“You do know it’s not polite to eavesdrop,” Riél grumbled and sulked in the lounger.
Her head cocked to the side in a blatant challenge, which Riél chose to ignore in favor of his Hibiki. “It’s my damn house, so who’s gonna stop me?” She gave Riél a second to respond, and Chay prayed he’d make the mistake and open his trap. His verbal and physical ass whipping would cap this night on a high note. His balls must’ve crawled back up into his body because finally, something had shut Riél up.
She shifted her attention to Chay and waved a finger between Bane and Riél. “I don’t know Sophie very well, so what I’m about to say comes from a woman’s perspective. Not everything these two said is wrong. If you love her, then you don’t give up on her. Protecting her and her forgiveness have to be two separate things. I suggest you tell her she’s in danger.”
“Did that. Her solution is to go to Florida. She’s there right now, thinks the distance will keep her safe from our enemies. If it wasn’t for what the Reaper said, I’d almost agree with her.”
“Then you need to get your ass to Florida. My other suggestion…don't stalk her. Talk to her, even if she doesn’t want to hear what you have to say, she is listening. Also, you’ve had her under your care, protecting her from herself, but she doesn’t know you. She knows the guy who took her in, gave her a job. The guy she crushed on from afar. The unattainable UnHallowed she hero-worshipped until she realized you blocked her memories. You gave her a foundation, then you ripped it away. Right now, she doesn’t trust you or herself.”
Damn it, Amaya was right. But it was more than just who’s right. “So, what do I do? I can’t let her go and risk her life. I won’t.”
“Of course not. Let her know you’re there to protect her, not stalk her. Not force her to accept things your way. Give her the space she needs and still keep her safe. And grovel. A lot.” She gave Chay a wry smile. “If she cares for you as much as you care for her, she’ll give you another chance…eventually. Also, gifts are always a good way to start. Bling is a good icebreaker.”
She rose, patted Chay’s shoulder, and headed back inside the house. “And be nice!” She threw over her shoulder. “The nicest you’ve ever been, and triple that shit. Whatever attitude you think you may have, leave it here.” They watched her go, stayed silent until the door slid closed behind her.
Riél huffed, and said in a cautious whisper, “Blah. Blah. Blah. So what, she’s a girl. She doesn’t know everything.”
Chapter Five
“You have arrived at your destination,” the GPS intoned.
Sophie made a left and passed through the wrought iron, intricately scrolled gates of Jacksonville Memorial Gardens. She eased off the gas and let the rental car coast as she enjoyed the gentle hills and carved headstones, the scent of fresh cut grass clogged her sinuses, throwing her into a sneezing fit. The beauty of the place wasn’t lost on her, even though she wasn’t here on a sightseeing tour.
She’d already called ahead before she flew out of Detroit for the location of the plot. Yeah, she lied, said she was a cousin. They were so nice and forthcoming. Southern hospitality at its best.
Sophie parked on the side of the winding road after the second gentle hill. To the right, a funeral was in progress, not far away from where she was headed. Hopefully, she wouldn’t disturb them with what she and her full bladder were about to do.
“Jesus H! Walking on the sun had to be cooler than a stroll down any Florida street in the summertime,” she grumbled, then remembered it was September. The dog days of summer were over, but Florida hadn’t received the memo. Sweat collected between her breasts, morphing her cleavage into a swimming pool the second she exited the car. Talk about fate screwing you.
“Should’ve went to the hotel and checked in, showered, or something.” Noon approached, and she hadn’t eaten since breakfast yesterday. Her stomach growled in protest, even though food was the last thing on her mind. A tick had been on her ass the moment she booked the flight. Everything would wait until she got this graveyard visit over.
She stripped off her jacket and slung it over her shoulder, then snagged her purse off the passenger seat. Her purse went diagonal across her body and her hair went into a messy bun on the top of her head. The breeze on the back of her neck was heaven.
“Row forty-five.” She started counting at the beginning of the section, which brought her in close proximity to the funeral and the mourners, all twenty of them.
She could feel their eyes on her, intrusive, judgmental; a single female obviously not sure of where she was going. Probably forgot where her loved one is buried.
