by R. K. Ryals
She blanched.
I cursed under my breath. “Tansy—”
Her hand eased up my neck, her fingers sliding into my hair, her nails scraping my scalp, pulling me toward her.
She kissed me, her lips full and soft, and I sank into them.
Her mouth opened, her tongue touching mine, and I was lost, her boldness sending heat to my groin.
All of my good intentions went to hell, but my dick rose to heaven. The hand on her thigh tightened, my other hand gripping her head, her hair tangling around my fingers, deepening the kiss.
Rising, I pushed her back onto the floor of the ring, my body hovering over hers, my hands playing with all of her; her hair, her neck, and her breasts.
She groaned, hunger burning in her eyes.
“You’re beautiful,” I heard myself say. My lips found her neck, my tongue teasing her skin. “All of you.”
Her hand rubbed my back, her fingers curling into my shirt, her legs wrapping around me. I could feel her heart against my chest, beating hard, the pulse in her neck speeding up.
Suddenly, I felt like we were on the roof of the hospital again. Me, resentful and looking for space. Her, afraid and looking for freedom. Two souls hanging over the world.
Lifting my head, I started to speak when Tansy stopped me.
“Don’t say anything,” she begged.
“Is there anything I could say that won’t make you run?” I asked her.
She sighed. “Just do what you’re doing now.”
My hard dick rested against the apex of her thighs, and I laughed shortly. “Sweetheart, if I keep doing what I’m doing now, I’m going to finish this, and I don’t bring condoms to the gym.”
Reaching down between us, she touched me through my shorts, and I hissed in a breath, pressing myself against her hand.
“Then soon?” she asked.
My hand found the place between her legs, and her body arched. “Soon,” I promised.
Pounding on the door filled the gym, but we didn’t move.
“You’re not going to let me say it, are you?” I asked.
“No,” she replied, diverting her gaze. “I’m doing the best I c—” She froze, her eyes widening.
“The best you can,” I finished.
A tear slid from the corner of her eye, trickling down into her hairline, and I knew by the look in her eyes that those words had never treated her well.
“You’re not going to leave here and cut yourself, are you?” I asked.
She didn’t answer me, and I knew it was because she couldn’t promise me she wouldn’t. Emotions ate up this room, and emotion was something she’d learned to fight against. She understood pain better. Pain she could control.
“If you can’t tell me you won’t, then you need help, Tansy. Help I don’t know how to give.”
Her gaze met mine. “I know.”
I rolled off of her, our hands falling away from each other, leaving me cold and helpless. “Hetty—
“Will you come with me to talk to her?” Tansy interrupted.
Possessive tenderness invaded me, catching me off guard.
She’s mine, I thought.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” I promised.
The pounding on the door grew louder, more insistent.
“That condom,” she said abruptly. “Make sure you have it next time.”
My roof girl and her glorious contradictions. Bold and sweet. Witty and smart. Weak and strong. She needed help I couldn’t give her, but the same could be said for me.
“I’m going to talk to Nana tonight,” she promised, worry lines streaking her face.
My forehead fell against hers. “I’ll be there.”
Knocking echoed around us, and I stood, offering her my hand. She accepted it. I wasn’t sure where we went from here, but holding her hand felt good. New, even though I’d held her hand before.
These clasped hands connected more than our bodies.
I was fucked, plain and simple. This was either going to be the best ride of my life or the hardest fall I’d ever taken.
THIRTY-NINE
Tansy
My heart pounded.
Thud, thud, thud …
So loud I couldn’t hear myself think. So loud that the only thing I wanted to do was release the fear I felt.
I hadn’t realized just how good the first three times I cut felt until the moment I needed to come clean about it.
I also hadn’t realized how much I hated admitting I was wrong.
My room, one small cut on my outer right thigh, and I still didn’t feel any better. I needed a deeper cut and more blood, but a car pulled into the driveway, headlights flashing, stopping me.
Eli. He kept his word.
