Blind Love (Sulfur Heights Series)

by Brannon, M. S.

  Darcie looks over to me with an accusatory eye. “Is he drinking again?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him in days.” She’s looking me up and down, questioning me, knowing I’m hiding something. Which I am, but I can’t tell her Jeremy’s killed Carter because I’m not really sure if he did; he’s never actually said a word.

  “I don’t believe you. I can always tell when you’re hiding something, Jake,” Darcie hisses in my directions and Delilah’s eyes grow when she walks back into the room, holding Mia in her arms.

  “I really don’t care what you believe, and now isn’t the time to have this discussion,” I snap back then stand to Delilah’s side, grabbing Mia from her arms.

  The vein in Darcie’s head is starting to show and she’s rubbing the scar on the inside of her wrist, her telltale sign that she’s going to fly off the handle. Before she can even open her mouth, though, Reggie intercedes, snapping her back. “Now’s not the time for this.” He motions over to Drake’s door then, glaring at both of us, walks to the door and disappears behind it.

  Our feud is put aside for now and my gut is aching with dread, knowing it’s been since the shooting that I’ve seen Drake, really since any of us have seen Drake. He’s locked himself away, suffering in his pain alone. Not even his daughter could get him to open the door, but Reggie has a way of getting through to Drake—to all of us—and I hope this time is just like all the times before.

  Angry shouting falls from the other side of the door when Jeremy emerges from the bathroom, looking slightly better, but still completely different from his normal self.

  Reggie comes from Drake’s room and shakes his head. “I don’t know if he’ll ever come out.”

  Several minutes go by and we all sit in the living room in silence; every one of us is deep in thought as the pain and grief hangs in the air, choking all of us. Our family is barely hanging on by a thread. I can feel a negative presence living around all of us and it has come the moment Presley died. The emotions are boiling, on the verge of spilling over, and I get the sickest feeling in my gut that this will all get worse before it gets better.

  Another several minutes go by, and I can hardly stand it anymore. I carry Mia over to Drake’s room and open the door. If this little angel won’t get him out, then no one will. We wait and listen to the deep bass of Drake’s voice, and the happy chatter of Mia’s. Then, for the first time in days, Drake is finally standing before us.

  He looks as well as anyone would in his situation. His eyes are bloodshot and swollen, his shoulders slumped over, and his head is hanging down—defeated. He’s a husk of a man. With Mia in his arms, we all follow suit and head down the back steps behind him.

  Fastening his baby into the Chevelle, Drake backs out of the drive and waits for all of us to follow. Delilah and I get in the car with Jeremy as Darcie and Reggie get into his Camaro. The rain comes from the sky as we drive to the funeral home and say goodbye to a member of our family.

  Delilah

  The experience this morning was out of this world. We’ve all been trying to function as best as we can, knowing today is going to be a horrible day, however, when Jeremy came in and Darcie and Jake started to get heated with one another, it left me confused and scared. They are best friends, and if they do fight, it’s never with the rage-filled eyes I witnessed this morning. I don’t want my last night in Sulfur Heights to be filled with fighting and rage. I want to remember my friends for the happy, crazy people they are, and not the dysfunctional family that’s starting to fall apart.

  When I see Drake for the first time, my heart breaks into a thousand pieces. He looks like a walking shell—skinny and pale. It’s apparent he hasn’t eaten or slept in days, only lain in his room and cried.

  The rain is freefalling when we arrive at the funeral home. Razorblade butterflies are swarming inside my stomach, thinking about what we are about to do. Jake helps me from the back seat and doesn’t let go of my hand as we walk up the sidewalk to the funeral home. In fact, he’s holding it just as firmly as I’m holding his. The air is chilled and raises goosebumps on my skin. Emotions are high and the tension is a thick, invisible cloud, cloaking all of us in this anxious energy.

