Southern Heat

by Natasha Madison

"I know,” he says. “Trust me, I know, and I am going to be real with you right now. I don’t even think we heard the worst of it."

  I swallow down the bile coming up my throat. “It’s a good thing that son of a bitch is dead," I say, my hands going to fists at my sides. “It’s a good thing they’re both dead because …"

  "I know,” he says, slapping my shoulder with his hand and squeezing it. The love from him is apparent, love she never felt. “Now we need to get in there and listen to the rest of the story."

  I nod and take a deep breath before turning around and walking back into the room. My eyes go to hers as she avoids looking at me. “Okay, if it’s alright," Jacob says, “I’m going to just ask you some timeline questions. Just so we can clear up some things and make sure you weren’t involved."

  "You’re kidding, right?" Mayson says with his hands on his hips.

  "Isn’t it enough?" I say, my voice not coming out as soft as I wanted it to. “Didn’t you get everything you were looking for?"

  "It’s fine,” Willow says. “But I have a question." I look at her and see she is afraid to ask it. “There was a black backpack."

  "I have it," Mayson says. I can see her eyes fill with tears, but she blinks them away as fast as they come.

  "Would I be able to get it back?" she asks and holds her breath.

  "I’ll bring it to you tonight,” he says. She looks down, and I see a tear fall on her hand.

  "You said that your mother met Benjamin," Jacob starts, and she nods.

  "They met at a bar, I think, or a party. I have no idea,” she says. “He came home one day and never left. They would get high together, drink together. I tried to stay out of sight. They let me go to school for a bit, but then, well, a teacher noticed the bruises and started to ask questions. They yanked me out and homeschooled me. I managed to do online classes and graduated at sixteen." I smile at her. Even with everything stacked against her, she managed to do all of that.

  "Do you know when he changed his name?" he asks, and she nods.

  "Oh, yeah,” she says. “He had a roaring good time. Then the high left, and I couldn’t find his new credit card, so he broke four of my fingers." She holds up her right hand. “I had to use popsicle sticks and tape to get them back to normal. Listen, I know you are trying to piece stuff together, and if you haven’t figured it out, it wasn’t good. Nothing in the last eight years was good." She sounds tired, tired and frustrated, and at the edge of a breakdown, but she refuses to let anyone see it.

  “He would use my mother against me. If I didn’t do what he wanted, he would hurt her. At first, I protected her." She looks down. “Then …" She laughs as tears stream down her face. “Then she would sell me out. Tell him things I loved so he would keep them from me. Like water. Like a bed. Like food. Like a shower. They would dangle a simple shower in front of me until I gave in and gave them whatever it was that they wanted." She holds her head high. "Things were calm for two months. The credit cards would then be maxed out, and he would have no money until another one would come in. And then the rent was due, so we would have to be ready to move in the middle of the night."

  "Your mother passed away," Jacob says, and I look at her.

  "Rosalie is not my mother," she corrects him. “A mother doesn’t treat a child like that." I don’t know if I can stand much longer. I look over at my father, who can feel that my strings are about to snap.

  "When Rosalie passed away, where were you?" he asks, and I see her look down and then up again.

  "I was unconscious in the corner of a motel room," she answers him. “They were going at it, I don’t even know why anymore, and I told them that someone was going to call the cops." She shakes her head. “I knew it wasn’t true. It was a run-down motel that rented rooms by the half hour. He backhanded me a couple of times, and then when I came to, he was sitting on the bed looking down at Rosalie. She was lying there with her eyes open, looking back at him." She puts her hand to her stomach, and her face goes as white as a ghost as she relives it. "He put her in the car and drove her to the hospital and dumped her there." She closes her eyes and moves her hand to put it on her head.

  “This is over,” I say, my voice coming out tight. The guys look over at me. “This is enough for one day.” I look over at her and see that her head is down. I want to walk over to her, put my arm around her, and tell her she is so brave as I kiss her tears away from her cheeks.

