“Tell me what happened.”
“I don’t know. It goes in and out. First, it’s you, and we’re you know . . . but then it’s not you. No, No, No!”
Annie grabbed my shoulders. “You’re telling me you had sex?”
“I wanted it to be you, Annie,” I said, collapsing onto my bed, my eyes landing on something on my pillow.
“It wasn’t me.”
I held up a strand of long, bleach blonde hair, memories starting to come back, attacking me. “Vicki.”
I’d never forget the look in Annie’s eyes when she realized what happened. I never wanted anyone else to look at me like that again. But somehow, she stayed calm.
“Tell me what you remember,” Annie said.
“I felt a hand on my chest. I said your name, thinking you’d come back. It was dark, and my head was cloudy. I couldn’t focus.”
“What else?”
“I remember asking where you were. She said, ‘I’m right here. I love you,’ and placed my hand on her chest. Then she said, ‘Feel me. Taste me.’”
I stopped talking and started to shake so hard I thought it would never stop. My heart was pounding hard and fast, making my head spin. I looked at Annie and said, “No more, Annie. I can’t.”
“Pierce, we have to tell someone.”
“No! Are you crazy?”
“We have to. Your dad needs to know. This is fucking . . .”
“Please, Annie,” I begged. “Please, I don’t want anyone to know. Please.”
“Shh! Okay, I won’t tell anyone.” She pulled me into a hug and asked, “Vicki’s never done anything like this before?”
“No, but I told you she walks around without much on and . . . It’s always made me feel weird. But she never came to my room or anything before. Of all the nights for this to happen. It had to be the one time I got shit-faced.” Annie looked away. “Annie, you know this wouldn’t have happened if I’d been sober? You believe me, right?”
She held me tighter, sniffling. “I know.”
“I lost my virginity to my stepmother,” I cried. “I had sex with her. I don’t even like her. I can’t believe this. It doesn’t seem real.”
“You were so fucked up,” Annie said. “I should’ve never left you.”
“I thought it was you,” I cried out, clinging to Annie. “I thought you changed your mind. I don’t want to remember this. No!”
Annie gripped my face in her hands. “Then it was me. Understand? It was me.” I looked up into her face. “It was me. That’s the story. We spent the night together. You understand? I was your first.”
“Annie, I’m not going to let you lie for me. I don’t want you to be a part of this.” She flinched, pulling away from me, but didn’t say anything. “I can’t deal with this.”
“You wish it was me, right?”
“Yes,” I said. “I wanted it to be you for so long.”
“Me, too,” she said. “And if I’d just said yes, it would’ve been me.”
“We kissed,” I said. “A lot.”
She smiled the saddest smile I’d ever seen then reached for the hem of her shirt, lifting it over her head. I’d seen her in less clothing, but this was different. She reached behind her and undid her bra. Annie’s petite, but her breasts didn’t match her small frame. “We’ll replace the memory with a good one,” she said. “One you’ll remember.”
“But you said only kissing?”
“Wish I never would’ve said that,” she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek.
I wiped it away, and she leaned back a little, offering me the only thing she could—her. She gave me control back.
She looked beautiful, but so sad. Annie had been used by boys before. I didn’t want to be on that list. I handed her back her shirt. “Forever the good guy,” she said.
Not anymore, I thought.
My bedroom door flew open—Vicki, my dad, and Annie’s parents on the other side, her dad holding up a bag with the empty bottle and snacks from last night.
“Oh my God,” her mother screamed, seeing her daughter half-dressed and laid out before me.
Annie threw her shirt on. “Nothing happened.”
Her father held up the bag. “What about last night?”
“Obviously, there was some drinking and drugs in this room last night,” Vicki said, looking at me. “And they made some poor choices. A mistake.”
That was her party line. I felt my stomach surge again, and Annie wrapped her arms around me. Her parents grabbed her, trying to pull her out of my room. I heard her crying out for me, but I didn’t move, my stepmother staring down at me.
