by Vera Hollins
“That’s exactly why his ego is larger than Australia,” I said. “For your information, no one needs a guy who most likely falls asleep hugging a framed picture of himself every night. So, no, I don’t like him.”
He didn’t look convinced. He wiggled his lips as he stared at his lap. “So . . .you really, really don’t like Mace?”
I sighed exasperatedly. He was just going to keep trying, wasn’t he? “Why are you so hung up on this?”
Eli glanced away, another blush making its way across his face. “Because I think you would be great for him. I told you he needs someone he can rely on. He needs someone to make him smile, like really smile, and you’re so funny.”
I frowned, wondering why Masen needed someone to make him smile. “If you haven’t noticed, he doesn’t find my jokes funny. At all. And I don’t even want him to.”
He kept staring at his lap. “I see,” he muttered.
Great. Now I felt bad.
I let out another sigh. I should do better than this. “Okay, forget about what I said. Why does he need someone to make him smile? You mentioned his pain and that he doesn’t ask anyone for help. What’s wrong with him?”
The moment I asked that, I recalled the scars on his back, and something too close to compassion took residence in my chest. It was accompanied by fear. I was afraid, because I’d always seen the world as either good or bad—I didn’t believe in a middle area—and I was so sure I knew it all, but now it felt like I’d been wrong my whole life and didn’t know anything.
Masen didn’t have it easy, and the more I thought about all his facets, the more my preconceived image of him blurred, fading away into something I didn’t know how to deal with—fading away into that middle area.
My own brother had been in that area, I realized now. I also realized I’d never shown him compassion. I was too busy complaining about him and reminding him of all his shortcomings to think that all he’d needed from us was support. Yes, it had been hard living with him, and we’d tried so many times to reason with him and help him, but then again, had we really? Had it been enough? When was enough?
“I can’t tell you that,” Eli said, taking me away from my grim thoughts.
“I get it. It’s because he doesn’t trust me and all that.”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Then can you tell me something else?”
“Okay.” He sounded a little wary.
“Just know that if I’m being extra, extra nosy, you don’t have to answer me.” He nodded, and I asked, “How did you become a quadriplegic?”
He looked like he was contemplating about whether to tell me or not. “Okay, I’ll tell you, but since that has to do with Masen too, please don’t use it to hurt him or say anything to anyone. Please.”
His plea hit me hard, along with the vulnerability showing on his face.
I winced and looked away, feeling like the lowest of the low for ever plotting to use anything Eli told me against Masen. A fresh wave of guilt washed over me because of my rotten intentions, reminding me I’d been so ready to do it up until very recently. I’d been so intent on dragging Masen through the mud, I’d never even thought about the consequences or who else could get hurt in the process.
I met his gaze, trying to convey with my serious expression just how sincere I was. “I promise I won’t.”
He smiled with relief. “Thanks. So, I was ten when it happened. Mace and I were in a car with our mom, sitting in the back seat. She was going through her purse while driving. I remember she was searching for cigarettes.”
Anger burst through my veins. “So, she wasn’t paying enough attention to the road,” I said, already guessing the whole outcome.
He nodded. “That’s when I dropped my phone on the floor, and I took off my seat belt to reach it. She was too distracted to see a car approaching, so she started braking too late.”
I squeezed the rock I held in my hand, mad at their mother. I could already envision it—the moment when you saw everything so clearly and knew your life wouldn’t be the same anymore—but to think that it was all caused by their mother’s negligence . . .
He looked at the sky, his eyes glazed over as he reminisced about that moment. “We collided with that car, and since I wasn’t wearing my seat belt, I hit the roof of the car and fractured my neck at C6.” He gave me a sad smile. “One tiny fracture is enough to fracture your whole life. Weird, right?”
I watched him closely. My blood hummed with anger at the unfairness of it all, especially at such a young age. I didn’t want to pity him—that was the last thing he needed—but I felt sick that he’d had to go through so much pain.
“She caused a chain reaction, so another vehicle hit us from behind and smashed the rear end of our car. Mace was lucky that he got away with only some minor injuries, because if that SUV had caused just a bit more damage . . .” He grimaced.
Something squeezed my heart. “I saw the scars on his back. Did he get them in that accident?”
“Yes. The rear window broke when that SUV hit us, and the glass shards fell over him.”
I clenched my teeth together, calling that image to mind. An actual ache surged through my body as I thought about what he’d gone through. He had dozens of those tiny scars. How many of those glass shards had actually cut him?
“What happened to your mom?”
“Her chest was bruised from the airbag, but other than that, she was fine.”
She was fine. I was clenching my teeth so hard the muscles in my jaw began trembling. It was hard not to be furious that she’d come through it without a scratch while her children hadn’t been so lucky. Were the cigarettes she’d been looking for worth it?
“And what about the others in that accident? Were they seriously injured?”
“The drivers got a few injuries, but it wasn’t anything serious, and they didn’t have any passengers. Basically, I drew the short straw.” He returned my gaze. “So, now you know how it happened.”
I rubbed my forehead tiredly, my heart heavy. “It’s unusual that you want to be a race car driver, seeing as you were in a serious car accident. Aren’t you afraid?”