  "We’ve got enough." Mayson steps up. “We don’t need anything else." He looks at me, and we share a silent look, then he turns back and looks at Willow. “I’ll bring your bag."

  She nods at him as he walks out of the room. Beau, who hasn’t said a word this whole time, looks at me and then turns to Willow. “Thank you,” he says, his voice soft, “for your courage."

  She sniffles, looking down at her hand that is shaking. I step forward and hold it in my hand. It feels like ice. She side-looks at our hands together. “I have to say," Jacob says. “It’s an ongoing investigation, so I have to tell you this next part." I look at him, and he looks at me and then at Willow. “You can’t leave town."

  She looks at him. “Where the hell am I going to go?"

  "She’s staying with me,” I say out loud, and all eyes come to me. “When she is discharged, she’ll be staying with me." I look at Willow, who just stares at me with her mouth open.

  "Perfect," Jacob says. “If you remember anything else, let me know."

  He looks at me and then walks out of the room. "Willow," my father says. “I’m sorry that you had to relive all of that."

  "I know that you guys needed answers,” she says. “You guys have to know that if I could have gotten you help, I would have."

  "We know,” he says, smiling at her. Walking out of the room, he grabs a brown bag. “Now, I don’t know if you can eat yet or not, but …" He puts it on the tray. “But my mother found out you like blueberry pie," he says and then takes the pie wrapped in hand towels out of the bag. “It was baked fresh this morning." He places it on the table and then unties the top of it.

  "What do we have here?" Shirley says from the doorway, looking at us. “Is that blueberry?”

  "It is,” Willow says, looking at the pie. “She made it for me?" she asks, confused, and my father nods his head. "She doesn’t even know me." Her voice is almost a whisper.

  My father laughs. “She knows that you got hurt trying to save Chelsea. That’s all she needs to know."

  "Do you want a piece now?" I look at Willow and can see in her eyes that she wants a piece, but she is too afraid to say anything.

  "I want one,” Shirley says, and my father takes out paper plates and a knife from the bag.

  "If it’s okay with you, Willow"—my father looks at her—“I’d like to bring Quinn’s mother by for a visit."

  "Dad,” I say, thinking it’s going to be too much for her.

  "She was here five days ago," Shirley says, and Willow looks over at her in shock. “We were all worried about you. You can have three bites,” Shirley tells her. “And then maybe some more later.”

  My father hands her a piece that is so heavy she won’t be able to hold it with her hand. “Water,” she says, looking at Shirley. “Can I have some water?”

  “Where is your cup?” Shirley asks. She looks at me and then the floor, seeing it all smashed. “I’ll get another one."

  "I have to get going," my father says and then waits for Willow to look at him. “Thank you, Willow, for today."

  "You’re welcome," she says and looks down at her hand. My father looks at me one last time, and I know he will be calling me later.

  “Are you okay?" I ask her softly when it’s just us in the room. "Willow," I call her name, and she looks up at me, and I see the tears filling her eyes. "I’m so sorry that you had to do that,” I say, and her lower lip trembles.

  “You don’t hate me?” she asks, her voice as soft as a whisper. “After all that, you still think I’m a good person?”

  "What are you t
alking about?" I ask, shocked at the words coming out of her mouth. “Did we not just hear the same story?"

  "But …" she starts. I hold up my hand, and she shakes her head. “But I enabled them."

  "Enabled them," I repeat the word. “Is that what you did?" She looks at me. “I see someone who did what they did in order to survive. You, Willow Davis," I say her full name, her eyes on mine. “You are the epitome of a survivor."

  Chapter 14

  Willow

  "Enabled them," he repeats the words I just said. “Is that what you did?" I look at him as my heartbeats fill my ears. “I see someone who did what they did in order to survive. You, Willow Davis,” he says my full name, and my stomach dips. "You are the epitome of a survivor."

  The lump in my throat forms, and I want to say something, but I fear that if I open my mouth, nothing but a sob will rip through me. "My head hurts," I whisper, and he nods his head, walking out of the room to give me a chance to get myself together. My lower lip trembles, and then the sob I’ve been holding back escapes me. I put my hand over my mouth to cover it, but it’s not fast enough because Quinn turns and runs right back in.

