by Amanda Heath
“Don’t you ever get sick of all the southern hospitality around here?” I say to Pops as he follows me into the house.
“I figure they don’t mean any harm, girl. Ally and Dalton are a lot better peoples then them assholes you hung around in high school.” He walks around the couch sitting in the middle of the living room and takes a seat.
I just roll my eyes. “I’m going to bed,” I tell him. I drop my bags on the floor and head to the front door. I open it and whistle. About three minutes later, “Demon Dog” Charlie rounds the porch and pants while he climbs the three steps.
Pops got me Charlie when I was twenty. I was living here with him at the time. He’s a mutt. That doesn’t mean you can’t see the Australian Shepard in him. That dog loves chasing cows too. He made a perfect pet for Pops, even though he said he was for me.
He gets the nickname Demon Dog because he’s an asshole. I can’t count the times this dog has brought me a dead kitten, chicken, fox or possum. Though the kittens had frozen to death, so I’m not sure if he wanted me to save them or bury them. He likes cats, which is strange. Gran had a fat cat named Buddy who passed away last year. Charlie and Buddy were the best of buds.
Charlie follows me as I pick up my bags and head up the stairs. We go into my room, which doesn’t look any different than last time I lived here. Pale blue walls with pictures of Sarah and me. There are a few of Max and Tate and a lot of Gran. Plus, Pops pops into a few himself, but he doesn’t like his picture taken.
“Max wants you to come back to his house,” Pops says behind me and I about jump out of my skin. I didn’t hear him follow me.
I place my bags on my bed, queen sized with black sheets and comforter, and face him. “I can’t be there.”
“I know little bird. I know.” I sit on the bed and face him. “Tate’s real worried too. I know you don’t want to hear that. Them boys been worried about you since the day you met them. Strangest damn thing I ever saw.”
That makes me lift up a brow. “I doubt that, old man.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “You’d be right. Though that is up there.”
I shake my head. “You think I can go to sleep now?” I ask as I pat the bed for Charlie to jump on. I smooth a hand down his head and over his back.
Pops nods his head. “I love you, little bird. You ain’t gotta worry about anything, not with me alive.”
He smiles as tears start to flow down my face. He backs out of the room and shuts the door. I get up and take off my jeans and shoes. Then I cross the room to turn off the light. I jump on the bed headfirst and land on my pillow. Then I kick my bags to the floor and pass out.
***
That night I am woken up when my bedroom door opens, spilling light from the hall onto my face. Charlie gets up and runs out of the room. I sit up with a start, my eyes falling on a figure standing in the doorway. At first I can’t tell who it is but when the familiar lines of his short hair become clear in the shadows I’m up off the bed and headed straight for him.
“Farah,” he mutters, taking a step back. At least he didn’t refer to me as doll face again. He would be dead right now instead of cowering back because he knows I’m about to hurt him.
I stop a bit in front of him and sling my arm down on his forearm breaking his grip on my door. Then I move between his legs and punch him in the stomach, knocking him back into the wall outside. Then I turn around and attempt to slam my door shut so I can lock it this time.
Tate is faster than me and puts his full weight on the door, bursting it open and knocking me onto the bed. I land face down and the door is slammed shut before I can even lift my head and his warm body is full on mine before I can turn over.
“Get the fuck off me!” I scream, thrashing around. I feel his cock twitching against my ass and I narrow my eyes. “You get turned on all you want, asshole. You make one move towards me sexually and I’ll rip your fucking balls off.”
He ignores me, which isn’t something new. If you must know, we’ve been in this situation a few times. I hate this hold he has over my body and my temper. Every time he pisses me off I go insane. Lots of other people piss me off on a daily basis and I handle that normally. This dick pisses me off and all I can think about doing is hurting something he loves. Take his bike earlier. His arm and stomach minutes ago. And before you think I’m this stupid violent idiot, I only knocked him around to get him out of my room. He won’t even have any bruises. Well, hopefully he won’t have bruises.