“A little, yes, but I always liked cars and wanted to race when I grew up, just like Mace. Also, Mace once said that in order to be stronger, you have to face what makes you weaker. So, if I can ever race, I don’t want my fear to stop me from doing it.”
I dropped the rock on the ground; I was annoyed to discover yet another thing that went in Masen’s favor. If this kept going, he would turn out to be a saint.
“Wow. He’s a real Confucius, isn’t he?” I said under my breath.
Eli grinned, and it was a smile full of love and admiration. “Mace is my hero. Did you know he’s already racing?”
I grew still. Eli knew about Masen’s gang activities?
He mistook my silence for admiration. “Yes, he’s racing at the local track, and he supports us with the money he earns. He’s one of the best racers out there, or so he says.” He gave me a sheepish smile.
I observed him carefully. “And you’re okay with him racing . . . there?”
His lips curled into a line of confusion. “Why wouldn’t I be okay with it? It’s not like it’s illegal racing.”
I frowned deeply. So, he didn’t know. If Masen hadn’t told him about the illegal racing, then it was safe to assume that Eli didn’t know Masen was in a gang at all. Did Doug know? Did Doug know his son was bankrolling them with dirty money?
I called a smile to my face before he figured out there was something wrong and his brother wasn’t as clean as a whistle.
“Right. Anyway, there’s your motivation. Work hard and one day you’ll be a successful racer like your big bro.” Just don’t become a criminal like him. Prison is absolutely not a good option when you’re considering your future home.
“You think?”
“Absolutely!”
Later, Eli and I went to his room to watch The Big Bang Theory, one of his favorite s
itcoms. I offered to make us smoothies, so I went to the kitchen and raided their fridge, thinking about the car accident and their mother. I’d forgotten to ask him what had happened with her after the accident, and if the fallout from the accident had caused his parents’ marriage to fall apart, but then again, I doubted he would tell me anything, seeing as he was super secretive when he mentioned his mom the last time.
I was already starting to imagine a variety of bizarre scenarios. In my mind, she’d been a stripper who’d run away with a member of the Russian mafia, only to become a leader of a human trafficking ring and move to Barbados to drink cocktails for the rest of her life. Or maybe she’d gotten abducted by aliens, and now they were cloning her to make an army they would use to invade our precious planet in the near future.
I dropped the apples, oranges, and carrots on the counter and almost snorted, rolling my eyes at myself. I turned to grab the blender that was on the table but came face-to-face with Masen instead; he stood only inches away from me, silently watching me.
I shrieked, drawing back. “Geez!” I pressed my hand against my pounding heart. “Are you pretending you’re a spy now? Sneaking up on people? Contrary to what some romance novels say, that’s not sexy. Step aside.”
I tried to sidestep him so I could reach the table, but he blocked my way. He leaned in and pressed his hands against the counter on either side of me, caging me in. I inhaled a sharp breath, my fear levels rising as my eyes darted between his arms at my sides. Too close.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I asked. He was crossing the goddamn line. “You’re invading my personal space!”
I slammed my hands against his chest and put all my strength into pushing him away, but he was much stronger than me and stayed put, gripping the counter behind me. He even brought his face closer, never breaking our eye contact.
“I see it again,” he said quietly. “Fear. You always react like this when I’m this close to you.”
His heart beat steadily against my palm, reminding me that my hands were still on his chest, and I grew still. I could swear his heart sped up, which turned this contact into something I definitely hadn’t intended it to be. I dropped my hands, unnerved, feeling like not only was he invading my space, but my mind, and also my life . . . and it was becoming uncontrollable. This scared me more than anything, but I wasn’t going to show him just how much he was messing with my head.
I raised my chin high, staring at him defiantly. I was ready to kick him where the sun didn’t shine if he even touched me. “So?” I asked him coldly. “What’s your point?”
He didn’t miss a beat. “So, I want to know who hurt you.”
Motherfucker. My vision filled with the old images, and for a few seconds too long, I saw only him. My heart kicked into fifth gear as the old smells, sounds, and words returned to taunt me.
“How about tonight? Do you want to hang out with me?”
“Of course I do,” I replied.
He stroked my cheek with the back of his hand. “It’s going to be the night of your life, babes.”
I smiled at him. “I’m counting on it.”
I bit into my lip so hard that I drew blood, forcing myself to focus on the now. “Go to hell,” I told Masen.
He narrowed his eyes, focusing on my bloody lip. His expression turned grim. “I’ve been thinking that there was no way someone could be so full of anger and hate if they hadn’t been hurt by someone. You’re showing all the signs. So, who was that? An ex-friend?” He cocked his head to the side, studying me closely. “An ex-boyfriend?” I winced, pressure pounding into my head like nails, and his eyes widened. “Did he hit you? Force himself on you? Or—”
I slapped him, leaving a red handprint on his cheek. “You hideous piece of shit—”
He grabbed me by my chin and got in my face, glaring at me. “Now, listen carefully. This is the last time you get a pass for raising your hand to me.” He dug his fingers into my skin. “Just because you’re a girl, it doesn’t mean you can hit anyone and get away with it. The next time you hit me, I’m hitting back.”