I didn’t see Annie again for three months. Three months where I learned to sit across the breakfast table from Vicki and my dad. Three months where I locked my bedroom door every night. Three months where I begged my boss at the hotel to let me work more and more. Three months of silence that turned into a lifetime.
*
I was about to lose hope that I’d ever see Annie again, but then one day, there she was, waiting for me on the front step of my house. I should’ve run to her, smiled, picked her up, and twirled her around, but instead I froze. Seeing her was like having my secret out in the open.
Her lips pressed together, she pushed out a smile. “I didn’t tell anyone.”
Relief flooded my body. Three months in-patient therapy for drugs and alcohol, and she hadn’t cracked. I knew she never would. I was safe. Safe with Annie. She flew into my chest, and I held her as tight as I could.
“Do your parents know you’re here?” I asked. “I figured they’d never let you see me again.”
“I told them there was no way to keep us apart,” she said. “They just left. They talked to Vicki and your dad.”
“What do your parents think happened?”
“I took your virginity,” she said with a broad smile.
She put her money where her mouth is, that’s for sure. “You’re the best friend a guy could ever have.” Her eyes gave away her hurt. I hated seeing it. I never wanted to hurt her, but I could never be more than her friend, now. “Annie, I can’t be . . .”
“I know,” she said, hugging me again. “Are you okay?”
I nodded. “I missed you.”
“Me, too,” she said. “I tried to get them to let me call or write, but they wouldn’t. I even tried to break out.”
The front door to my house opened. My dad smiled down at us, welcoming Annie back, but I just stared at my feet. I hadn’t looked him in the eye since that night. He took us inside, sitting us down on the sofa, sharing with us the new rules of the house, explaining it was the only way that Annie and I could continue to see each other. Stupid shit like we couldn’t be alone in my room. We couldn’t be in any room with the door closed. He’d never acted like a father before. We knew all this was coming from Annie’s parents, but we just rolled with it, knowing we’d do whatever the hell we wanted anyway. No drugs or alcohol of any kind was hilarious coming out of his mouth.
“We won’t be having too many parties,” Vicki said, coming and sitting down beside my father. When she came in, I swear he looked like he was glowing, his smile was so huge. She started to say something, then stopped, and he gave her a little nod. “I’m pregnant.” My eyes darted to hers, so cold I almost pissed my pants. “You are going to be a big brother, Pierce.”
Annie’s nails dug into me, and I said, “When? When’s the baby due?” My dad rattled off the date with such pride, and I did some quick math in my head.
“It’s early,” my dad said. “Only about eight weeks along.”
“Ashton, can you get me something to drink?” Vicki asked. “Some orange juice for the baby.”
Dutifully, he got up and walked toward the kitchen. Did he ever do that for my mother either time she was pregnant?
None of us had dared mention that night. But it was in every glance between Vicki and me. In every breath. It had stolen all the oxygen out of the house. But now we had to.
&n
bsp; “She could be lying. About the date. She could be lying,” Annie whispered, but Vicki heard her, her head whipping around. I shielded Annie, afraid Vicki was going to slap her. “You have to tell someone,” Annie whispered to me.
“What would you like to tell them?” Vicki asked.
Annie got in her face. “You know what you did.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“You . . .” Annie stumbled for the right words. “You snuck into his room and . . .”
“And . . .” Vicki said, almost like a dare. “What did you do?”
Annie’s eyes darted to mine. “Annie didn’t do anything,” I snapped. “Leave her alone.”
Vicki smiled. “You and Annie got high and slept together. That’s the story she told everyone. The story she told her doctors, her parents. You want to change that story now?” Annie looked at me again. “Because I can think of a lot of interesting stories to tell. Maybe a story about a troubled girl who gave my stepson drugs and alcohol. Or maybe a story about my drugged-out stepson who took advantage of . . .”
“You’re crazy,” Annie cried.
