Blind Love (Sulfur Heights Series)

by Brannon, M. S.

  Maybe that’s why I knew Emerson was the man I was going to be with. I’ve been expected to be with someone like him my entire life, however I feel Emerson is very different. He really listens when I speak, values my opinion and truly wants to be with me.

  A chime from my cell phone breaks my thoughts. Jake’s name flashes across the screen, along with his goofy picture.

  Before I left, he’d set my ringtone to Hinder’s All American Nightmare. At first, I was appalled at the loud guitar riffs and shouting, but when I Googled the lyrics, I soon realized why he’d chosen it. He did say it would remind me of him, and once again, Jake Evans was right.

  It speaks volumes about his personality. If we got to walk around in life with theme music playing in the background, that song would be his.

  I tried to choose a song for me on his phone, but Jake refused to let me mess with it. All he told me was that the song he’d chosen was perfect for our relationship.

  I will find out someday.

  Jake: Hey there, cupcake! How’s your day?

  Me: Well, it just got started. What are you doing?

  Jake: Just got in from another long night. A doe-eyed brunette wore me out.

  Me: Did you get her name this time?

  Jake: Do I ever get their names?

  Jake’s sexual habits are disgusting, but I’ve learned to accept that they are a part of his unique personality. For once in his life, I would like him to take himself seriously and stop acting like a pig, although being the good friend that I am, I’ve learned to appreciate who he is and pray that someday he will find someone good.

  Jake needs to find someone special to spend time with because, underneath his hard exterior and crudeness, lies a man who simply wants to be happy; a man who deserves to be happy. I want him to have all the happiness in the world. I want him to have what I have with Emerson.

  Me: I really have no desire to hear about your latest conquests.

  Jake: What’s your desire, cupcake?

  Me: Stop calling me cupcake! And my desires are none of your business.

  Jake: Harsh! BFF, remember?

  Me: Haven’t forgotten, but tell me something I want to know.

  Jake: I kicked that gross toothy guy’s ass in pool today. The one you played.

  Me: How much did you make?

  Jake: 300. What are you doing today?

  Me: Nice! Emerson and I are going to a movie then for hayrides at the apple orchard.

  Jake: Sounds gay. Are you sure he’s swinging for the ladies?

  It’s been noted from the day we declared our friend status that Jake has little appreciation for Emerson. I think it’s because Jake has no idea how to treat a woman, and when I tell him the little romantic things Emerson will do for me, he questions his sexuality. He’s also fond of telling me that he’s a douche or some other colorful words I care not to repeat. On many occasions, Jake will rant about Emerson not being the right guy for me, but what I constantly have to remind him of is that they’ve never met and he has no idea the sweet and loving person Emerson is. Jake is just being Jake, but it does get a little old.

  Me: I’m going now. Talk to you tomorrow, friend. Now take a hot shower and pass out.

  Jake: Night, cupcake. ;)

  Me: Night. Stop calling me that!

  I pull my long, gray sweater from my closet along with my black leather boots and slip them on. I am looking forward to spending the day with my love. He is a wonderful boyfriend, always spoiling me with gifts, taking me on unforgettable dates, and just being a lovely person.

  He can be a little too serious sometimes, but I chalk it up to being cut from the same cloth as his father. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that man smile. Emerson does get his classically good looks from him as well, though unlike my boyfriend, his dad is always walking around with a scowl on his face and intensity lingering in his eyes. The times I’ve spent around Emerson’s parents, I’ve never seen his dad be affectionate with anyone, his wife included.

  I finish braiding my hair and then grab my purse and keys when I see Emerson’s BMW pull into our driveway. Descending the stairs, I spot my dad and him are in a deep discussion about business until my eyes meet his and I melt. He truly is the best guy. He greets me with a kiss to my cheek and leaves my father with a firm handshake, then we are out the door, heading to the movies.