I feel his nose brush against the back of my ear, whispering against the sensitive skin. “What’d I tell you would happen the next time you came at me like that? Hmm?” Tingles flow down my skin from the top of my head down to my toes.
I can’t even remember what we were fighting about but the last time I forced him out of a room, he promised if I ever did that again, he’d tie me up and torture me with his cock.
Okay those weren’t his exact words but along those lines. “I don’t remember. Probably something about your cock and my vagina.”
He laughs softly, the breath floating along the shell of my ear. “I said I’d tie these beautiful hands to the bed and then I’d fuck you every way I can without letting you come…for hours.” His tongue whips out and licks my ear.
I swallow hard, pushing my sudden arousal away. Just because he says some serious hot and kinky shit, doesn’t mean you have to fuck him, Farah. Jesus. I shake my head and start raising my thighs. “You wish, fucking asshole.” My knees come up next and I flip him over. I straddle his thighs and hold his wrists over his head. “How about I tie you up and ride you.” I swirl my hips against the erection tenting his slacks. “Ride you all night long.” I bend over and bring my face close to his, watching the way his green eyes flare with heat and his mouth tightens. “Without letting you come? Would you like that Tatum?”
Instead of answering, he raises his face closer to mine and kisses me. It’s not soft, his kiss. I can count on four fingers how many times Tate has kissed me softly. My hands instantly let go of his wrists and bring them down to his short hair. The kiss might be hard, but he doesn’t use his tongue. I know him, better than he knows himself. He’d never have sex with me, not right after Sarah died. Hell, he could have stopped me from kicking him out earlier, the first time I did it, I took him by surprise because I’d never gotten that aggressive with him.
He rolls me over, his lips leaving mine while his hands plant themselves next to my head on either side. “Just stop, Farah. Just stop.”
I close my eyes and drop my hands. I can feel his eyes looking at me, feeling me out for any cracks. He’ll be looking for a way in, even if he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. “Get off me. Just…leave.”
“No,” he growls and I feel his hands touch my face. “You’re hurting. You can’t even begin to understand how that makes me feel.” His nose swipes down my face, leaving a trail of wetness from the tears my eyes can’t keep in. “I’m so fucking sorry I wasn’t here. I’m so sorry I left, baby.”
I choke on the word, the endearment I haven’t heard since long before he left. I wrap my arms around his neck and push my face into his chest. No way do I forgive him. No way will I accept his apologies. But I will accept comfort from his arms because they are the last place I felt safe, other than Sarah’s.
I fall asleep on his chest after his rolls onto his back, taking me with him.
***
When I wake up he’s already awake and running his fingers through the ends of my hair. “Why did you come here last night?” I ask groggily.
He stops playing with my hair once I speak. “I kept seeing your face when you came down those stairs yesterday. I knew it would gut me, seeing you again. But I didn’t expect that. I thought someone had ripped out my heart when I wasn’t looking.”
I sit up, shrugging his arms away. “You should leave,” I tell him, no emotion whatsoever in my voice. I want him to leave. God, do I want him to leave.
I don’t wait for an answer. I get
off the bed and head for the door. “Farah,” he states. I freeze and let out a deep breath. Then I turn to face him. Seeing him in the daylight is worse. God he’s so fucking handsome. “Why don’t you just lay back down? Let’s talk about things.”
I shake my head. “No. I’m done talking to you.” And I mean that. I didn’t even know I needed him last night until I was in his arms. I’m done with that though. I’m done being weak where he’s concerned. I went through enough the first time he left. I’d die if I got attached again and he left. I’m lonely enough without the ghost of him too.
That’s one of the reasons I wish he would go. Sarah has been standing in the corner of my room since I opened my eyes. I don’t trust myself around other people right now. I’ll probably keep looking at her and someone will want to know what I’m looking at. Hell, I’ll probably end up talking to her at some point. Really don’t need anyone around for that.