  The low lighting sets the solemn mood as we are ushered through the double doors and our eyes are directed to the focal point at the front of the room. A black casket is half open, my best friend lying inside with white roses shrouding the top. Wreaths we’ve picked out while making the arrangements are present and surrounding the casket on either side. I remember Presley telling me how much she loved the wild flowers behind the house and we’ve requested a beautiful combination of orange, purple and yellow flowers to be woven into the arrangement among the roses.

  I look around at my new friends and my heart breaks even more at knowing this will be the last day I spend with them. I have to cut my ties tonight and head back to Memphis to live the life I’ve been raised to live. Guilt overwhelms me, thinking about my petty feelings at a time like this. I’m standing in the back of a funeral home, staring at my best friend who’s just lost her life, and I’m worried about severing relationships I should have never made in the first place.

  The phone message I got from my mother yesterday keeps my head focused on what I’m supposed to do.

  She knew exactly how to keep me thinking about my future because she pulled out the biggest guilt trip of all, my father. I’d never defied my dad and would never plan to, and she knows it. It was almost like she knew I was allowing my heart to guide me this last and final trip. With her sick radar, she knew it was time to put a final stake through the relationship with my delinquent friends.

  When I activated my voice message, my father’s deep bass voice came booming through. “Delilah, your mother has told me what happened to your friend and I’m truly sorry, pumpkin. Losing anyone is never easy. But I want to remind you that I agree with your mother, although you’ve made friends with those folks in Michigan, you have obligations and commitments waiting for you in Memphis.

  “Your big heart can sometimes cloud the better judgment you’ve been raised with. You need to know this is for your own good. You will have an exceptional life with Emerson and he loves you. Just remember as your heart is broken, we are your family and will always be there for you. After tomorrow, say goodbye for good and come home so you can move forward with your life. Presley would want that for you. We all want that for you. Love you, pumpkin.”

  My father was right and I knew Mother and he loved me even though they showed it differently. I’d always been a Daddy’s girl and hated to disappoint him; he had always been in my corner. Growing up, I wish he had been around more, but as an adult, I respect he was trying to make a name for himself and his family.

  He’s provided for me in ways a lot of families cannot provide for their children and I am grateful. I owe this to him, to be the daughter he raised.

  I squeeze Jake’s hand hard, willing his strength to help me get through the next several hours. Now I have to say goodbye to my childhood friend, and later, I have to say goodbye to my best friend and the man I love.

  Mrs. Fields takes Mia from Drake’s arms and walks back to a small room. We all stand in the back of the room, watching Drake slowly walk to Presley’s still body. Faint sobs and tears erupt from my body as I watch him hunch forward and lie half his body on top of hers. His shoulders are quaking up and down from the deep despair. I can’t stand to see him there alone.

  Before my feet can take a single step, Jake has read my mind. He looks to Reggie and Jeremy, nodding his head in Drake’s direction. Then all the brothers walk up the aisle, me and Darcie trailing behind them. Reggie stands behind his right shoulder and Jake on his left. They lift their hands and squeeze. A small gesture with a big meaning; saying, It’s okay. We are all here for you. Jeremy, Darcie and I follow suit until we are all holding onto Drake and listening to him pour out his heart.

  Words, tears, words, sobs, fall from his shattered heart until we a
re all overtaken by his emotion. We stand behind him and morn in unison. Then he leans down, kisses Presley’s lips, walks to the back and he’s gone.

  The remainder of the service is a blur as I relive the last moments Drake was here. I witnessed what it’s like to have your soul mate ripped carelessly from your world and how it would be impossible to overcome.

  As much as I love the Evans family, this is an emotion I don’t want to experience. I’ve only just let Jake move into my heart, but if I allow him to stay there, who’s to say this won’t happen to me? I could be Drake and be left suffering the remainder of my life, broken and dismantled.

  I have to let them go. I have to move away from this place, not only as allegiance to my family, but for the life expectancy of my heart. I need to protect it. I need to sever everything that’s unknown and scary. I need to sever anything that will be my undoing. I need to sever Jake from my life.

  Chapter 23

  Jake

  A couple of hours pass by and the torture of Presley’s funeral is over.