Her phone chimed. She fished it out of her purse and swiped the screen. It was her positive message of the day.
Stay in the moment and all gifts are added as you breathe and take inspired action.
Joe Vitale
All right, sounds like she got approval for her inspired act of vandalism. The phone went back in her purse and she kept counting. She passed the funeral service at row thirty-five and breathed easier as she cut through the rows, her gaze skimming each name, each set of dates, the flowers, the likenesses carved into the stones, the husbands, wives, daughters, and sons.
Sophie skidded to a stop and stumbled, nearly went down to her knees. Oh hell no. She’d never be on her knees again in front of this man. Not even in death. She’d been on her knees enough when he was alive to last a lifetime. When he knocked her there with his fists, or shoved her down and forced her mouth open.
Back straight, knees locked, Sophie stood in front of the granite headstone. The first thing that came to mind was how similar it was to Caleb’s, the lettering, the size…damn, even the wording.
Oscar Reynolds.
May 20, 1980 - August 12, 2016.
Beloved Son and Brother. You will be missed.
Not more than Caleb.
She hacked up a loogie and spat on the headstone. “It’s me, asshole. I’m alive. So, guess what you accomplished, exactly nothing. Nothing! In your entire miserable life! Oh, except for killing your own baby. All that shit you spouted about your seed living forever in future generations and how you were gonna mold your son into the next football star, all of it was a pile of shit. Your ‘seed,’ your one shot at immorality is gone. You’re dead, you piece of shit, and I’m here dancing on your grave.”
She did a shimmy, an impromptu tap dance, and ended her routine by rubbing her ass on the headstone. “One other thing I flew all the way down here to say, I don’t miss you. I haven’t thought about you for two years.” Thank you, Chay. “After today, I will never think about you again, but I am going to leave a piece of me behind. Yeah, I have a gift for you, a special present, and I hope it seeps all the way through the dirt to rain in your coffin, right on your fucking face.”
She opened her pants, shoved them and her panties down to her knees, and took a squat. The pee came out in a torrent, Niagara Falls, all over Ozzy’s grave. Fuck you, Ozzy. It wasn’t enough. She wished she had a dick so she could spray the urine directly on his headstone. This little act of retribution would have to suffice.
“Hey? Hey! What the hell are you doing!”
Oh, shit! One of the mourners from the funeral spotted her. She yanked up her pants and somehow managed to close them while making like an Olympic sprinter. She reached her rental, threw herself into the seat, and had cranked the ignition when a body slammed into her door. Her eyes locked with Eddie, Ozzy’s brother.
When did he get out of jail? The random thought took root as he kicked her car door. Her foot hit the gas and the car shot forward. In the side mirror, she caught Eddie spinning around and landing on his ass, and she burst into laughter. She’d done it! Her purpose was to fly to Jacksonville and piss on Ozzy’s grave, and she did it. All on her own, and fuck it all, it felt good.
Chapter Six
Sophie eased off the gas and let the rental coast to a stop in front of a nice triple wide trailer. Her mother hadn’t broken habit, though
the triple-wide was a definite upgrade from the single, rusted trailer Sophie grew up in until they moved to Detroit.
A really nice triple wide.
“Nice neighborhood too,” she mumbled, taking in the quiet street and tidy lawns lined with pastel perennials and perfect hedges. Ellen had come up in the world. New husband. New house. New life.
Two years and everything had changed. Growing up in this neighborhood wouldn’t have been so bad.
You are too old to be bitter, she had to remind herself and climbed out of the car—and immediately started sweating again.
Has it always been this hot? So much for checking into her hotel to shower and change into a pair of shorts, sandals, and a tee shirt. She shouldn’t complain. After the mad dash from the cemetery, she needed a shower and a change of clothes.
One more pit stop and she could… Do what? Go back to Detroit, or keep driving? Choices. Choices. Money wasn’t an immediate concern. She had enough cash in her nest to wipe the slate clean and start over. The thought should make her happy. It didn’t. She had too much left unfinished in Detroit. Leaving without addressing it felt like running, which was actually what she did.