Relief mingled with nerves, the emotions colored by something deeper, by the affection I felt for Eli. He had become important to me, and that terrified me more than the prospect of talking to my grandmother.
A knock sounded, murmuring voices reaching me through the door.
“Tansy!” Hetty called. “You’ve got company.”
Glancing at Snow, who was curled up next to me, I asked, “You ready for this?”
She lifted her head, sniffed the air, and then laid her head back down again.
“Traitor,” I murmured, trying to find something light in a moment I knew wasn’t remotely close to light.
Covering the new wound, I walked out of the bedroom to find Hetty standing in the living room, her wary gaze on Eli. I should have prepared her for this meeting, but I’d been unable to find the words. My mind had been fighting a conflicting battle all afternoon, finally ending with the new cut, sharp pain, and a moment of clarity.
“Please tell me he’s not here because you’re pregnant,” Hetty said, glancing at me.
My cheeks reddened, and I tugged at the hem of my navy blue cotton shorts. An oversized T-shirt fell off of my shoulder.
“I’m not pregnant,” I mumbled.
She knew I wasn’t. Eli and I hadn’t been acquainted long enough for that to happen, but it was a creative way for her to find out if I’d had sex with him.
Hetty exhaled, a suspicious smile playing on her lips. “Then I guess I’ll leave you to it.”
She started to walk into the kitchen, but I stopped her. “No, wait. I do need to talk to you about something, though.”
Eli sat on the sofa, ignoring the death glare Hetty sent his way when he took a seat. He patted the place next to him, and I joined him, my knees pressed together, my hands clasping them.
Hetty’s expression changed. “This looks serious.”
“It’s actually not that bad—”
Eli threw me a look, silencing me. “Show her.”
I think he knew I’d never be able to say it out loud.
Hetty joined us, sitting in an armchair across from the couch. “What’s going on?”
I pulled my shorts leg up, revealing the gashes in my left thigh, took a deep breath, and pulled up the right side.
Eli inhaled sharply. I didn’t look at him.
Hetty stared at my legs, her eyes wide, horror-struck. The cuts weren’t deep enough for stitches, but they were impressive. The length of my middle finger and deep enough to draw blood, they left a stark mark.
“Tansy,” Hetty finally whispered. “What have you done?”
A lump formed in my throat. “It feels good,” I admitted.
Eli’s hand found my knee, squeezing it.
“You,” Hetty hissed, her gaze rising to his. “You taught her this!”
“No!” I protested, putting a stop to that line of thought. “Technically, it started with my piercings,” I told her, flushing. “When I was seeing this guy, Jeff, I got my nose pierced, and I liked the pain. With everything going on at home … I went back for more piercings, my ears this time, and did a few of them on my own.” I swallowed hard, Eli’s hand a welcome pressure on my leg. “I’m not saying that the piercings were the same thing as … you know. I just mean that while most pe
ople want piercings for aesthetic reasons, I wanted them because I liked how they hurt. How I felt better afterward.”
“But this.” Hetty gestured at my legs.
“Those felt way better than the piercings,” I let slip, still riding the euphoria from the most recent cut.
“Tansy,” Hetty continued to stare. “Why would you do this? They could get infected! You could cut too deep or in the wrong place …” She gasped. “Were you trying to kill yourself?”
Hetty wasn’t taking this well. She tapped her knees, her fingers drumming out the beat to “When The Saints Go Marching In”.
“I’m not suicidal,” I breathed, my voice dropping.
“She’s coming to you for help, Mrs. Anderson,” Eli explained, sitting up.
The door to the house burst open, and Deena popped into the living room, her eyes bright. “I saw Jonathan’s car—”
She stopped short, her gaze falling on us.
“Just me,” Eli said, raising his hand in greeting. “I drove the Porsche.”
Hetty turned her disapproving gaze on him. “Your license is suspended.”
“I know.”
Deena stared at me, and I realized her gaze had dropped to my exposed legs, her eyes widening. “Oh my God!”