  Emerson looks very handsome wearing an ivory, cable knit sweater and jeans. His sandy-blonde hair is combed perfectly to lie across is head and his blue eyes sparkle in the sunlight. I look over at him adoringly and my face expresses how happy I am being his girlfriend. He just makes me smile, especially when he takes my hand and plants faint kisses to the top; just like he’s doing right now.

  We drive to the movies and walk hand in hand in the theater. I am unbelievably happy and perfectly content. Life just couldn’t get any better.

  Jake

  Two Months After Delilah’s Departure

  It’s been two months since Delilah left and my life has finally gotten back to normal. And by normal, I mean my mind is no longer consumed with wanting to hold her, kiss her and always be around her. I think it’s because she’s the hottest woman I’ve been around and my hormones were out of control.

  I do miss her, she brought a certain element to my everyday routine, but I’m much better this way. How I am now works perfect for me. She was just a nice distraction.

  Drag racing is over and it’s cold as shit outside as Michigan moves into winter. I have been spending more time at the bar, hustling pool, trying to put as much money as I can in my pockets. Jeremy and I talk regularly about opening up our shop, but lately he’s been a little distant in the conversation.

  When I’m at the bar, he is mostly hanging out with Ronnie, staying out late or not even coming home at all. Whenever I mention Ronnie, Jeremy clams up and quickly changes the subject. I know something is up, but it’s pointless interrogating him. Jeremy is tight-lipped about everything.

  Money never seems to bother Jeremy, and I’m not sure how he lives when it gets cold outside now that racing is over, but that fucker manages to put money away weekly. Reggie taught us to be frugal with our money and I think Jeremy is the best at it. He can live off nothing all winter long, but still contributes to the household expenses every month.

  Jeremy and I have decided keeping our money in a bank wasn’t the best idea, considering none of it was earned the legal way. Jeremy concocted a genius idea to hide a safe in the garage floor. It’s quite brilliant. We cut a hole in the garage floor, making the space big enough for a small safe. The door is now flush with the concrete, and to keep it hidden, Jeremy has bolted a large tool chest over the safe and no one is the wiser. We can still access the safe by removing the bottom drawer of the tool chest.

  It’s actually a pain in the ass and I hate doing it, so I give Jeremy my money most of the time and he adds it to the safe. Secrecy is key in Sulfur Heights, and we don’t want our business out there, so we’ve told no one—family included. Not that we couldn’t trust them, but it’s just best if we’re the only ones who know about the money. People do crazy shit for money, that’s for sure. Since we are the only ones who know about our stash, we’ve devised a plan B if we ever need to get it out of there and fast. Hopefully, that day will never happen, but it’s always important to have a plan in place.

  I’m finishing the last of my beer when in walks a tall, leggy blonde. She’s wearing a skirt so short I can practically see what’s hidden underneath. She has on a black motorcycle jacket and fishnet stockings fastened at the top with a very visible garter belt. It’s sexy as hell.

  As my mind instantly flashes to how hot Delilah would look in fishnets and a garter belt, I can feel my dick grow several inches. Dammit! That woman is killing me from fourteen hours away. Just when I thought all the sexual thoughts for her were gone, my sick head goes right there and drags me back to the last night we spent together. I should have fucked Delilah on the hood of the car and gotten the urge out of my
system.

  When Legs makes her way over to the bar, she orders a shot of Crown Royal. My body needs to release all the pent up lust Delilah is putting in my brain, so I order two shots of Jack Daniels and walk to the end of the bar. It doesn’t take much to get her attention. I’ve seen her in the bar before. She’s usually on the arm of some big biker dude, but tonight she’s alone, and being alone only means she’s no longer with her man. Damn him for being a heartbreaker, but I will be the perfect person to take out that much needed aggression I can see just behind her eyes.

  I place a shot in front of her, and we say nothing as we down the whiskey. I love the feel of it running down my throat. It burns as it trickles down, reminding me how alive I really am and how alive I will feel when I mount this girl against the wall in the back room.

  Now it’s time to hustle. Turning my body toward her, I say, “You look like you need a distraction.”

  Legs’s body turns to mine and she looks right into my eyes. “I know what your reputation is, Jake Evans.”

