Scarred: A New Adult Romance (The Anderson Brothers Series Book 1)

by Long, Marie

  I exhale through my nose. “What I’m about to tell you can’t leave this room, got it? I mean, seriously, Chris. This is personal shit. Promise me.”

  “I swear. My lips are sealed.” Chris nods curtly. “What happened?”

  As I gather my thoughts, I stare at the TV. Some toned woman in spandex demonstrates a freestyle exercise machine. “Denise’s boyfriend, William, assaulted and tried to rape her.”

  Chris’s jaw drops. “Holy fucking shit. What?”

  I nod in agreement. “I went to the party alone to keep an eye on the two of them.”

  “Well, damn! Glad you did. That’s some serious shit.”

  “Yeah … ”

  “How’s Denise?”

  I look in the general direction of the bathroom. I still hear the shower going. “She’s better, I think. But still shaken. She’s going to spend the night here.”

  Chris nods and shifts his weight on the armrest. “I’m glad you’re okay. And Denise, too, even if I still haven’t formally met her yet.”

  “Don’t worry, you will. But for now, don’t ask about her. Hell, don’t even tell Adri about her. I don’t want her getting all up in Denise’s business.”

  “Noted. So what happened to William?”

  I scowl. “I fucked him up good, so he’s gonna remember me for a very long time.”

  “Oh, so is that why you’re icing your arm?” He points.

  My fingers tingle, and parts of my arm starts to grow numb, so I remove the ice pack. “Something like that.”

  “Heh, I would’ve loved to see—”

  “That’s the longest-ass piss you’re taking, Chris!” Adrienne yells from his room.

  I freeze. Chris slides off the armrest. “Don’t worry, man. I got this. Adri and I are going to the club tonight, so you can relax.” He heads back to his room. “Sorry, babe. Got hungry. Now where were we?” Chris’s door slams shut.

  I leave the TV muted and stare at the announcers silently showing off another overpriced exercise machine.

  The shower stops, and I bolt up from the couch. Clothes in hand, I hurry to the bathroom door and knock softly.

  “Denise?”

  She opens the door, and a cloud of steam escapes. She has a towel wrapped and secured around her still-wet body. She smells fresh and clean, like my soap. My eyes can’t help but trace down her towel-covered body. Damn it. I shouldn’t do that. I won’t. Swallowing, I force myself to look into her eyes.

  She smiles sweetly at me. “Thanks for letting me use the shower.”

  My eyes absently drift to her neck, down to the subtle swell of her breasts accentuated by the way the towel presses against them. She shifts a little, and my eyes instantly snap back to her face. “You’re welcome. Here, you can sleep in these.” I hand her the clothes.

  “Thanks.” She holds up the jersey, checking it out. “Oh wow, my dad loves this team.”

  “You can keep it if you want. Throw your scrubs in the laundry. I’ll wash them tomorrow, okay?”

  She looks slightly surprised. “Oh, you don’t have to do that. I’ll do the laundry tomorrow. They’re just scrubs, anyway.”

  I don’t argue with her, but I plan to get up early enough tomorrow to do them before she can. Even if they are just scrubs. “Okay. Well, I’ll let you get dressed, and I’ll show you where you can sleep.”

  “Okay.”

  She shuts the door, and I stare at it. The image of her in that towel remains etched in my mind. Why does she have to be so damn beautiful?

  Returning to the couch, I sit, fidgeting with my hands. The images on the TV are a blur.

  The bathroom door opens, and I hop up from the couch again. Denise holds her scrubs in a bundle. The jersey she wears is a bit oversized on her small, lithe frame, and the hem of the shorts falls just below her knees. God, I won’t be able to sleep tonight.

  “So where should I sleep?” she asks, and I snap my gaze to her face.

  I blink a few times, trying to regain my composure. “Oh yeah, you can sleep upstairs, and I’ll sleep down here.” I tilt my head, gesturing for her to follow. I don’t really consider myself a messy person, though I’m not sure what she thinks when I show her to my room, which has a few clothes scattered around as a result of my earlier search for clothes for her. Damn, I should’ve cleaned all that up before I brought her up here. I clear my throat and hastily gather the stray clothing. “Yeah, so … uh, you can sleep in here if you like. There’s a half-bath across the hall that you can use, too.” I toss the clothes haphazardly in the closet.

