Undefeated - A New Adult Romance Novel

by Hildreth, Scott

  Life has a way of sneaking up on us.

  This, in itself, is why I pay attention to all of the little details.

  I don’t like surprises.

  “So, you think you’re going to be alright, babe?” I asked as we turned the corner into the residential neighborhood.

  “I think so, as long as you’re close by. You make me really feel comfortable. I don’t get excited anymore around you,” she giggled.

  “Nervous?” I asked.

  “Duh,” she said flatly.

  “How long?” I asked.

  “I don’t know for sure, I think it’s been ten years. I’m not really sure. I don’t remember. It’s been a long time. Since before I graduated high school, if I remember right,” she said.

  Kace, no different than I, didn’t remember a tremendous amount of her childhood. Her memories - or lack of memories, lasted much later into her teens. I suppose her problems lasted longer as well. I didn’t remember my childhood because I was moved around and my father was gone. She didn’t remember because she had events or circumstances her mind chose to set aside.

  Women like her, coming from the background she came from, tend to set aside memories associated with abuse. The funny thing about our mind is that it will often set aside e period of time – maybe a few years – to get rid of a few memories of particular events.

  Kace hadn’t initially told me, but eventually she admitted that her father abused her mother physically. Her mother finally left her father after many years of being beaten. Kace, at the time, was about twelve. Being exposed to this abuse generally makes the children either totally opposed to abuse, or an abuser. It just depends on the person and how their mind processes it.

  “By the GPS, we’re just a few blocks, you sure you’re alright?” I asked.

  “My stomach feels funny. But you can’t fix it. Just go, I’ll be fine,” she responded.

  I was glad that we decided to come see her mother now, long before the holidays. It might allow her to make the adjustments needed, which would allow her to see her family at Thanksgiving and Christmas.

  “Well, here we are, house number 648,” I said as we pulled up to the front of the home.

  She swallowed heavily.

  “You alright?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” she sounded like she had a frog in her throat.

  “Babe, any time you’re ready to go just tell me so. I’m damn near as nervous as you,” I chuckled lightly.

  She nodded.

  “Who, babe? Who’s the most beautiful woman in the world?” I asked.

  She pointed to her chest and smiled, “I am.”

  “Yes, babe. You are,” I said as I leaned over toward her seat and kissed her.

  “Ready?” I asked.

  She opened the door to the truck and got out.

  I guess that means yes.

  Kace was one of the most, if the absolute strongest women I have ever met. Kace was a true survivor. One hundred pounds of tough.

  As I fumbled with the door handle, she stepped around to my side of the truck and waited. Finally, I opened the door, and stepped outside the truck.

  “Alright, let’s do this,” I said as I held my arm out to my side.

  After she attached herself to my arm, we walked up the sidewalk together to the front porch of the house. As I reached out to ring the buzzer, the door slowly opened.

  “Oh dear Lord. The pictures didn’t do you any justice. Kace, you’re beautiful,” a woman said through the opened door. She was petite, blonde, and very pretty.

  “Come in,” she said. As she held her arms out, they began to shake.

  As we stepped inside the home, Kace immediately hugged her mother. Ten years of sorrow began to run down the cheeks of both women as they embraced. The sounds of sobbing muffled the sound of everything else.

  “I’m sorry,” Kace sobbed as she wrapped her arms around her mother’s shoulders.

  “No, baby. I’m so sorry. I never should have let you go,” her mother apologized as she began to cry uncontrollably.

  I stepped to the side of the doorway, feeling somewhat uncomfortable with the situation. Seeing Kace crying like this was not easy for me. Seeing people cry, in general, was difficult for me, especially women. Feeling somewhat helpless, I found a chair and sat quietly as they stood and cried in each other’s arms. Slowly, I pulled my hood up over my head, and pressed the soft fabric into the sides of my face.

  Eventually, they walked into the living room and sat down side-by-side on the couch. I sat and watched them exchange short embarrassed glances at each other as they covered their mouths and tried to stop crying. Eye makeup streamed down each of their faces.

