by Alla Kar
Jace ran his fingers through his dark hair. “Look, we both know you haven’t been doin’ good without her. Ever since your fuckin’ dad made you leave her—”
“Shut up.”
Jace sighed. “I’m not tryin’ to talk about your dad, Boone. I’m just saying that you love the girl. Your dad should understand.”
Well, he doesn’t. That’s the bottom line. We didn’t talk the rest of our lunch break. I listened to the traffic from the road and drowned myself in water. I’d gotten used to the heat since I’d worked in it for years, but I never felt hydrated enough.
Jace and I climbed back onto the roof and started working. The hammer felt heavy in my hand all day, and regardless of how many times I counted the pounds of the hammer, my mind drifted to her.
Everything about her.
***
My index finger smeared blood against the bottom of her window. The trellis I had climbed was full of roses and the thorns tore my hands to shreds, but it was worth every drop of blood.
The room was quiet, but I knew she was awake because I could hear the soft sounds of her heavy breaths from her bed. Carefully, I climbed into the window and stepped down on the plush carpet. The room was unfamiliar because I’d never been there. We’d only kissed three days before, and I couldn’t get enough of her. I’d watched her from a distance for years, wondering what it would be like to pursue her. But Dad made it clear that I was to stay away.
The only difference between then and now was that I couldn’t stop myself any longer. The urge to feel that tanned skin and brush those blushed cheeks had overwhelmed me to the point where I had to touch her or go crazy.
“Boone, is that you?” she whispered, her soft voice filling the darkness.
“Yeah, Raven. It’s me. I want you to get dressed and come with—”
Bam!
Something shattered downstairs and my heart thudded in my chest.
“You sorry son of a bitch! You don’t care about anyone but your damn self! I didn’t want this!”
“Says the fucking whore!” Mr. Sawyer yelled.
My heart slammed against my ribs. That was what she’d meant by World War III. Her house. Her parents. A sniffle came from her direction and I crossed the space quickly. Her covers were soft and I sank into them, grabbing her and pulling her to my chest. I couldn’t see her, but I felt her everywhere.
Soft skin, smooth hair, and she smelled like Heaven.
“Do you want to come somewhere with me?” I whispered into the top of her head.
She pulled away and her bedside lamp filled the room, illuminating the huge space around us. I knew they had money, and that their house was huge, but this was one ginormous bedroom.
Her green eyes lingered on mine for several seconds before she nodded, her plump lips stuck between her teeth. She didn’t ask where we were going or why; I was pretty sure it didn’t matter. She wanted to be anywhere but here. “Get dressed,” I whispered.
She pulled the covers back and started getting dressed. I’d watched her for years at school, never having the balls to break my dad’s rule and speak to her until she found me in the woods. It was the most exhilarating experience, wanting her. I never knew it was anything more than ‘wanting something you can’t have’ until we kissed. I knew in that one moment that I’d never want anyone else again. And I sure as hell didn’t want her with anyone else. I’d break anyone’s neck that tried to kiss her.
Five minutes later we were climbing down the trellis and running across her back yard. The trees in the distance swayed in the humid wind. Sweat dripped down my back. The moonbeams showed us the path, not that I didn’t know it by heart, and we made it to the treehouse in less than ten minutes.
The battery operated light I’d borrowed from my dad was still on, showing the bed I’d made us. Josie smiled up at me, and it went straight to my dick. God, I would be completely turned on by a simple smile. “Will you sleep with me tonight?” I asked, trying to hide my nerves. Why was I so freaking nervous? I hoped she didn’t think I was trying to get lucky.
She squeezed my hand and walked toward the tree house, climbing up and curling into one of the covers.
“I’ll take that as a yes?” I asked.
She laughed as I made my way to her. Knowing I had put that smile on her face made the fear of being caught evaporate. I didn’t care if my dad saw me. Or Mr. Sawyer. She was smiling because of me. I had made her happy.
The moment I crawled under the covers, Josie stopped smiling and glanced up at me. All my nerves disappeared. The moonbeams brightened her face, and the beauty there stunned me. Even though her eyes were red and puffy from crying, and her hair tangled, she was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen.
“Thank you, Boone.”
Tracing my fingertip against her chin, I leaned down and pressed my lips against hers for the second time. “Anytime.”
***
That anytime had turned into all the time. Every damn night for a year I’d held her in that fucking treehouse that I’d had since I was seven.
“Boone!” someone yelled.
What? I turned to find my dad hovering over me. That’s where the sun went. “What is it?” I asked, looking down at my half-finished side.
The worry line in Dad’s forehead told me that he knew what I had been thinking about. I was sure it showed all over my face. “Boone,” Dad said. “Don’t do this again.”
Anger soared through me. How dare he tell me who I can care about? I loved her. It wasn’t some schoolyard crush. Why can’t he understand?
“I’m not,” I snapped. “What do you need?”
Dad sighed, placing his hands on his hips. The gray in his hair showed me just how old he was getting.
“It’s sundown. We’re heading out for the day. I want you to go home and get some rest.”