She sighed. Hindsight was a bitch but she didn’t regret how she left. Chay and Scarla deserved it. A cloud rolled across the sky, casting long shadows on the domestic perfection of her mother’s home. A chill went down her spine, cooling her blood and raising a rash of goosebumps on her bare arms. Her gaze skimmed over every shadow in her vicinity, searching for a pair of pewter eyes and a thick fall of chocolate colored hair. She found nothing, but that never stopped her from searching.
“Leave me alone,” she murmured, equally certain and uncertain about a certain presence lurking close by. Could be her imagination, though the heat in her loins had nothing to do with the temperature or the sun roasting her skin.
Four steps and she was on the porch, her finger poised over the doorbell. Her heart rate ticked up. The beat echoed in her ears. “I can do this.” Her finger quivered, making like a windshield wiper. Her phone chimed.
Grateful for the reprieve, she fished her phone out of her purse. Her inspirational quote. She could swear she had deactivated the notifications.
Difficult roads often lead to beautiful destinations.
By Anonymous.
Yeah. Whatever.
The sounds of Alex Trebek and the theme song from Jeopardy came from a TV inside. “Ellen and her game shows.” Her finger trembled. A five-hour flight, a trip to Ozzy’s grave, add a run in with Eddie, and suddenly facing her mother made her sick. Getting back in the car was an option, but she wasn’t a coward, even if she didn’t know what to say. What part of the truth should she tell? After all, telling her mother the truth was part of the reason she’d made the journey.
“I killed Caleb in a drunken bar fight. Not Ozzy,” she whispered to the closed door. “Was an accident, but yeah, it was me.” Tears blurred her eyes and ran down her cheeks. She used the backs of her hands to wipe them all away and pressed the bell.
It only took a sec for her mother to say, “Coming.” The curtain on the side window shifted. Her mother’s head popped into view. “Ahh!” she shrieked. “Oh my God!”
The door was unlocked, yanked open, and Sophie was locked in a bony embrace. Damn, her mother never weighed more than a buck twenty in her entire life. By the bag of bones in her arms, Sophie guessed she weighed less than one hundred pounds. “Jesus, Ellen! You need a meal.” She pushed her away and almost gasped at the skeletal mess. Hollow cheeks gave way to sharp cheekbones and a saggy chin. “When was the last time you ate?” Her short haircut was also new for Sophie, something Ellen had sworn she’d never do. Wait… Sophie took a closer look. Is that a wig?
“You haven’t been here ten seconds and already scolding me,” Ellen squealed and danced around Sophie. She pinched her arm and slapped Sophie’s ass, then hugged her again.
This wasn’t the greeting Sophie expected. Ellen had never been the warm and fuzzy type. All the hugging and loving was, well…weird.
She studied the long-sleeved tee and leggings, wondering at Ellen’s attire in the Florida heat, although understood when a cool blast of air reached out from the house and enveloped her. It couldn’t help that her collarbones were little more than skin on bones on top of a rack of ribs.
“You should’ve called, told me you were coming for a visit. I would’ve picked you up at the airport, or did you drive?” Her mother peered at the Chevy parked on the curb.
“That’s a rental, and I flew.”
Her mother ushered her into the living room. The house was immaculate, done in soft coral and green, with bamboo inspired furniture. Definitely the Key West theme her mom always wanted. She shoved her onto a sofa and plopped next to her. “Are you traveling through or staying a spell? Please say you’re staying a while and not heading to Disney World.”
A trip to see Mickey Mouse did sound great. Then she remembered MM drew children like shit drew flies. “A quick visit. It’s been a while.”
“Since Caleb’s funeral. That’s how long it's been.” Ellen’s chipper demeanor vanished and she squeezed Sophie’s knee. “I know that’s why you stayed away. It’s okay. You’re home now.” She hugged Sophie again and held on until Sophie hugged her back.
God. Ellen was so thin. Each rib was a speed bump beneath Sophie’s hand. Ellen had gone on some crazy diets, but this was a bit extreme. A hacking cough racked Ellen’s slight frame. Sophie couldn’t stop her hands from roaming over every dip, counting her way down to Ellen’s hips.
Ellen pushed away from Sophie. It was then Sophie noticed the slim oxygen canister tucked between the cushion and the arm of the sofa. Ellen picked up some clear tubing from the end table. She hooked the tube behind her ears and slipped the two prong openings into her nostrils.