  My name gets around to all the chicks. We never need to have the meaningless introductions because they all know who I am and I don’t waste my time getting their names when I won’t remember it in the morning.

  “Good, so you know what I’m about and what a talented distraction I can be.” I give her my traditional smirk and nod my head toward the back. She moves her eyes down my body and back up then nods her head toward the back, licking her lips on the way.

  I’m now pressing Legs up against the wall in the backroom. Her tits have fallen out of her bra and are bouncing wildly as I’m loosening her up with my fingers. She’s moaning loudly with every expert movement coming from my hand as she attempts to kiss me, but I refuse by taking her nipple into my mouth and clamping down. She screams in pleasure and pain. I’m about to unzip my pants, readying myself to slam it into her when Shinedown comes blaring from my pocket. Bad fucking timing, D. I let it go to voicemail and continue my assault on the leggy blonde when Shinedown breaks up the party again. Then again and again.

  Fuck! She’s relentless. Setting the hot, leggy girl down, I tell her, “Hang on a second.”

  “Are you serious right now?” She pulls her skirt down, noticeably pissed that I’m pulling my phone out of my pocket. “I’m out of here. You are an asshole!”

  “Yeah, yeah. Sticks and stones, bitch,” I shout back then run my finger across the screen, answering the phone. “This better be good, cupcake,” I say and then notice right away she’s not okay.

  Delilah is crying into the phone, sobbing uncontrollably, and I feel like a fucking douche for refusing her first four phone calls. “I’m s—s—sorry, Jake. I didn’t know who else to call. I don’t want to upset Presley with my emotional crap.”

  “It’s fine. What happened, sweetheart?” I take a seat on the stack of unopened beer cases and try as best as I can to mask the anger I’m feeling. I’ve heard her tears before and I can’t handle them; it breaks me knowing she’s hurting.

  “Emerson and I had a fight. He was just so mean.”

  So much for managing my anger, that fucking douche is no good for her and I don’t need to meet him to know what a prick he is. I’ve dealt with several like him when I was in school. They’re a bunch of overgrown mama’s boys who bully the weaker guy to make their dicks look bigger, and right now, I want to pound his damn face.

  “What the hell happened?” My voice is low and seething.

  “I won’t tell you if you’re going to get crazy, Jake.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean? If someone hurt you, I want to hurt them. It’s not rocket science, cupcake. Now, what the fuck did that douche bag do?” It’s hard to control the volume of my voice, but dammit, she can piss me off faster than any person I’ve ever met.

  “I mean it, Jake. If you’re just going to insult him and act crazy, then I’ll hang up.” Through her tears, she can still manage to be snappy and demanding.

  “Fuck!” I take a deep breath, calming my raging nerves. Lowering my voice to a more respectable level, I say, “Okay, I’m calm. Now spill it.”

  She starts crying again, but I can still understand what she’s saying. “It’s really no big deal; he just hurt my feelings.” She blows her nose into a tissue and I cringe, wishing she would have muted the phone. “We were sitting at dinner with some of the guys he goes to school with and their smart girlfriends when they all started talking about boring math and financial crap. Like, I’m the only person at the table who doesn’t know what the Sam-hell they’re talking about. Anyway, when one of his stupid classmates asks me a question I just responded in the best way I could. Basically, I was admitting my ignorance to their conversation.” The tears start flowing again as she cries. “On our way home, Emerson told me that I was an embarrassment tonight and he was ashamed to have me as a girlfriend.”

  “That mother fucker!” I shout into the phone, not caring about the promise I made seconds ago. “I’m going to drive fourteen hours to kick the living shit out of him!”

  I begin to pace. The nerve of that guy to call Delilah an embarrassment. He has no idea the kind of woman she is. Just because she’s not some math genius, doesn’t make her stupid. I continue my pacing as the need to protect her takes over my body. Like the night at the races and when Drake went ballistic, I need to protect her; I have to make sure she’s okay.

  Giggling is coming from the other end. Is she laughing at me? I hardly think this is funny.