In other words, leave and stop thinking about her. Before he could say anything else, I grabbed my tools and loaded them into my truck. The ten-minute drive home was quiet. The radio stayed off, my window open. The feeling and sound reminded me of her. The way she placed her bare feet on the glove compartment of my truck, her toes curling into the sunlight. The lavender scent of her shampoo that drove me crazy. The memories smothered me and it was hard to swallow.
When I heard she’d accepted the scholarship to California, I knew why she was doing it. Night after night we’d lain and talked about moving in together after she graduated. How she didn’t even consider taking the scholarship because it was too far away. And that’s why she did end up taking it. Because far away was where she wanted to be. Far away was where I’d pushed her to be. It had only taken two weeks away from her for me to shove my family under the bus and call her. That’s when I knew for certain that she was moving on: her phone was disconnected. I’d spent hours thinking of things to say to her. The fifty messages I’d sent through Facebook had gone unread, until one day she just deactivated her account. It took me an entire month of trying to get in touch with her to realize that she’d moved to move on, and I needed to try and do the same.
Too bad it didn’t work.
I pulled into my small two-story house on the outskirts of Dad’s property. I could see his house—my childhood home—across the field, but I rarely ever visited. After living with Dad and being forced to stay away from Josie, I couldn’t stand the place. I moved out the day I turned eighteen and fixed up the house Dad was going to give me anyway.
Duke sat on the front porch, his big white head resting on his front two paws. I was a strong believer in the “don’t bully my breed” campaign. That pit bull wouldn’t hurt a fly. He barreled toward me, almost knocking me over. “Calm down, boy. I’m gonna get ya some food.”
He continued to jump like a rabbit as we made our way into the house. The dog food bag was almost empty; I’d have to make a run to town soon. Duke’s tongue dripped against the tile floor of the laundry room before he dove into his bowl, grunting like a pig. Fat ass.
After stripping out
of my clothes, I took a shower and relaxed into the warmth. Working on roofs isn’t the easiest job in the world, and my muscles almost always ached. It would be nice to have someone to rub them for me. I shook my head because I knew who had done it best. For such tiny hands, she’d worked those muscles like a pro.
Dammit, stop. Torturing myself wouldn’t bring her back or make things better. I hurried into the shower, got dressed, and made my way into the living room. Duke was snoring in the recliner—the one he’d claimed when he was three months old. The ceiling fan was the only other sound in the house.
The eerie quiet engulfed me like quicksand. Everything was starting to remind me of her and it was slowly drowning me. The couch where we’d lain together to watch TV and cuddle. The kitchen cabinet. The goddamn wall.
There wasn’t enough room in that fucking house for her memories and me. I felt trapped. Like she was able to take the easy way out and leave. I was the one stuck here to relive them. My boots hit the ground with a thud and I ran. The woods had swallowed all my problems as a kid, but then became my problems when I got older.
The woods had led me to her more than she knew. There had been times I watched her dance between the trees when we were young. Or cry against the base of the giant oak on our land. But the one time that mattered most was the moment I let my guard down. She’d caught me before I’d caught her.
I made my way through the worn path I knew by heart. Walking this in my sleep would have been a piece of cake. When the giant oak came into view, I veered left and found the treehouse.
Granted, it was in a lot better shape now than it had been before. When Josie left for college, I burned it to the ground. Jace had put the fire out before my father found out. He’d been the one to drag me back to my bedroom, too. He knew exactly what I went through after everything. He knew I was in love with her.
When I finally came to my senses a couple of months later, I rebuilt the thing from the ground up, and it was huge now. It actually had a room and windows, like a mini house without electricity. I slept there for weeks after I built it.
But it only made it worse.
I climbed the steps and leaned back against the wall. I hadn’t put anything in the tree house, so it was completely bare. Just one pillow and a blanket folded neatly in the corner. My eyes turned toward the path and I almost expected to see her there. Jace had said she was coming into town.
Is she here now? I wanted to go see. I’d climbed the trellis—like old times—after she left. All of her things were still there. The sweet scent of her still lingered, but it felt like a ghost town.
Screwing my eyes shut, I grabbed the pillow and lay back against the hard wood floor. I had too much hope about her being home. When she didn’t show up for Thanksgiving and Christmas, I knew she was really running from me.
It stung—still did—to know she’d be avoiding me for the rest of her life. Couldn’t come see the daddy she looked up to so much. The daddy that forced me to break her heart.
If she only fucking knew …
I clenched my fists and rested them against my forehead. This was the most fucked up I’d ever been. More so than loving a girl from a distance for three years. More than my parents’ divorce. More than getting shipped away to my mother’s for “disobedience” problems. Those disobedience problems included sneaking onto the Sawyers’ land. Asking Dad if I could ask Josie to the dance. And most of all, loving the daughter of the man my father hated. All things I got my ass whooped for.
No one knew the real reason my father hated Mr. Sawyer. Only my older brother, who refused to tell me after months and months of asking. I finally gave up and decided it had to be something bad because I’d never seen anyone hate someone as much as those two men hated each other.
A slight breeze cooled the angry heat warming my skin. The coolness relaxed my tense muscles and I rested my head against the pillow.
I had run from my house to avoid memories only to end up at the place where they all started.