Aggressive bitch. Always treating me like her punching bag.
I pushed Steven’s words away, furious. I clamped my hand around Masen’s wrist, my chest tight with anger, fear, and so much loathing. “And the next time you get in my personal space, I’m going to strike twice as hard.”
We didn’t move an inch, both breathing heavily as we stared each other down. Everything was becoming just too much. I was burning with anger, feeling it everywhere, and it was something I felt only with Masen. It was like he could bring out the worst in me, and nothing mattered but getting all that pent-up anger and frustration out. He had power over me, and I hadn’t even known it.
My eyes widened as this fully sank in, but before I could do or say anything, Blake strolled into the kitchen.
He raised his eyebrows as he took us in. “Kinky. But you should get a room first before you start with the flogging.”
Masen stepped away from me instantly, his face twisting in a confounding mixture of shame and confusion, but I didn’t allow myself to stay here a second longer to study it.
“Save your kinky fantasies for when you’re alone with Jess,” I sneered at Blake and left the kitchen, putting the much-needed distance between me and Masen.
My powerful strokes took me across the pool as I fought against the tension that hadn’t left my body ever since the altercation with Masen yesterday. The memories from the past blended in with the present, reminding me I wasn’t whole and my hatred was the only thing that prevented me from losing my mind. But not even hatred was enough anymore. Not even hatred could help me regain balance.
This had something to do with Masen. Our close encounters were taking a toll on me, and I was starting to have a strange feeling next to him, and I didn’t know why.
I was supposed to be terrified of him. I was supposed to shake with fear. But not only had he been that close to me yesterday, but he’d also touched me, and I hadn’t freaked out. And the longer we’d stayed that close to each other, the less fear I’d felt, as if I had been becoming comfortable with all this anger and tension circulating between us. As if I were becoming more comfortable around him.
It didn’t make sense. He wasn’t someone I could feel safe with, but somehow, deep down, it was like I knew he wouldn’t hurt me the way he had done, and that itself was messed up, because I shouldn’t trust Masen in any way, especially not after what he’d said about hitting me.
I grimaced with guilt. A part of me knew Masen was right. He had the right to hit me back, just like I always fought back when someone attacked me. Yes, he’d been invading my personal space, and I had all the right to defend myself if I felt threatened, but that wasn’t all there was to it. Steven had been telling me I was too aggressive, too addicted to violence, and I’d always responded to him that I would never deliberately hurt anyone—especially not those who hadn’t done anything to me.
But I had to be honest with myself. Masen had never done anything to me that would warrant my heightened aggression around him, yet I’d taken it upon myself to “teach him a lesson” from the start. Why was I so hung up on him, literally looking for trouble just because I couldn’t stand him? He was just some unimportant bully, just like the rest of the school bullies, but you didn’t see me chasing after them and trying to teach them a lesson.
I let my body float in the water and closed my eyes as the shock of a new realization settled in. I was always so righteous, always so full of myself, without ever stopping to see that I . . . I was becoming a bully to deal with a bully.
Why? Why Masen? What was so special about him that created this strong reaction in me? Like today, when he was talking to some girl during break and kissing her against his locker, and I felt so mad because I knew he was going to forget about her by lunch. I’d wanted to shove his face against his locker and teach him to respect girls—to stop being a man whore with no boundaries or indulging so carelessl
y in physical intimacy—even though it had nothing to do with me.
Physical intimacy. I spun around and dived in, trying to remember what it was like to want guys. I tried to remember what it had been like when I wasn’t apprehensive of a male’s touch, but it was hard. It was hard ever seeing me as that normal girl again.
I resurfaced and inhaled air sharply, pierced with encompassing pain. So much pain. I thought I was already over it—over the fact that I’d been so helpless and ultimately broken. I’d promised myself I would never let another guy annihilate my defenses, but Masen . . .
A figure in my periphery caught my attention, and I turned to look. My stomach somersaulted as I spotted Masen standing near the pool with a paper bag in his hand, his expression unreadable as he watched me.
I swam furiously to the edge of the pool. I was going to have to have a word with Mom about not letting assholes into our house. I didn’t even want to think how long he’d been standing there like a stalker.
“What are you doing in my house?”
“I came to bring you this.” He raised the bag in the air.
I gripped the side of the pool with my hands, staring at the bag like it contained a lethal disease. “And what’s that, pray tell? A container of cockroaches you plan to unleash onto my house?”
He didn’t move a muscle on his face. “These are the video games Steven lent me before he—” He tightened his jaw. “So, I’m bringing them back to you.”
My chest clenched. The wound I’d been trying to patch up the last few days split open, and I had to fight my hardest not to show the pain on my face.
“You can put the bag there and leave.” I pointed at the deck chair, looking everywhere but at that bag. It contained memories that now served solely as a reminder that Steven was dead.
He placed the bag on the deck chair, but instead of leaving, he turned to look at me. “I also came to apologize to you. You’re going through a hard time, so I don’t want to make things worse for you.”
I dug my fingers into the tiles, seething. Yes, there was definitely something about him that could always hack me off.