“I’m not the one who just got out of the psych ward,” Vicki sneered, inching closer. We all knew who had the power, the control, and it wasn’t two fifteen-year-old kids. “I don’t want to talk about this again, agreed?”
And we never did. Instead, Annie and I waited, counting the days until Tawny’s birth, thankful when she was born on her due date and not a second sooner.
Turns out, she wasn’t my daughter. She was my sister, but she was still growing up in that house with that woman as her mother.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
The words came out of my mouth. I slept with Vicki. I can’t quite believe it. After all these years, Sutton made me crack. My worst secret is out. There’s no relief. There’s no feeling that a burden’s been lifted. None of that bullshit.
It’s like going to confession, only there’s no priest to give me penance and absolve me of my sins. There’s only Sutton. I glance at her as I open the front door to my house and wait for her to pass. She’s still with me. She didn’t leave like I thought she would. Annie was right—Sutton is a ride or die woman.
Every time I think she’ll bolt, she stays. When I failed my diet, she gave me a second chance. When I told her about Dr. Lorraine, she opened up to me about her past. Tonight’s confession was no different. It shouldn’t surprise me, but it does.
Her eyes catch mine for a second. I wonder what she’s thinking. She’s probably wondering the same about me, but she’s been in my head enough tonight. Still, there are questions swirling in her blue eyes. Questions I’m not ready to answer. Questions I don’t ever want to answer.
She knows enough. She can figure out the rest. If she wants to know the impact this had on my life, why I am the way I am, then she can draw her own conclusions. I have no desire to delve into more touchy-feely psychobabble. I didn’t do it with Dr. Lorraine, and I’m not about to start now.
I’m not one of those stories you see in the news about a female teacher having sex with her underage student. This isn’t a funny sitcom sketch about a cougar or a talk show about familial abuse. I am not that.
Vicki was the beginning.
The beginning of who I became.
She was the first.
The first in a line of women.
But that’s over now. Sutton is the last. The last woman. The line ends with her.
Nothing else matters. There’s nothing else to discuss.
What about the shame? What about the guilt? I close my eyes tightly, pushing out the questioning echoes from my heart. I need to shut this shit down.
Sutton slips her hand into mine as we walk upstairs to my bedroom. I feel her eyes on me but don’t look at her. It’s been quiet since my confession at the storage unit. She’s tried to talk, but I’m very good at shutting people down when I need to. I did it to Annie for years.
I never understood why Annie felt responsible for that night, her guilt. She blamed herself for what happened, but it was Vicki pulling the strings, just like in Annie’s painting. And now Annie’s dead. Because of her. I want Vicki to pay for what she did to Annie, for giving her drugs, for using her. But how can I do that without hurting Tawny? Too many people have already been hurt by all this. I never wanted that to happen, especially to Sutton.
“I’m sorry I lied to you about the vasectomy,” I say, closing and locking my bedroom door.
“With everything else, I’ve practically forgotten about that.” She laughs a little. “So you did it because . . .”
“You have to understand, I begged God, the universe, for Vicki not to be pregnant with my child. I made all kinds of promises after that night. I swore I’d never drink or do drugs again. I swore I’d always protect myself. That I’d never let myself be in that position again.”
She places her hand over mine, and I see it in her eyes. She’s not looking at me the same way anymore. Whoever said honesty is the best policy was a fucking fool. Lie till you die is better. “I don’t want to talk,” I say.
“I have some things to say,” Sutton says, her eyes holding mine while she slowly undresses, until she’s standing in her black bra and panties at the edge of my bed. She’s speaking my language. I step toward her, and she lowers herself to my bed. Shedding my clothes, I lean over her, one finger drawing a path between her tits, down her stomach, to her panties. I begin to slide them down her long smooth legs.
I really don’t deserve this woman.
Yet she’s still here.