Chapter Four
Josie
The two-hour ride from Little Rock airport to the dirt roads I called home was the most nerve-racking ride I’d ever taken. Aside from taking my directions, the taxi driver didn’t speak once.
When the man turned down the long road that only our house stood on, I could feel my heartbeat jackhammering in my neck. The house was immaculate, like always. The grass had been recently mowed, and the shrubs trimmed. But as beautiful as it was, it looked informal and cold. Or maybe that was because I knew what lay behind the perfect paint and false impressions of expensive taste.
The taxi driver let out a long whistle and turned to face me. His worn face showed the evidence of a hard-worker, and by his awed look, I would say he was impressed by the house. “This your house, youngin’?” he asked, his southern accent deep.
I shook my head. “My parents’,” I said, fumbling through my purse for some cash.
Turning his cap backward, his gray hair poked out at the top of his forehead. “It’s nice. Your dad a lawyer or something?”
I snorted. “No. Old money. My family owns the only logging company within two hundred miles of here.” I handed him way more cash than necessary. I felt sorry for anyone who had to drive out into the middle of nowhere and experience the—nothing.
He thanked me and helped me get my suitcase out of the trunk before pulling out and leaving me behind in the dust from the gravel road.
I waited for the dust to settle before I slowly made my way toward the house. No movement came from inside, but my mother’s SUV sat in the driveway. I knew she was home.
I climbed the porch, past the huge white pillars, and knocked on the door. I could make out the shape of my mother walking toward the door through the oval of glass etched with designs.
My fingers clutched around my suitcase as the door swung opened. My mother’s flawless face stared back at me. The nervousness radiating off of her made me even more uncomfortable. Should I hug her? She never hugged me much before.
“Hi, Josephine,” she said, her voice the same as it ever was. It was the bags underneath her eyes and the way her hands shook that scared me.
“Hi, Momma.”
She opened the door wider, pushing a strand of frizzled blonde hair from her face. The sound of my suitcase being pulled across the wooden floor was the only noise in the house. It had never been loud, but it was so quiet. Scary quiet.
She shut the door behind her, leaving her hands folded behind her back. “Not much has changed.”
The painful lump in my throat felt like fire. I was supposed to be happy to be visiting my parents, the only place I’d ever called home. But it didn’t feel warm or homey. It felt like a sterile hospital.
“You should take your bags upstairs and we can head to your grandmother’s.”
What? I nearly choked. Grandma and Mom didn’t have a great relationship. I couldn’t believe she would willingly go. Dad had to force her to go see her own mother. She’d always been nice to me and I appreciated it; she was more like a mother to me growing up than my own. “Grandma’s?” I asked.
“Yes,” she snapped. “She made me promise to bring you over. And then we can head to the hospital. I told your father that you were comin’.”
Daddy’s face popped into my mind, and it took everything I had to push back the tears. Daddy was dying. I nodded and bolted up the stairs before my mother could see the sadness on my face. We didn’t need to add to the discomfort in the room.
My room was the last one on the left down a terribly long hallway that scared me shitless as a kid. My parents’ room was all the way downstairs. Who let their kid have an entire floor to herself?
When I stepped into my old room, it felt like I had never left. The bed, the furniture, the window: it was exactly the same. Not that I’d expected my parents to throw my things away. Our relationship was rocky, but it wasn’t like they didn’t have the room for my stuff.
I sat my suitcase on the floor and crawled t
o the center of my huge bed. It felt so good, especially compared to the raggedy one I had in California. The four-post bed had been my refuge growing up. But with good memories comes the painful ones.
The way he would lean over me at night, one large hand wrapped around my headboard, the other grasping the nape of my neck. The way his hips would roll powerfully down to demolish me. Everything about him had been so, so addicting. Each movement and look. They all haunted me. And being in the room, where some of it had happened, made the pain even more relevant. More real.
“Josephine,” Mom said from the other side of the door.
I cleared my throat. “Coming.”
***
Grandma’s house was every bit as big as ours. Mom and Dad both had money growing up, and neither family was ashamed to flaunt it.
Huge shrubs lined her driveway, and a fancy fountain sat in the center of her yard. But even though Grandma’s house was modern and fancy, it still felt warm and cozy—to me, at least.
Mom parked and pulled down her visor mirror. Some things never change. She’d make sure her makeup was perfect and not a hair was out of place before going in. I couldn’t remember one time when she hadn’t done it.
I got out before Mom and walked up the stairs. Flowers lined the walkway and hung from the railings of the porch. Grandma always had a green thumb. I rang the doorbell and watched as my grandmother’s petite shape filled the glass of the door.
She flung the front door open and her smile was warm and welcoming. “Josie Sawyer. Get your beautiful grown butt in here, girl.” She reached forward and pulled me into her. Her sweet smell brought tears to my eyes. I’d forever remember that smell.
Her dangling earring poked my cheek, but I only squeezed her tighter. “I missed you, baby girl,” she whispered into my ear.
There was no denying that this was my family. Grandma’s eyes were green, and her hair was once long and blond, like mine. Her heart-shaped face made it through two generations. “I missed you, too.”