“Farah.” I’m getting real tired of him saying my name like that. Like I’m just supposed to do what he wants and pretend everything is okay. Well it’s not fucking okay, alright? “I don’t think you should be alone right now. I know Pops is here, but I don’t trust you to go hang out with him.”
I raise both brows at that. Then I feel my anger taking over, replacing the sadness which has been weighing me down for what feels like forever. “You don’t trust me? Really?” I move closer to the bed my fists shaking by my sides. “You don’t have any right to think about trust when it comes to me. You don’t have the fucking right to think about me you son of a bitch.” I spit it out, my face contorting with my rage.
He lifts a hand to his jaw, smoothing it over the stubble there. “I know you got a right to be mad-”
I huff out a laugh, interrupting him. “I have every fucking right to be pissed, Tatum. You think you can just come back into my life like nothing fucking happened. And that’s just not what’s going to happen. You can go get fucked.” I spin on my heel and finally leave the room. I’m spitting mad but that doesn’t mean I have to actually get more riled up, riling him up.
Instead of going to the bathroom upstairs, I head to the one downstairs. I stop at the bottom when I see a familiar face looking back at me. “How long have you been here Max?” I ask because he looks like he didn’t get to sleep last night. I wonder if he came with Tate last night and just never moved from the couch.
He certainly looks it. His hair is all over the place and his brown eyes are bloodshot and red rimmed. His clothes have wrinkles and there’s more stubble on his face than Tate’s.
“Since last night,” he tells me, never moving anything but his lips. “He said he was going up there to get you, but y’all never came back down.”
I frown at him. “Well, he knows better. He couldn’t just expect me to jump up and down that he came all the way here because my sister died.”
I spin on my heel and head to the bathroom. I do my business and hate that, yet again, I’m walking around in one of Tate’s old shirts and boy shorts. I think I need to start sleeping in my everyday clothes.
When I come back out they are both sitting in the living room, glaring at each other. I roll my eyes and walk past them to the front door. I walk outside, enjoying the sun on my skin. I head to my car and climb inside. Max just lost his wife, he shouldn’t be out running around after me. Though he probably wouldn’t have slept last night regardless of where he was.
He and I are opposites in that. When I’m in pain or feeling something strongly, all I want to do is sleep. In my dreams Sarah is still alive and it’s easier there than it is out here.
I shut the door and lock them all. Then I climb in the back and lay down. I curl up on my side and close my eyes.
It’s ten minutes later when Max shows up and knocks on the window. I open my eyes and look up at him. He looks so lost and upset I feel my heartstrings pull for him. Something I never thought would ever happen. “You gonna be okay?”
“Are you?” I ask back.
“Fuck no.”
“Then there you have it.”
He sighs and rubs a hand down his face. “Will you come back to the house? I got rid of your parents.”
That perks me up. “No.” Even though he kicked them out, I refuse to stay there with Tate and I would never ask him to get rid of his brother like that.
I see the anger come into his eyes and that shocks me. “Just fucking come to the house, Farah. I can’t grieve and worry about you too. It’ll drive me fucking crazy.” He pauses and puts both his hands on my window. “I need you close. Okay?”
I nod and climb into the front seat of my car to unlock the doors and get out.
Four
Farah
Sarah disappeared after I left my room.
She hasn’t been back.
Tate and Max are in a standoff and it’s starting to freak me the fuck out. I’d go right back to Pops but I’m worried they would follow me again. I have enough tension in my body from the past couple of days, add in their tension and I’m about ready to blow up into tiny little pieces gorily decorating Max’s walls.
I’ve been at Max’s for two days. We are finally burying Sarah today. It brings all the pain back, fresh and in the front of my mind. I can hardly think about anything else. I trembled when I had to take her outfit to be buried in to the funeral home yesterday. I picked the one I saw her wearing when she showed up here the first time.
Blake sits on my bed playing with his toy trucks while I put on my makeup. I’m wearing a black pencil skirt with a long sleeve black shirt. I pulled my hair up into a long ponytail, hoping it stays. I go light on the makeup only because I don’t really have the strength to go into detail on my face.