Selfishly, I bury myself inside her. Her hands on my ass, she pulls me deeper, encouraging me to fuck her hard and deep, knowing that’s exactly what I need. Each thrust harder than the last. Each groan louder than before.
She takes it—all the pain, all the anger. She takes every ounce of it.
I’m supposed to be making love to her, but this feels more like hate-fucking. More like what I did with all those other women—screwing so hard you don’t have time to feel a damn thing. That was the point. I didn’t out-run my feelings—I out-fucked them.
I won’t do that to Sutton.
Slowing down, I roll my hips into hers. My eyes roam her body—her perfect curves like a map leading me where I need to go.
Here’s the thing about loving someone. It’s a complete loss of control, like falling. Sometimes it hurts. And sometimes you land exactly where you’re supposed to.
Her body becomes my guide, grounding me. Shrouded in darkness, the years of silence are over as the story of that night fills the space between us—the guilt, the shame so thick I feel like I’m going to choke on them.
Sensing my struggle, she takes my face in her hands. “Fall. Fall into me.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
This is only the third funeral I’ve ever attended. I’ve buried my mom, my dad, and now Annie. I’m not sure which is the hardest. Everyone wants to know why this happened. How something like this could happen. Truth is, it’s not the trauma that kills us—it’s the treatment we get afterwards. Are we nurtured or ignored? Do we speak or go mute? This happened to Annie for one reason, and one reason only—silence killed her.
Thankfully, Vicki had enough sense to stay away. She probably wouldn’t step foot in this cemetery anyway. My mother is buried here. When my father died, Vicki had him buried in a cemetery across town. There was no way she’d have my parents laid anywhere near each other for all eternity.
The foyer of the funeral home is bursting with people. My hotel staff all loved Annie. I wish I could’ve shut the place down so that they all could come, but that wasn’t possible. Still, everyone that could be here is. Albert even tried to bring the dog to pay his respects to Annie. Did Annie know how loved she was when she was alive? Did I tell her enough?
I see her parents across the room. Their pain is too great to control, both of them sobbing. No parent should ever have to bury their child. My eyes fly to Sutton’s belly, no evidence of
our child present yet. How can something so little change everything?
And Annie’s not here to see it. I never got the chance to tell her. Would her knowing I’m going to be a father have changed what happened? I’ll never know. Just like she’ll never know my child.
I reach into my pocket, feeling her letter to me, still sealed. These are the words. The words she needed to say to me for so long. I won’t silence her any longer.
Slowly I open the letter, Annie’s last words floating off the page.
Pierce,
You must’ve finally made it to the storage unit. I know you avoid these memories at all costs. The things that have haunted me are the things you long ago buried, but you buried them alive. I know they are coming back, and when they do, I want you to be ready. You need the whole truth—my side of the story.
You wonder why I stuck around for so long instead of pursuing my art, my dreams. I hate to blame it all on my guilt. It wasn’t just that. I was waiting for someone like Sutton just as much as you were, only I knew it. I was waiting on the woman that would step in and protect your heart, the parts that are damaged, the parts my love can’t and won’t ever be able to fix.
I hope you’ll tell Sutton the whole story. I can only tell you mine, having long ago promised not to share yours.
It was another party at your dad’s house. I loved it. My parents were such prudes. The loud music, the smoking, the drinking, the random hook-ups, the drugs—it was everything that appealed to my wild side. Your wild side was non-existent, but I was hell bent on changing that. You hadn’t kissed me since that day on the levee, and that was years ago. Since then, my crush on you had grown huge. I planned on making you realize your crush on me, no matter what.
It seemed like every other week your dad and his bandmates threw a party. The fact that you were living with him didn’t seem to slow them down one bit. He’d just gotten back from touring, so this one was really huge.
I walked into their kitchen before making my way up to your room. I knew you wouldn’t be downstairs. You hated these things, not that I knew why. I never knew what your problem was. I thought Vicki and Ashton were the coolest, even considered Vicki the mom I wish I had.
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