  The private viewing was worse than shoving your hand in a bucket of acid, though. Watching my brother fall apart was enough to make the toughest men—my brothers and I included—release our emotions right along with him. At first, I felt like a pussy for letting Delilah see me cry, but then she just sunk in closer to my body as if to say that she was here for me and loves me. Then I finally let a couple of tears fall.

  A few people we did not know came to the service, mostly girls from college where Presley attended school. After a brief burial service at the cemetery, we pile in our cars and head home.

  No one speaks, we ride in silence and when I look over to my brother, Jeremy, a feeling of sadness seeps through me once again. I’m the only person who knows his secret, and whether I like it or not, he’s going to disappear. Either he will be spending the rest of his life in federal prison or on the run. In either eventuality, the loss of him in my life will be huge. I depend on my brother, he’s the other half of me—the better half of me—and now he’s going to be ripped away from my life. This makes me hate. This makes me hate Carter and hate everything he’s stood for.

  When we pull in the driveway, Jeremy slams on his breaks, stopping suddenly and Delilah is pushed forward in the back seat. I look out the windshield to see Drake is lying in the middle of the driveway. He’s passed out on the concrete in the pouring rain, lying in the very spot Presley has died.

  “Oh, my, what’s he doing?” Delilah whispers from the back seat.

  We all get out of the car as Reggie and Darcie pull in the driveway behind us. Drake is holding the neck of an empty bottle of whiskey, passed out drunk on the soaking wet concrete.

  “Where’s Mia?” Delilah asks then leaves us to deal with our brother when she runs to the back steps and up into the house. Darcie and Reggie come up behind us and I can hear him tell Darcie to go inside to help Delilah with Mia.

  “Come on; let’s get him up.” Reggie and I bend down, pulling Drake’s limp, six foot four inch frame up. He stumbles, partly awake, barely walking on his own when we drag him to the garage and lie him on the couch. He doesn’t move, only passes out again, still clasping the empty bottle of Jack Daniels. “We need to keep an eye on him. I’ve never seen him this fucked up.” Reggie looks over to all of us and Jeremy steps forward.

  “I will stay with him. It’s the least I can do for what I’ve done.” He doesn’t meet our eyes as Reggie and I both share confused and worried looks.

  “What happened, Jeremy?” Reggie asks.

  “You’ll find out soon enough.” It’s all he says as he sits on the couch next to Drake and detaches himself from the conversation.

  I shake my head to Reggie and we decide to leave the situation alone for now. I know exactly what he’s talking about—well, I think I do—but it’s not my place to say anything to Reggie until I know for sure what’s really going on.

  ***

  The day goes by slowly and painfully. Reggie and Darcie have retreated to their room, leaving Delilah and me to tend to Mia. Delilah is squeezing and holding her, barely putting her down; basically spoiling Mia rotten. I’m sure it’s because she will be leaving for Memphis tomorrow, but not if I can help it.

  I won’t let her leave unless I’m coming with her, and then I’ll help pack up her stuff to come live with me in Michigan. She is now my forever and always. Before, I never thought I’d ever want to be tied to a girl, but watching what Drake is going through now and thinking back to everything he’s done for Presley—and Reggie for that matter with Darcie—I want to protect and love a woman for the rest of my life. However long that may be. The only person I can live this way for is Delilah. Now I just need to find the right words and the perfect time to tell her.

  After we tuck Mia in bed for the night, Delilah and I retreat to the basement. My initial plan has been to sleep on the couch, but since she’s arrived, Delilah hasn’t wanted to be left alone, and come to think of it, neither have I. Too much is happening right now and being alone with my thoughts is tortuous, holding Delilah takes all of that away.

  Giving her space, I step out of my room to let her change into her pajamas and get herself tucked under the covers. She is so beautiful. It’s been impossible to lie next to her at night without wanting to kiss her and make love to her. Make love. That is something I would have never done, and now it’s all I can think about doing with Delilah.