  “Are you hurt?" he says, his voice filled with worry. “Shirley!” he yells for her as I shake my head back and forth.

  "I’m …" I start to say. He comes to the side of my bed, and he sits in the chair beside me. His face is filled with fear. “I’m …"

  “Just breathe,” he says softly, taking my hand in his. His thumb rubs over the back of my hand. “Just breathe.” I close my eyes, trying to count to ten and get my heart to calm down. “You’re okay.” It’s not my counting that gets my heart to go down. No, it’s his voice. It’s his voice, and his touch, and it scares the shit out of me.

  I lick my lips and open my eyes, looking at him as he sits there in the chair with his shoulders slumped forward and his head hanging down. “How are you still here?" I ask him, and he looks up at me with his own tears in his eyes. “After hearing all of that, how are you still sitting here. Why?"

  “How can you ask that?” He looks at me, his hand coming up to wipe the tear that has just escaped from my eyes. My heart speeds up for a whole different reason. “How do you not know that I’m not leaving your side?” His words hit me in the stomach as I think about the fact no one has ever said that to me in my life. I’ve been told many things. I’ve been made empty promises. But I’ve never ever had someone say something like that and feel it in my bones that he meant every single word he just said.

  "What’s going on?" Shirley walks into the room.

  "Her head hurts,” Quinn says for me.

  "It’s a low throb,” I say, and she looks at me with her own tears in her eyes.

  "You’ve had a long day,” she says. “I’ll get you something for the pain."

  "No," I say, my voice coming out stronger than I want it to. “It’s tolerable."

  She tilts her head to the side. “Fine, but if it gets worse, you tell me."

  "I will," I agree and close my eyes, not looking back over at Quinn.

  I just told them a fraction of what I went through, baring my soul to each of them. I stared at each one of them, waiting to see how their eyes would shift, and they would look at me. But as each word poured out of me, and I showed them the hell that was my life, nothing in their eyes changed.

  I hear voices, but the darkness sucks me in.

  "She’s staying with me." Quinn’s voice plays in my head over and over again. "When she is discharged, she’ll be staying with me." I turn around to find him, but all I see is the darkness.

  "He didn’t mean it." My mother’s voice breaks into my head. "He wouldn’t bring you home, not after he finds out what you did."

  I run away from her voice, but then his voice comes in. “No one is ever going to want you."

  I run in the dark forest until I see the light shining in. "You are everything." I hear Quinn, but the sound of Rosalie and Benjamin’s wicked laughter overtakes his voice.

  My eyes fly open, looking around the room, I see him standing at the window. His arm rests on his head as he looks out at the sunset. I wonder if he regrets what he said or if he’s replaying everything I said. I watch him for a second longer until there is a knock on the door, and my head turns toward it at the same time as Quinn.

  "Hey," Mayson says, stepping into the room. My eyes go from his to the black bag in his hand. My black backpack that I’ve had since I was seven years old. I don’t have a chance to look at it too long before my eyes fly to the blonde walking in behind him.

  Her eyes find mine, as her face fills with a huge smile at the same time as tears start to run down her face. “Is this a good time?” she says, not looking at anything but me.

  “Um,” I start to say and look down at my hand. “Sure.”

  “Hey,” Quinn says, going to her and hugging her. “Are you supposed to be walking?"

  "That’s what I said," Mayson pipes in. “She refused to sit in the wheelchair I found at the front door.”

  "Would you two knock it off." She pushes Quinn away from her and then comes to me. “Hi,” she says. “I’m Chelsea."

  I’m expecting her to stand by my side, but she comes closer and leans in and hugs me as gently as she can. I hear her sniffle. “Thank you," she whispers. I don’t have a chance to say anything because she lets go of me. Her eyes lock on to mine, and I see the love in them. She looks at me like I did something for her, when, in fact, I was the one who helped the person who hurt her. "I’m sorry,” I say softly in a whisper. “I tried to get help."