“Are you all right?” Sophie managed after a stunned silence.
“Yeah.” Ellen coughed, cleared her throat, and fluffed the pillow behind her. “Just a touch of COPD.” She gave a casual wave as if it was no big deal.
COPD? Sophie had zero medical knowledge. “What the hell is that?”
“Chronic obstructive pulmonary disease. Too many years smoking. My doctors are managing it. Nothing to worry about. Actually, it has been better since Bobby quit smoking. I gave it up eighteen months ago. Bobby stopped about nine months ago.”
Sophie listened to the quiet hum of the machine while studying the labored rise and fall of her mother’s chest. A two-pack-a-day smoker for thirty-five years. “You went cold turkey?”
“Yeah. It was hard, but I did it.” She shrugged as if it were no biggie when Sophie knew it couldn’t have been a walk in the park, plus her mother was a bragger. This no big deal thing wasn’t her style.
“Are you hungry? We can go out or order in.” Sophie didn’t miss the deflection. “Whatever you like. You know, I’m not one for cooking, only when Bobby is here.”
She wasn’t one for cooking when she had kids either. “Let’s order in. I’m a bit tired. It’s cool to stay in, catch up, have dinner, then I’ll head to my hotel.”
Ellen jumped up and headed toward the kitchen. “Hotel? No! You’re staying here. Not a hotel.”
“Yes. I am.” She did not want to stay under the same roof with her mother. This bonding moment could only stretch so far, especially after her confession. Ellen’s shoulders slumped in defeat, which Sophie ignored. “So, where is the new hubby?”
“On the road. Bobby’s a truck driver. He’s on a five-day run to the west coast. He’ll be home on Saturday. He calls me every night. I’ll let him know you’re here,” she shouted from the kitchen. “Hey, are you thirsty? I have beer, some cheap white wine, and whiskey. Bobby likes his whiskey. He won’t mind if we have some.”
Sophie spotted a picture on the end table. She snagged it for a closer study. “I’ll have a beer.” Ellen liked them chubby and her tastes hadn’t changed. Husband number four was well padded, at least twelve months pregnant. A gray a
nd black beard covered half his face, probably to make up for his balding head. He seemed jovial, standing with an arm around Ellen’s shoulders. Ellen was about forty pounds heavier with a glow that was now gone from her now sallow skin.
Ellen returned with the beer and planted herself next to Sophie again. “You look so good, baby.” She touched Sophie’s cheek. “But tired. Is everything okay?”
Sophie nodded, an automatic response. “Yeah. Of course.” What else could she say? A fallen angel wiped my mind clean. Oh, and last week I helped defeat a Demon Army. Oh, and…I killed Caleb.
Ellen kept staring at her, then her gaze turned shrewd, and a bit of the woman Sophie grew up with returned. “Is it a man? You got man trouble written all over you.”
Sophie couldn’t find an answer to that unexpected question.
“Do you love him?”
No didn’t automatically form on her lips, which meant she could’ve loved him. Deeply, desperately. “No,” she forced out. “I don’t love him. Shit, I don’t even know him,” she croaked. Though she’d wanted to, imagined how it would be, feel, to be loved by Chay.
Ellen surprised her again and wrapped her arm around Sophie’s shoulders. “And you never will. We are all a mystery to each other. That’s what keeps it interesting.” She rocked Sophie from side to side.
“It’s all right if you do love him. I’ve loved each and every one of the men I let into my life.” She paused, deep in thought. “Maybe a little too much.” The irony tainting her voice was directed at herself, not Sophie. “My advice, though you didn’t ask, don’t give him all of your heart. Most men won’t notice the difference. They’re too interested in what’s between your legs, not what’s between your ears or in your heart.”
In all Sophie’s years, Ellen’s emotions had never been deeper than a teaspoon. Now, she was prophetic. And wow, she agreed with her mother, especially when it came to Ozzy. He was a taker. He took everything she had and left her with nothing in return. Chay wasn’t like that. He noticed everything, except what was between her legs. Two years she hungered for him and he’d never been anything except courteous, thank God.
Only One I'll Have (UnHallowed Series Book 4) Page 4