  Sure, I’ve fucked, screwed and plowed, but I’ve never made love. Actually, I’ve never had sex in a bed before. I lost my virginity in the back of the Challenger when I was fifteen and every experience has been practically the same ever since. All my conquests are short and sweet. Even with the redhead and her friend—who’ve been my only threesome—we’ve christened the couch, kitchen and shower, but never her bedroom. Too much emotion happens when you’re screwing in a bed, and in my fucked up mind, I’ve been afraid it would give a woman the wrong idea. Now, though, I want Delilah to have the wrong idea. I want her to feel love, desire and passion because that’s what I’m feeling.

  I strip to my boxers and climb in bed next to her and we get in our standard sleeping position; chest to chest with her head tucked into the crook of my arm. The feel of her body next to mine is undeniable. She is meant to be here—in the protection of my arms. Thinking back, I’ve always felt whole when she is lying in my arms, but I’ve been too blind and too ignorant to accept it.

  Although I can’t look into her eyes, I can feel the sadness spilling over and I want to take it all away. I want her to know things will be better soon—it’s just right now that it hurts, however it will get better.

  I lift my hand to her cheek and whisper, “It will be okay. It’s hard right now, but this pain will slowly go away.” The tears fill in her eyes, leaking onto my chest and I inwardly curse myself for making her cry.

  “How long did it take for the pain of losing your mom and dad to go away?” she whispers back to me.

  I was so young when they died and I was sad when my dad died, knowing what he had become in his life and what he could have done to be better. He owed money to powerful people, and when they didn’t get paid, people died. He died.

  “I was sad when my dad died, but he wasn’t around much when I was little, so it didn’t take too long to get over him.”

  She moves her arms around my waist, holding onto my body, pressing it closer to mine. “What about your mom?”

  “What about her?” I say with anger in my voice, knowing I don’t want to talk about her, but Delilah always has a way of making me sing like a canary. “I wasn’t sad at her funeral. I actually wasn’t really sad she died.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she was dead to me long before she died.” A sigh releases from my throat as the hurt builds up inside my chest.

  Feelings for my mother always trigger me to be stressed, tense and fueled with anger. I numb all those feelings with whiskey or women, yet now, I don’t want to numb the pain. I want to re
lease it, and Delilah is the only person I’m comfortable enough with to have this discussion.

  I take a chance on her and let my broken heart spill. “I was only sad that she never loved me.”

  Delilah lifts her head from my chest and looks me straight in the eyes. “What did she do to you, Jake?” Her eyes are glossy and hurt-filled. They’re pleading with me to tell her why I am the way I am. Why I feel like a piece of shit and worthless to anyone who’s in my life.

  Releasing a deep sigh, I cave. For the first time, I let the words fall from my mouth and expose the darkest feelings I’vevowed never to share. “She never wanted us—well, Jeremy and me anyway.” Delilah looks to me, needing more. Releasing a deep sigh, I spill my guts. “She got pregnant with Reggie when she was seventeen then quickly married his dad. According to her numerous comments, Reggie’s dad was the only man for her, and from what Reggie’s said, she was young and beautiful and drug free. I guess she was happy. Then his dad just up and vanished, taking everything they had with him. All the money, valuables and car, but he left the house and Reggie behind. Apparently, this broke her. She became hateful and turned to drugs.

  “When she hooked up with my father, she got pregnant within the first week they met and loathed him for it. Nine months later, Jeremy and I were born.” Delilah lays her head back down, tucking herself in, and lightly cries from my fucked up story. My voice is soft—gravelly even—but I confess everything I’ve ever felt for my mother. I spill my guts, hoping Delilah can see beyond my messed up past and love me in the present.

  “My first memory of my mother was when she slapped me across the face for lying about the broken glass in the kitchen. I don’t have a single good memory of her, not like Reggie does. It’s no secret she despised me and Jeremy. She told us every single day how much she hated us. How she wished she’d drowned us at birth. The only time she would relent was when she was too fucking cracked out to function or when Reggie would step in.”