  “I missed you so much,” Kace sobbed.

  “I missed you, Kace,” her mother whimpered as she leaned over and kissed Kace’s forehead.

  Her mother stood, looked at me, back toward Kace, and sat down as if she were confused on what to do or how to digest the entire reunion. Overcome with emotion, her mind appeared to be having a difficult time deciding what the proper thing to do with a situation like this was. Not seeing or talking to your child in a decade, and then trying to start over as if nothing happened would be difficult at best.

  “Oh God, this is too much, Kace. I feel like I’m going to have a heart attack,” her mother said as she held her hand against her chest. Her breathing was short and choppy as she tried to control her sobbing.

  “Mother, don’t say that,” Kace smiled and wiped her eyes as she spoke.

  Finally, they were smiling.

  Her mother, between sobs, laughed. As they hugged again, I relaxed and leaned back into the chair. Watching someone cry tears of joy can be almost uplifting. Watching someone cry tears of sorrow has always made me feel helpless. This was, in my opinion, a combination of both. My emotions were riding a roller coaster and I felt like I couldn’t see the track ahead.

  “So, this is Shannon?” her mother asked as she stood again.

  “No mother. Shane,” Kace responded.

  As her mother approached, I stood. She opened her arms and reached for me, and I met her with a heartfelt hug. As we embraced, she sighed.

  “I’m so glad you saved her,” she said as she released me from her grasp.

  Before I could respond, Kace spoke up.

  “Mother, I saved myself. Shane has just been here for me. He talked me into seeing you. I’ve been scared. If anyone knows, you know,” Kace took a breath and wiped her face.

  “Oh look at us, our makeup all over our faces, come on,” her mother said as she grabbed Kace’s hand and led her away.

  I felt even more at ease as I heard them laughing and talking in the bathroom. A mother and her daughter reunited after this length of time. I exhaled and relaxed. I thought of my father, and how long he had been dead. It had only been a few years since his death, but seeing him again, now, would be gut wrenching at best. I recalled all of the time he was away when I was young, and seeing him when he would return from war.

  The initial excitement of seeing him was almost overwhelming. Sometimes, I felt as if I was going to vomit. After some time, my emotions settled, and I felt like he had never left. When it was time for his next deployment, I would become angry and short tempered. My father’s company, although sacred, was a difficult time for me emotionally.

  They walked back into the room laughing. As if I knew what each of them felt, I sensed I could predict what emotions they would feel throughout this meeting, based on my many similar meetings with my father. As my body relaxed, I slumped into the soft chair, and got lost in the memories of my father, my childhood, and my love for both.

  Pulling the blankets tightly over his head, the sounds of the screaming are muffled. The closed bedroom door and the television on the other side of the wall prevent the little boy from hearing details.

  As much as he fears what he may hear, he yearns to know. Slowly, he pulls the blankets away from his face, in an attempt to hear what is on the other side of the wall.
His face barely visible, his head still covered, he peers through the opening he has created in the blankets.

  From the other side of the wall, a muffled scream can be heard.

  The little boy covers his head.

  A dull thud.

  The little boy uncovers his face, rubbing the soft fabric of the blanket into the sides of his cheeks.

  Two voices, almost inaudible, alternate screams.

  Another dull thud.

  The little boy covers his face, buries his head into the pillow, and cries.

  As he lay in the only safe place he knows, the boy finds comfort in the shelter of the blankets that lay atop his bed. It is here that he can always find solace.

  Comfort.

  There, with is face covered, he is safe.

  KACE. What we try to remember and what we prefer to forget. Our mind doesn’t always have an understanding of how we want these things sorted. Sometimes a simple memory can be enough to defeat even the toughest soul.

  Acceptance of these memories as being in the past, and understanding that they are nothing more than a reminder can often allow us to continue through our current life without feeling guilt, sorrow, or shame. Not accepting them as such can allow us to be overcome by the emotion associated with the memory.

