We have stress of course, every family has that, but here, the way it’s dealt with is just so different than what I’ve seen and read about. The stress doesn’t break us; it seems to make us stronger.
Watching them this way, it makes me think of the people that don’t have this. It makes me think of him, despite the fact that he’s the last person I want to focus on. He had this, at least a little before his mom left, but it wasn’t quite the same. Now, he doesn’t have it at all and even though I never want to see him again, my heart breaks for him.
Leaving him outside on the lawn and walking away, I have no idea where he ended up and it’s scares me. No matter how upset I am, I know what’s going to happen if he goes home and not even Kayden deserves that. I should have brought him in, instead of leaving him out there.
Maybe I didn’t do the right thing for him after all. Sending him home to Dean is never going to be the right thing.
Placing my foot down flat, the floor creaks under the pressure
and the peaceful picture of my family shifts, my mom turning her head toward the sound and locking eyes with me.
“It’s alright, Belle.” She whispers, giving me all the proof I need that Tristan is indeed asleep in her arms. “Go ahead, just be careful.”
She knows what I want to do and I don’t have to say a word. This is another reason I’m so glad that she’s my mom. It’s been proven that there are people in the world that, because of their own issues, can’t handle when things are hard. She’s not like that at all. I think in some way, I was put with her because of how strong she is, even at her weakest point. She could have given up at any time, sent me away somewhere, but she didn’t. She stayed right by my side, fighting for me every step of the way.
Grace Reagan is the strongest person I know.
“I will. I won’t be long.”
I’m not sure what I’m going to do, but once I’ve traded out my slippers for the sandals and put my jacket on, I know that I’ve got to do it.
Kayden Walker may be everything that he’s claimed to be right from the beginning, but he’s still a person underneath all of it. A living, breathing person that deserves better then to go home every single night and fear what might happen. The sick feeling inside of me, it’s because of him and until I see for myself that he’s okay, that Dean hasn’t hurt him, I won’t feel right again.
Not bothering to look both ways, content that at this time of night, the street’s going to be quiet, I run across and it’s only when I get to his door that I know why the pain in my stomach is so strong.
I hear what sounds like bottles smashing, then the yelling, but it’s not Kayden. It’s all Dean. I would recognize that angry, gruff sound anywhere. Even though I’ve seen his brother in the peak of his rage before, it doesn’t sound anything like this. I’m about to knock on the door when I hear the moan. It’s not loud and just as quickly as I hear it, it’s gone. It’s just Dean yelling again, but I know the moan was from Kayden.
Count On Me Page 22