  She looks around my room, apparently intrigued. A few posters of some of my favorite hip-hop artists hang by thumbtacks on the drab walls. A framed picture of Kevin and me taken at my high school graduation hangs on the wall by the door.

  Denise sits on the edge of the unmade bed, which bounces and creaks under her. I need to remember to fix that later. “Hey, Dominick,” she says.

  Something’s on her mind, I can tell. I have to be careful. Gentle. I can’t send the wrong signals. Smiling softly, I approach her. “What’s up?”

  She reaches out and takes my hands in hers, closes her eyes, and brings them to her soft lips.

  Whoa.

  “I don’t want to be up here alone,” she whispers, her warm breath caressing my hands. But there’s a little hint of fear in that whisper, and I can’t ignore it.

  I lick my lips. Well this is … I don’t know what it is. I remember a time as a kid when I’d frequently sneak into Kevin’s bed and sleep with him because I was so scared of sleeping alone, that our dead father would come back to do bad things to me again. I trusted that Kevin would protect me, just like he’d tried to before. “I’ll stay if you want me to.”

  She nods slowly, and her eyelids flutter.

  She’s thinking about it again. I don’t want to see her cry again. I pull one of my hands from hers and touch her chin, tilting it up. “Hey. I told you—I promised you—no one will hurt you ever again.”

  She wipes a stray tear away. “Stay, please … please.” Another tear falls, and I wipe it away with my thumb.

  My throat tightens. “I will.”

  She wraps her arms around me, resting her head on my chest.

  I slowly embrace her as well, my arms encircling her waist, my hands settling just above her tailbone. Inhaling her scent, I catch a whiff of pears among the soapy smell. Maybe she has pear body spray in her purse or something. “It’s okay,” I whisper. “Everything’s okay.” I walk her to the bedside, and she lies down. She nestles under the covers and huddles into a fetal position.

  I could use a good shower myself. Especially if I’m going to be in the same bed with her. I hand her the teddy bear. “Hey, I really need a shower. Are you going to be okay for like, five minutes?”

  She swallows and nods slowly, cuddling the bear close to her.

  “Okay. I’ll be right back, I promise.” I set her purse by the bed and hand her my phone. “If anything happens, use my phone and call 9-1-1. Okay?”

  She remains silent, and I don’t say anything more.

  I jump in and out of the shower in record time, foregoing a shave, even though I’m desperately in need of one.

  It’s nine o’clock by the time I’m back upstairs and in bed with her. I drape one arm across her body. She’s so warm, her skin silky soft. Her ass presses against my groin, and it’s too damn difficult to resist getting hard from it. I bunch the sheets up between my groin and her ass so she doesn't feel it as much, rest my chin on her shoulder and listen to her breathe.

  “Are you comfortable?” I ask.

  She holds my hand, brushing her lips across my fingers. “Mmm.”

  I sigh. “You’re a brave girl, you know that? Really brave.”

  Her body shudders, and I hear her sniffle. Is she crying again?

  “Denise?”

  “Why me, Dominick? Why did this have to happen to me?”

  “I’m sorry. I really am. I know it’s none of my business what went
on between you two.”

  “But I’m glad you made it your business. I’m glad you were there. I’m glad you … you … ” She presses my hand to her lips and sobs.

  Hearing her cry is just too much. She’s too beautiful—too strong—to be sad. My vision blurs as my own tears well up, but I fight them back to keep them from falling. I should tell her. Let her know how much I understand what she’s going through. “Denise, I … I have something to tell you. Please don’t freak out afterward.”

  Her sobs are reduced to small sniffles. “What is it?”

  I swallow as I carefully go over my words. It’s now or never. These demons have to come out. Licking my lips, I stare into her ebony eyes. “When I was twelve, I was raped. By my father.”

  Denise sits up in bed and faces me, staring wide-eyed. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry,” she says in short breaths, and another tear falls down her cheek.

  I sit up as well and take her hands in mine. Images of my past flood my mind. “It was the most terrifying experience of my entire life.”