  “Shane, baby, you fell asleep,” I said as I tugged on his arm.

  He pulled his arm away from me and pressed his hood against his face.

  “Baby?” I said softly as I bent down toward his face.

  He pulled against the sides of his hood and looked out of the opening.

  “Oh,” he paused and looked around the room.

  “Sorry,” he said as he sat up in the chair.

  “I must have fallen asleep,” he apologized as he pulled his hood from his face.

  He face was covered in sweat.

  “It’s hot in here, baby. You shouldn’t wear your hoodie,” I said as I leaned into the chair to kiss him.

  “Where’s your mother?” he asked as he looked around the room.

  I steadied his face with my hands and looked into his eyes, “She is making lunch for us,” I said as I pressed my lips against his.

  As if the kiss woke him up totally, he held me in his arms and kissed me deeply. “Kace, you mean the world to me,” he said.

  “You mean the world to me,” I responded.

  “No, I mean. Well, fuck. I don’t know what I’m trying to say. I just. I don’t know. I want to spend the rest of my life being everything you want in a man. I want to make up for your lifetime of what you haven’t received. I want to always be here for you. I want so much for you to be happy,” he said.

  “What got into you? I am happy,” I responded.

  “An entirely different degree of happy,” he said as he stood up and pulled his hoodie off.

  “Okay,” I said, “sounds good.”

  He looked around the room as he tossed his hoodie on the back of the chair. He rubbed his eyes and turned to focus on my face. Slowly, he smiled.

  “How long was I out?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. We talked a while. I heard you snore after a bit. But we just decided to leave you. I thought you were worn out from all of the training for the fight. Is that okay?” I asked.

  “No, babe. It’s fine,” he said as he stretched his arms behind his back.

  “While she’s cooking, you wanna look at some stuff with me?” I asked excitedly.

  “Sure, what do ya got?” he asked as he rubbed his hands together.

  “Well, mom said she had all my stuff from when I was in high school in a room. She saved everything. I want to go look at it. I might want to take a few things home,” I giggled as I rubbed my hands together jokingly.

  As we both stood and rubbed our hands together, I got excited. Excited to see things I hadn’t seen in ten years. Things I had long since forgotten. These old memories were going to be nice to sift and sort through. Not knowing what I would encounter was exciting. I tried to recall what she might have set aside, and the excitement almost overcame me.

  “Well?” I asked.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  “Mom, we’re going to go snoop,” I screamed into the kitchen.

  “Okay, have fun. There’s a foot locker beside the bed,” a shallow voice responded.

  I opened the door and Shane and I stepped inside. Immediately, I felt a wave of heat come over me. I began to shake lightly.

  My Hello Kitty comforter on the bed. I snuggled under that comforter forever. Josh and I first…

  Fucking Josh.

  I turned and looked at the wall. All of my medals from running in track were on the wall in a shadow box. My throat felt full, and a lump rose as I walked to the box. Newspaper clippings were framed on each side of the display. I walked toward the framed pages and looked at the dates.

  “Oh my God. This was my senior year - after I left. She kept them, Shane. She kept them,” I said as I pointed at the framed articles.

  Several of the articles were for first place running in long distance. I always liked running, it allowed me to clear my head. The habit of running has stuck with me and become one of the few things I now look forward to. A five mile run will clear my mind like nothing else can. I turned and looked at Shane.

  “Fun, huh?” he said as he looked around the room at my things.

  It was truly a step back in time, and rather overwhelming. I gazed at the foot of the bed, and wondered what was in the locker on the floor beside the foot of the bed. I knelt down beside it and placed my hands on top of the locker.

  “Come here, babe. Let’s see what’s in here,” I said, pointing to the locker.

  I placed both of my hands on the top of the lid.