Grabbing the hem of my shorts, I yanked them down. “Deena, it’s not what it looks like—”
“What is it supposed to look like?” she asked, appalled.
“They’re just cuts,” I inserted quickly. “Just something I did—”
“Something you did?” she interrupted, laughing, the sound tinged with madness. “To yourself?” Her head shook. “You are a freak,” she gasped. “They were right about you all along.” Fury filled her face. “Are you that much like Dad, Tansy?’
She was screaming, the sound drawing the attention of the cats, who shot through the living room. Snow barked from my room.
“I didn’t … this isn’t …”
Shame slammed into me. Talking to Eli in the boxing ring had seemed easy, as if everything I said explained who I was and how I’d gotten here. I hadn’t been ashamed. I’d been willing to admit I was wrong, but I wasn’t ashamed.
Eli stood, his gaze on my sister. “She didn’t try to take her life. She … she …”
I stared up at him. “I cut myself,” I finished. Even he couldn’t say it to them.
He peered down at me. “There was a cutter in my therapy group my first stint in an alcohol recovery program.” He glanced at my grandmother and Deena. “There’s nothing freaky about her. It’s a coping mechanism. She just needs better ways to cope.”
I hated being talked about in third person.
Standing, I looked at all of them. “I’m okay. Just forget it.”
Pushing past them, I grabbed the van keys off of a hook on the wall and left the house.
“Tansy!” my grandmother yelled. “Get back here!”
I kept walking.
“If you take the van, I will call the police,” she threatened.
Despite the desire to rebel, I’d been forced to be responsible too long to change. I froze.
“Tansy,” Eli’s voice said from behind me.
Whirling, I glared at him, my gaze flicking to the two people standing behind him in the yard. Stars shone above us, too beautiful to witness my life. This mess.
“I’m not a she. I’m Tansy. I’m your sister,” I stated, looking at Deena. My gaze slid to Hetty. “And your granddaughter. I’m not a freak. I’m …” My words trailed off, stolen by the stars.
Hetty shook her head. “I don’t know what to do here, Tansy. What you’re doing isn’t safe.”
Eli stepped into my line of vision, his back to my grandmother, his gaze on my face. “I know some people you can talk to.”
Deena laughed. “My sister, the basket case. How much more messed up can my family get?”
His jaw clenching and unclenching, Eli turned to look at her. “Therapy isn’t anything to be ashamed of. Everyone deals with things differently. If Tansy needs to be ashamed, then I do, too. I’ve been seeing therapists on and off since I was eight years old.”
Hetty and Deena stilled, their surprised eyes on Eli.
“My mother is a mental patient,” he added, “and despite everything I have against her, I have never looked down on her for her medical issues. I’m more disappointed in the help she refuses to get. The things she refuses to do to get better. You want your chance to be a family after everything that happened to you? Start with each other.”
Silence filled the yard.
It was Hetty who broke it. “Tansy,” she ran her hands over her face, “talk to me.”
My gaze rose, my heart sinking. “I want to move out,” I revealed. “Work, find a place to stay, and maybe look into the whole college thing. See about taking the SAT or ACT. I need to start over.”
Deena’s face paled. “You want to leave?”
I smiled at her, begging her to understand. “I want to see what I could do now on my own. Without Dad. I wouldn’t be leaving you, Deena. I’m always here. The same way Jet is, even though I know it doesn’t feel like it. You’ll have Nana and the boxing. The damn cats, too.” I laughed, and then sobered. “I just feel like my skin is too tight. Like I should be doing something. Finding out where I’m supposed to be and what I’m supposed to do.”
Hetty stepped toward me. “We need to talk about this, Tansy.” She threw Eli a look. “Amongst family. If you’re cutting, moving won’t help. There won’t be anyone to monitor you.”
My eyes pleaded with her. “I can do this, Nana. I’m not saying right away. I have to finish the garden for Mr. Lockston, the garden here, and I need steady work first. A good plan set in place.”