  “Where is your father now?” Denise asks.

  I scowl. “Dead. He committed suicide after we called the cops on him. He took the easy way out. That coward. I still can’t find peace from it.”

  “What about Kevin? Did he—”

  “No. He was there when it happened, though. Tried to save me, but our father hit him and then tried to cut his neck open with a box cutter. Kevin fought hard, but Pops was too strong and ended up choking him out.” I think about all the tattoos Kevin has. The ones that go along the left side of his neck hide the permanent scars from that box cutter.

  Denise grimaces. “What about your mother?”

  “She lives down in Renton. She and Michael had gone out grocery shopping earlier that day.”

  “Who’s Michael?”

  “My oldest brother,” I say through clenched teeth.

  She places her hand to her mouth. “Oh.” She blinks away more tears and then wraps her arms around me and hugs tight. “Dominick, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  My body tenses at her touch. I want to enjoy it, but the demons won’t let me. Fucking demons. “You didn’t do anything, so stop apologizing. I wanted to tell you this because I want you to know that I understand what you’re going through right now. It’d be great if we could just forget about it. But things like this are etched in your mind forever. It’s something not even a counselor can help you get over.” I purse my lips and think about all those damned sessions Kevin and I had to go through while we were in middle and high school. We both hated it so much and were glad when we weren’t required to go to them any more. “We can’t let the demons run our life, though. We have to be stronger. We have to continue living our lives, finding that happiness, that peace, that balance that will suppress those demons. I guess for me, the only way I can find peace is to not let what happened to me happen to other people—like you.”

  “I understand, Dominick. I really do. Thank you so much for being there for me. I owe you my life.”

  I shake my head. “No, you don’t owe me anything, and I’m not gonna ask for anything in return. I want you to live your life and be happy. I miss your smile.”

  And just like that, her smile returns. I can’t help but smile back.

  “Thank you, Dominick.” She leans over and kisses me on the cheek. It’s soft and brief, but it still sends electric jolts of happiness throughout my body.

  She lies back down in a fetal position, and I fall in behind her. “Try to get some sleep, okay?” I say. “I’ll be right here. You’re safe, I promise.”

  She says nothing, and I continue to listen to her breathing. It soon becomes slower and more relaxed. Everything is so quiet, so peaceful, compared to last night that my ears ring. And there’s no greater sound than Denise’s breathing with my own heartbeat pounding steadily against her back.

  Chapter 20

  I wake up to the sound of my phone vibrating and realize we are still lying in the same position, my arm still around her. My body’s so stiff, I can barely move. Thank God it’s Sunday. Thoughts of Friday night’s party still haunt me, and I don’t know what I’m going to tell Larry. The sound of Denise’s steady breathing shakes me from my thoughts. I stare toward the window. The first signs of daylight are starting to show between the blinds, casting a dim, dark blue glow about the room.

  With Denise still asleep, I carefully slide my arm from around her and roll onto my back. Bones pop and crack, and I groan. One of my arms is asleep for having lain on it for so long. I fish for my phone on the floor and shut off the vibrating alarm, catching a glimpse of the time. 7:30. Oh yeah, I was gonna do her laundry.

  I slowly get out of bed, taking care not to wake her. I stretch, cracking more bones. Retrieving my old clothes and Denise’s scrubs, I trudge out of the room and downstairs to the laundry closet, which is adjacent to the kitchen. With everyone still asleep, there’s a pleasant silence in the duplex as I toss the clothes into the front-loader.

  While the clothes are going, I raid the fridge for eggs, bread, and the last of the oranges. I frown, realizing it’s Chris’s turn to go grocery shopping again.

  I crack open two eggs in a frying pan and scramble them. I hope she doesn’t mind scrambled eggs. Hell, I hope she even likes eggs. But it’s the thought that counts, right?

  I hear Chris’s door creak open but ignore it. I grab a plate from the pile of clean dishes in the sink—thank God Chris finally did them—and dump the eggs onto it.

  “Wow, something smells good,” Chris says from the hall.

  Footsteps draw closer, and I spot a figure leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen.

  “Dude! Are you cooking now?”

  I give Chris a look. “You act like I’ve never cooked before.”