  Shane knelt down beside me and sat cross legged on the floor. He turned, put his arm around my shoulder, and pulled me close to him. As I leaned into his shoulder, he kissed me softly on the lips. I pressed my thumbs under the top of the lid as he kissed me.

  “Babe, I’m so glad we’re here,” he said as our lips parted.

  “So am I,” I responded as I took a deep breath.

  He turned and looked at the locker as I opened the lid. A musty smell came out as it opened. My dresses, my shirts, my pants, my skirts - all folded nicely. I turned and looked at Shane, excited to see all of these things that I hadn’t seen in ten or more years. The rush of emotion was filling me.

  “Babe, look,” I said as I sorted through the articles of clothing.

  I picked up a dress from my sophomore year in school and smelled it. Holding it in my arms, I turned toward Shane. He gazed into the foot locker and rubbed his dog tags frantically with his right hand.

  Something’s wrong.

  His lip was quivering.

  “Babe,” I said softly.

  He started to stand, his hand under his shirt on his dog tags.

  “Babe,” I said as I stood up.

  Something’s bad wrong.

  I heard a snap.

  His hand came out from under his shirt, holding the broken chain in his hand. He turned and looked at me as if he were in a trance.

  And as the dog tags fell from his hand, Shane Dekkar collapsed into a lifeless pile on the floor.

  KACE. Having what we hold dear to our heart pulled from our grasp puts things - all things - in perspective. Not knowing when or if the object we love will be returned allows us to truly understand just exactly how deeply that object is embedded in our life.

  “I need to know what’s going on,” I begged.

  “I’m sorry ma’am. You’ll just have to wait until someone can see you,” the nurse responded.

  “Is there someone else I can talk to?” I asked frantically.

  “No. There is no one else. I’ll have a doctor come see you as soon as someone knows something,” she said over the top of the nurse’s station.

  I put my hands on my hips, looked down at the floor, and wanted to cry. I refused to become weak. I needed to be strong for Shane. I looked up and dow
n the hallway as I saw someone come running toward me. Thank God.

  Ripp.

  I held my arms out in front of me and flapped my hands.

  As he picked me up from the floor and into his arms, I felt comfortable that I was not alone. I felt so helpless and incapable up until now. He hugged me and let me back down onto the floor.

  “I got here as soon as I got the voicemail. You didn’t answer your phone,” he gasped for breath as he spoke.

  My eyes began to well with tears.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” I began to cry.

  I wiped my eyes and took a breath, “He just. He. We were in my mother’s new house. We started looking at stuff. He just woke up from a nap. He seemed weird. But he stood up, and pulled his dog tags off. And then he collapsed. When the ambulance got here, he was,” I started crying and couldn’t continue.

  “It’s okay Shorty. I’m here until they release him. So, what happened when the ambulance came?” Ripp asked as he hugged me lightly.

  I thought about what Shane was doing and I began to tremble, “He was just in a ball on the floor. Like he was…”

  “Uhhm, like his brain didn’t work anymore. He didn’t blink or talk or anything,” I sobbed.

  “Oh. Fuck. What are they saying now?” he asked as he released me and wiped the tears from my face.

  “Nothing. She won’t tell me anything,” I said as I pointed to the nurse’s station.

  “Stand over there,” he said as he motioned to the other side of the hallway.

  Confused, I stepped to the other side of the hallway, leaned on the wall, and watched Ripp. Dressed in his cargo shorts, sneakers, and a tank top, he was rather intimidating to those that didn’t know him. He turned to the nurse’s station, took a breath, and started talking. His voice was very matter-of-fact and direct.

  “I’m Mike Dekkar, Shane’s brother. I need to know what his status is. He was brought in by ambulance,” he said to the nurse as he leaned onto the top tier of the station.

  The nurse took a breath, sighed, and looked up at Ripp.

  “Sir, I told his wife a moment ago – I don’t know. If you’d like to go wait in the waiting room, I’ll have you an answer in a little while. I’ll have someone come see you in a bit,” as she finished speaking she looked back down at her keyboard.