  "I know,” she says softly and moves away from me and smiles again. "Are you okay?"

  "Yes," I say to her and then look back when Mayson comes to my other side.

  "I brought your bag,” Mayson says, and my eyes light up. "This fell out of it,” he says and holds out the locket that I kept in a secret compartment.

  "It,” I say, grabbing it in my hand. “It was my grandmother’s." My voice trembles as I look down at the locket I got when I was seven. "She wore it every single day. The day of her accident." I close it in my fist. “She forgot to put it on." I wipe away the tear running down my face. “Thank you,” I say, and he nods at me and puts the bag down on the bed.

  "I need some help," Mayson says, looking at Quinn. “Can you come and help me?"

  He looks at him and then looks at Chelsea. They share a look, and he nods. "I’ll be right back." Quinn looks at me, and I nod at him.

  My finger taps the bed beside me. “Willow," Chelsea says. “I don’t know what happened to you."

  "I told Mayson," I start to say, and she shakes her head.

  “The only thing I know is that you got hurt because of me,” she says and puts her hand in front of her mouth. She laughs and cries at the same time. “I said I was going to be strong for you.” I look at her. “We are in debt to you.”

  “You don’t have to,” I say, not sure I can take what she has to say.

  “You have to let us be there for you,” she says. “Just give us a chance.”

  “What is in this?” Quinn says, saving me from having to say anything to her. I look over at him and see him carrying a big green bag.

  “Well, that,” Chelsea says. “Quinn’s mom and I thought you might need a couple of things for when you get out of here."

  I sit up as I look at the big green army bag. “We had to borrow Ethan’s bag."

  "I can’t take that." I look at the bag that looks like it weighs a hundred pounds.

  Chelsea puts her head back and laughs. “There are three more bags at Quinn’s house."

  I sit with my mouth open as I look at her and then back at Quinn. “My family can be a touch …"

  "They are the best," Mayson says, looking at me. “It can be overwhelming in the beginning, but if you just let the love in, it’s going to be everything."

  I can’t say anything to either of them. “We should get going so you can get some rest," Chelsea says. “But if it’s okay." She looks dow
n nervously. “I can come back some time with my cousin Amelia."

  "Um …" I look at Quinn, who just smiles. “I guess so."

  Chelsea claps her hands together. “She’s going to be so happy,” she says, and my head just turns around and around.

  Chelsea walks up to Quinn and gives him a hug, and Mayson shakes his hand. I watch them walk out of the room, holding hands, and then turn to look at him. “You have to take that bag." I point at the green bag. “And you have to tell them to take it back."

  He puts his head back and laughs. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him laugh so freely. "No chance."

  "You have to." I shake my head.

  "With the women in my family, you have to learn when to pick your battles." He looks at me, walking over to the pie and cutting a piece. “And this is a battle that one, I know I’m going to lose, and two"—he shrugs his shoulders—“I don’t want to." He walks over to me, and I see his eyes crystal tonight as he smiles and hands me the plate. “Hopefully, you will be able to eat a bit more by tomorrow."

  I look down at the pie in my hand. “Where is Shirley?" I ask him, and he looks back at me as he walks over to grab another piece of pie for himself.

  "She clocked out two hours ago. Doris is here.” He turns to look at me from head to toe. “Do you need anything? Are you in pain? Is it your head?"

  "No, I’m fine. I was just wondering if I could have some juice,” I say, then I look down. “It’s fine. I’m good with water."

  "I’ll be right back," he says, walking out of the room, and I want to kick myself for even asking. I take a bite of the pie, and as soon as it hits my tongue, I close my eyes.

  "This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted in my whole life,” I say to myself, taking another bite, and then I look up when I hear footsteps coming closer and closer to my door.

  Quinn walks into the room, and his hands are full. He walks over and dumps the juice on the bed. He picks them up and shows them to me. “Apple, orange, pineapple, grape, cranberry, strawberry kiwi.” He holds that one up. “I don’t think this is real juice, but who knows.”