“There are programs she can attend. Outpatient,” Eli inserted.
Startled, I glanced at him. “What?”
“For the cutting. I checked into some after leaving the gym today.”
With furrowed brows and baffled eyes, Hetty asked, “What are you to Tansy, Eli?”
His gaze locked with mine. “That’s up to your granddaughter.”
Headlights flashed, and a car—a Camaro—roared into the yard, the disturbance breaking the building tension.
Eli groaned.
A door slammed. “Shit, Eli! Could you please quit jacking my car!” Jonathan stomped toward us into the glare of the headlights.
Eli crossed his arms, his face even. “Quit leaving the keys in the ignition.”
Deena’s chin jutted out. “Well, isn’t this nice? We’re having a,” air quotes, “crazy reunion.”
Jonathan blinked. Newcomer or not, he had to know by now that when Deena’s tone hit a sarcastic high, shit was about to hit the fan. “Crazy?” He practically whispered it.
Humiliation swept through me.
Throwing a damning look at all of us, Hetty smoothed her hands down her clothes and took a deep breath. “Look, nobody is crazy here. Misplaced maybe, but not crazy.”
Jonathan rolled his eyes. “When am I going to learn to just walk away? Let Eli do his thing whether it gets him in trouble or not.” His gaze flashed from face to face. “And here all I wanted was my car.”
Something about Hetty’s words got to me. “Misplaced?”
Eli’s lips twitched. “Like we’re all a set of keys someone lost. I kind of like that analogy.”
Hetty massaged her neck. “It’s been my goal in life to please you, Eli.”
He laughed. “I see where your granddaughters get their spunk from.”
Shoulders slumping, Jonathan glanced at his car, and then at us. “What did I miss?”
“Which part?’ Deena asked. “Tansy cutting herself or the fact that she wants to leave me.”
Even with the Camaro engine running, Jonathan’s gasp was audible in the night.
With the cloying summer air, the breeze full of heat, cement, animal, and flowers, it was already hard to breath, but Deena’s words made it harder. A vice gripped my chest, choking me. The cutti
ng exposure was nothing compared to the pain I heard in her voice.
“I’m not leaving you, Deena.” I stepped toward her.
She stepped back. “Like Jet? What a load of bull! Once he left for college, he didn’t even come to visit. Not until Dad went into the hospital.”
I ran a hand through my hair. “I’m not Jet. You know that, Deena.”
“I don’t know anything anymore.”
Her words were a slap in the face. Direct. True. There. Out in the open and more real than anything else she could have said. Our lives after Mom’s death had become a game where we spent every day trying to pretend we were okay. Every day forgetting what was real and wishing for what wasn’t. That fine line was gone now and everything was running together. I may have been the consistent sibling, the one who stayed, but I was also the one who had changed the most. Jet was still as wishy-washy as he’d always been.
Suddenly, despite everyone around us, it was just me and Deena, the two of us watching each other.
“I think I forgot who I was,” I admitted, “and it’s time I figure out exactly who that is.”
She hugged herself. “You can’t do that here?”
This time, when I stepped toward her, she didn’t move away. “Our problems became bigger than us, Deena. They swallowed us whole and spat us back out all chewed up. But this world is about more than just our problems. The world is bigger than that. I know what it feels like, looking at everyone and everything around you and not knowing what or who they are anymore. Before Mom died, we were so certain about us and our family. Now … that’s why I did it, I think. It’s like I want to cut away the parts of me I’m not sure of and leave behind the parts I’m positive of.”
Deena’s gaze dropped to my legs. “You can’t do that, Tansy.”
“I know.”
“We’re never going home again, are we?” she whispered.
“No,” I whispered back.
A tear slid down her cheek, her arms tightening around herself. “Please don’t keep hurting yourself.”
The wind blew, tugging at my hair and sucking the cool wetness off of my cheeks. Tears. “I’m going to try.”
Our gazes met, and then for the first time in years, she threw herself at me, her spindly arms circling my back, hugging me.