  “Oh, Jakey, you can be such a dramatic sometimes.” I loathe that nickname and she knows it.

  She continues to laugh at my expense, starting off quiet and quickly moving to obnoxious. With the sound of her happy again, my anger starts to dissolve and soon I’m chuckling along with her. I was pretty crazy for a moment and the need I have to protect her is overwhelming me with confusion.

  “So what did I interrupt when I called bawling like a baby?”

  “Do you really want to know?”

  “Oh, sorry about that. Was she mad?” Delilah’s voice is quiet, sad again.

  “She’ll get over it. Seriously, though, you shouldn’t let him treat you that way. You’re not an embarrassment and he’s a stupid fucking idiot if he can’t see that.” I hate that man already and I should probably never meet him. It might turn out ugly.

  “I’ll be okay. Thanks again for listening. Don’t forget I will be in town in a couple of months to help set up the nursery.” Silence grows between us, then she says, “You’re my best friend, you know that right?”

  Thinking about her question, then hearing the words out loud, I do feel like we are best friends and this surprises me. It’s unsettling how easy it is to be with her and talk about shit I shouldn’t be talking about.

  “You’re welcome, sweetheart.” I lower my voice and admit for the first time that she’s right. I hunch forward on the cases of beer I’m sitting on and rub my hand over the top of my head. At the end of the summer, when she said we were going to be best friends, I didn’t know it then, but what else would explain my desire to protect her. “As hard as this is for me to admit, you were right.”

  “Right about what?” she whispers back.

  The silence is deafening between us and I really miss seeing every expression on her face. She is magnetic to me. Every emotion she feels pulls me that much closer to her charm and energy.

  With reasons unbeknownst to me, I want her to know what she means to me. “You really are my best friend.” My voice is still quiet. So quiet, I wonder if I said it aloud at all. That’s until she replies.

  “I told you.”

  Chapter 8

  Delilah

  I am running through the airport like a mad woman, trying to make my flight. I just got off the phone with Drake, telling me Presley’s water broke and they’re heading to the hospital.

  I’ve been reading up on labor and delivery recently. Several internet sites say a woman’s first baby can take several hours, even days, to give birth, and
I really hope that’s true in her case. The flight to Detroit will take two hours and then another three to get Sulfur Heights. I tell Drake I will be there in less than five hours and he just laughs. Apparently, he does not know how fast I drive, and when I’m in a hurry, I drive even faster.

  Last week I shipped clothes to the Evans’ house, knowing I wouldn’t want to hassle with checking a bag or fighting with people in the baggage claim area. I’ve also added a Priceline app to my phone as time got closer to her due date; all this week I’ve been memorizing flights from Memphis to Detroit. Once I get the phone call, all I have to do is book the flight and rental car in one reservation. Fifteen minutes later, I’m running for dear life to get to my gate and the entire way I’m thinking to myself how technology is an amazing thing.

  Once boarded and settled in my seat, the plane taxi’s out onto the runway, then we’re in the air, heading north toward Detroit. I take out my iPod and scroll through my songs. I come across Blame It On the Boom Boom by Black Stone Cherry and start laughing to myself. The song immediately takes me back to the weekend we put the nursery together.

  Jake was in rare form that night. We all were staying up all night, high on Red Bull and candy. I was only in town for a night and we had very little time to get things perfect before I left. Jake, Jeremy and I sang, argued and decorated while we put the room together. I painted a boarder of flowers midway on the wall while Jake and Jeremy spent hours assembling the canopy crib. They bickered putting it together, Jake cursing me the entire time because I made him buy it. Boys have no sense sometimes. It is the perfect bed to accompany her fairy garden themed room.

  After the toys were put together and the last fairy picture hung on the wall, we stood back and smiled with satisfaction. I crashed on Presley’s couch for a couple of hours before Jake had to drive me to the airport, sending me back to Memphis. I remember the feeling of sadness when I’d boarded the plane. I hadn’t seen Jake in months, only hearing his voice or reading his messages, and our visit had been brief and bittersweet.