  “Okay, okay. So I rarely see you cook. Can’t deny that you make a wicked chicken florentine.”

  Maybe one night I’ll invite Denise over and cook that for her. “By the way,” I say, “it’s your turn to do the grocery shopping. Is Adri still here?”

  “Yeah? Why?”

  “Good. Then she can drive your sorry ass to the store.”

  Chris groans and carefully bangs the back of his head against the doorframe. “Fucking A.”

  I rinse the orange and begin cutting it up into small slices. Denise would at least eat the orange if she hates everything else, right? I mean, I haven’t met a girl who didn’t like fruit.

  “Hey,” Chris says in a more serious tone, which makes me pause in my cutting. “So is everything cool from last night? You know … ”

  “Yeah,” I say quickly. “Everything’s cool. She’s fine.”

  “Good.” Chris nods then pushes off the doorframe. “Okay, I’m going back to bed. It’s too damn early. I don’t even know how you’re up this early. You’re weird, man.”

  I smirk. “I’m the best kind of weird.”

  Returning to my room, I find Denise sitting up in bed, flipping the pages of one of my old issues of Street Throttle Racer. Smiling, I sweep around to her bedside. She looks up at me with a start.

  “Morning,” I say. Then, skillfully holding the tray of breakfast on one palm like the waiters do, I open the blinds with my other hand. Morning sunlight filters through the window and casts over Denise’s squinty face.

  “What time is it?” she mumbles, shoving the magazine aside.

  “It’s early,” I say, then present the tray. “Made you breakfast.”

  She stares at the tray, her eyes slowly becoming less squinty, and she scoots further back in bed until her back rests against the headboard. “You made this for me?”

  “Yup.” I set the tray on her lap. “I hope it’s okay.”

  She beams. “‘Okay’? It’s amazing! I’ve never had a guy cook me breakfast in bed before. It’s very sweet. Thank you.”

  Yes! I do a small fist-pump, and she gives me an odd look, then breaks into laughter.

  “You know, you don’t have to try so hard to impres
s me.”

  I scratch the back of my head. “I’m not. I just felt like cooking something for you. You know … since I went ahead and washed your clothes and stuff.”

  “What! But I told you I would do it.”

  “Yeah, I know. But it’s done now, and I cooked you breakfast as an apology.” I avert my eyes.

  She snickers then bursts into laughter. “Oh my God, Dominick. Listen to us argue over washing a pair of hospital scrubs.”

  I have a hard time keeping a straight face, too. “It’s the principle of the thing.”

  Rolling her eyes, she skewers some eggs with her fork and then pops them in her mouth. “Wow. You not only know how to cook, you cook well! Definitely a one-of-a-kind guy. Thank you again, Dominick.”

  I exhale, relieved. “Anytime. I’m glad you like it.” I sit on the edge of the bed and watch her gobble more eggs and break off small pieces of toast. She looks so cute when she eats. “So when did you want me to take you home today?”

  Her face falls. “I … I don’t know. I guess I should go back soon. Lauren’s probably wondering what happened to me. I’ll call her later. It’s about time I tell her what happened.”

  I swallow. She doesn’t want to leave? “All right. Well, there’s no pressure, you know.”

  There’s an amused twinkle in her eye. “You’re not trying to kick me out, are you?”

  “What? No! Of course not. You can stay as long as you like.” Forever, I hope.

  She chuckles and finishes her breakfast. She gulps down the glass of milk and slides out of bed, tray in hand. “I’ll take this downstairs.”

  I swipe the tray from her. “Naw. I’ll do it. Go shower. Or go back to sleep. Or simply laze around up here. You can find another shirt in my closet to change into, if you want.”

  She gapes, and before I give her a chance to retort, I leave. Returning to the kitchen, I wash the dishes, then transfer the wet laundry to the dryer. The smell of the cooked eggs and toast still lingers in the kitchen, making me hungry, so I whip up a plate of my own. I return to the living room with it and plop down on the couch. Turning on the TV, I flip to the sports channel and indulge in last night’s scores and highlights while I finish my breakfast. My mind drifts. Tomorrow’s Monday, and if William ends up not coming to work, I know I’m going to be the first person Frank and Larry ask.