“Farwh, is Momma in heaven?”
I smile softly at his question. He’s been asking this question nonstop since we came back to the house. I want to pull him to me and tell him that I don’t know. I don’t know if heaven is real. I like to think it is, but it’s hard to believe that there is really something out there; somewhere we go when our human lives end. “Yes, baby. Momma is up in heaven with your baby sister.”
He nods, looking at me with his serious little eyes. “Daddy and Momma fight about you and I wasn’t sure if she got to go to heaven if she was mad at Daddy.”
I feel my eyebrows lower in confusion. “No, baby. Your momma was all that was good and kind. God and Jesus opened their arms wide for her. She’d never be turned away.” I drop my eyeliner and move to the bed to sit next to him. “She loved you more than life itself, little man. There’s no place more she deserved to go.” I lean over and kiss his temple.
I don’t ask him about the fighting. I’ve learned with this little rascal if you ignore some things, he won’t pay attention to them anymore. Like when he repeats my cursing, I don’t laugh or think it’s cute. I ignore it. He knows they are bad words; he wants the reaction from the grown ups and if you don’t give him one, he won’t say the words.
Well, I hope that it works. I’m not around the kid twenty-four seven.
I finish putting on my makeup after a few minutes of cuddles. I’ll ask Max about the fighting in a few days. No need to bring up bad times for him and Sarah the day we put her in the ground.
I hold Blake on my hip as I move down the stairs and find Max and Tate in the living room, glowers on their faces. I roll my eyes completely and totally over their shit. I know Tate’s pissed because Max won’t let him talk to me and Max now has it in his head that he needs to protect me. Like I need anybody to protect me.
I’ve been protecting myself since I was a teenager.
Sarah was good as a buffer with words, but physically? I got that shit covered. Not only did I run track, I took boxing classes along with self-defense. I can throw a grown ass man over my shoulder onto his back, knocking his breath out so I can run away. You should try it sometime; it’s fucking amazing and freeing.
“When are we leaving?” I ask, moving into the room and setting Blake down on his feet. He immediately
runs to his father and climbs in his lap. I feel my face soften at the sight.
Tate stands up and straightens his tie. He looks amazing in his white button down and black slacks. Though the black Converse throw me off. Since when does he wear shoes like that? I glare down at them, totally freaked out. “They’re Max’s. I forgot to pack shoes.”
I nod absently. That makes more sense. Knowing Tate, he ran out of the house with a few changes of clothes only wearing a pair of tennis shoes. The only time I’ve seen him wear dress shoes is when he’s going to work.
Max stands up holding Blake closely and heads to the front door without saying anything to either of us.
I ignore Tate and follow Max out to his car. I climb in the front seat while Max puts Blake in his car seat in the back. Tate opens the back door and climbs in behind me. I push my seat all the way back, so he doesn’t have much room to move his legs. Max coughs and I look up to see him trying to hide a laugh and smile. This makes me smirk.
When Max gets into his Eclipse and starts the car he says, “Never a dull moment with you two. I could be completely lost in sadness and still crack a fucking smile with the way you’re both acting.”
I thump him on the back of the head as he turns around to back out. The rest of the drive to the church is quiet, except for Blake in the back talking softly to Tate about his trucks.
Once we pull up to the church Tate unbuckles Blake from the car seat and moves out of the car. I do the same after he’s shut the door. Max meets me on the side and grabs my hand. I don’t question it; I just follow behind him. If he needs me to anchor him I will, even if it makes me uncomfortable.
Tate’s jaw starts clenching when he spots us. I want to ignore him but Max’s shoulders get full of tension at the sight of Tate. They’re in a stare off at my sister’s funeral. “Fuck. I don’t know what the hell is going on between you two, but for the love of all things holy, get over it for everyone else’s sake. Mainly mine. I’m already crazy enough what, with the death of my whole life. Get over yourselves.”