Steal Me (Haunted Roads Book 1)

by India R. Adams

  She turned to her side on our new secondhand mattress. “Now I understand little boys’ fascination with trains.”

  Still out of breath from my climax, I chuckled. “I don’t think this is what they’re thinking about when little boys holler, ‘Choo-choo’!”

  We both laughed freely, knowing there would be lots of noisy sex as the train passed our windows. Looking around our bare studio apartment, Lilah happily yelled, “Maverick! This feels so much better. Doesn’t it?”

  I kissed her, rolling back on top of her. “Damn straight. Together is how we belong. Forever, Lilah?”

  Her lips pulled on mine. “Yes.”

  It felt so natural to ask at that very moment, “Will you marry me?”

  Magic… another magical moment in my life. And with that magic, our overpriced dump became our castle.

  We were happy.

  We were together.

  We were in love.

  We needed nothing else.

  We finished our crazy, hectic college years in overloaded, overworked bliss.

  Chapter Fifteen

  After college was over, Lilah followed her brother’s footsteps and joined the family’s successful construction business. She had graduated with a business degree and begun to take over her father’s office. Profit margins were growing, and for the most part, Lilah seemed settled. The only thing that kept me on edge was that she was showing signs of being spooked again. There seemed to be a shadow following her everywhere she went. I hadn’t realized how much we had lived without the ghost of Kenny until we moved back home, where he lurked in the shadows.

  I went straight into professional boxing, joining the IBF—the International Boxing Federation. After every fight, I would hop on a plane and rush home to my girl. Since Lilah and I had lived together for three years during school, my mom and her dad didn’t try to separate us. They each opened homes for us. We occupied both of our old bedrooms.

  A now nine-year-old Bailey loved when we stayed with her, and Lilah and I switched every couple of nights so both parents could have their kids living with them again. My mom and John knew Lilah and I would be leaving the nests for the last time when we built our own home, so they delved into having us one more time. Between Lilah’s regular paycheck and my win earnings, we were saving up money to buy our land in cash and pay for the wedding Lilah wanted.

  Delilah and I knew that boxing careers were usually short lived and that I would soon settle and put my engineering degree to use. With Tucker taking Mr. Ward’s business to a whole new level, John claimed to have an offer waiting that I couldn’t refuse. I followed my dream, figuring I’d cross that road when ready.

  Within six months, Lilah and I were standing on the property we were considering buying. It was a plot of land we had been eyeing on the outskirts of town, and it was beautiful. Four acres of untouched earth were calling to me, telling me it was time to grow some roots.

  “We can’t afford this property, Maverick.”

  Completely baffled, I stopped imagining my new home. “What?” We had more than enough money for the land and a good chunk set aside to start our home’s construction.

  “We need to keep cash available for emergencies.” She muttered in frustration, “Maverick, things have… changed.”

  “Only thing changing is your mood swings. What gives?”

  An inaudible whisper came from her lips.

  I put my ear toward her. “Sorry, I’m not Superman with his super hearing.”

  She smacked me and whispered again.

  I couldn’t believe my ears. “Lilah… did you just say you’re pregnant?”

  She covered her face. “I’m so sorry, Maverick.”

  My brain was almost toasted at that point, but my heart was on fire.

  A kid.

  A kid.

  Holy shit! A kid!

  Delilah touched my shoulder. “Maverick? You’re mumbling, and it’s scaring me.”

  I looked at the love of my life. “A kid. You’re gonna give me my own fucking kid?”

  Bailey was also a love of my life, but I’d had to let her be my mom’s daughter again. A part of me had gone into hibernation with that loss of parenting. The thought of having my own child was making my heart soar.

  Lilah’s face softened, showing she was recognizing my joyous tone. “You’re not mad?”

  I inhaled deeply as my eyes watered. “Unless you think the best news of my life is supposed to make me mad, no! I’m not mad. I’m—I’m, fuck! I’m so grateful that your beautiful body is offering me a gift that can compare to no other.”

  Overwhelmed in excitement, I suddenly pushed her to the ground. Delilah screamed, “What are you doing?”

  Pulling her jeans down, I said, “Having my first piece of ass on my land.” She laughed and screamed some more as I ripped off my shirt, yelling, “I feel like fucking Tarzan.” I stopped unbuckling my jeans and beat on my bare chest. “King of the jungle!”

  Then I slid home. I glided into Delilah, on the land I was going to buy as soon as I was done having sex.

  Score!

  Back at her dad’s, the conversation went something like this:

  “How? I—I don’t understand.”

  Okay, so Mr. Ward is not taking this well.

  I was back at the dining room table with my knees shaking the way they had the night we’d told her dad we wanted to live together during college. If Mr. Ward had any hope his daughter was still a virgin, we had just annihilated it.

  “Dad! I’ve been careful, but the pill isn’t a hundred percent—”

  “Stop! I don’t want to think of you and Maverick—ugh! I have my limits.” Suddenly, Mr. Ward glared at me like I was from hell and must be terminated. He pushed his chair from the table. Self-preservation had me pushing my chair away from the table too.

  Tucker laughed. Fucker.

  Lilah warned, “Daddy, don’t you dare.”

  Daddy stood up. I stood up.

  “Daddy! I’m serious!”

  Daddy chased. I ran out the front door.

  Tucker had warned me that if I knocked up his sister, I was on my own with their dad, and he’d meant it. Tuck was busy laughing, holding his beer and watching me run from the madman trying to kill me in their front yard.

  “Daddy! Stop this right now!”

  Tuck hollered, “Dad, they lived together. Did you really believe they were going to stop having sex because she is back under your roof?”

  Mr. Ward stopped chasing me as he thought long and hard. Panting and pouting, he replied, “Well, yes.”

  Tucker burst out laughing. “Surprise! They didn’t stop, dumbass.” Then he walked back inside the house.

  Needless to say, Mr. Ward insisted on a shotgun wedding to save his daughter’s small-town virtue. I didn’t give two shits. Marrying his daughter had always been my plan. But apparently, being with child changes a person’s perspective on many issues. Lying in my old room, Lilah had her hand on her flat tummy. “I don’t want a big wedding, Maverick. I want to give this baby whatever she or he needs. Spending money on a lavish reception now seems… ridiculous.”

  With flowers in hand, Delilah became Mrs. Maverick Hutton in the small church of our quaint little town. John and my mom looked on, wearing similar expressions. I could only imagine they were thinking of lost spouses who weren’t witnessing this monumental moment in their children’s lives. It must have been bittersweet.

  Then came preparing for a baby, which became extensive. Mr. Ward and my mom got a little carried away, filling our garage full of crap before it was even finished being built! I didn’t know what kind of relationship Lilah had with Mr. Ward’s employees, but the walls of our home were going up with record speed. It was amazing to see her belly gather a bump and her heart flourish as our new home took shape. Every night I was home, I laid my ear on the bump and listened. Her laughter made my head bob. “Maverick, I think you need a stethoscope to hear anything.”

  “Shh, my baby is talkin’ t
o its pop.” Then I joked, “What’s that, baby? Did you say I’m gonna be the best dad in the world?”

  With our new happiness, my Lilah seemed to lose the ghost of Kenny again. And again, it seemed magic was surrounding my world…

  But I now realize that Delilah’s haunted road is a long, well-hidden route. And she’ll never escape it. I thought I stole her from Kenny’s grasp, as she asked me to, but I didn’t. I’m leaving her to forever remember Kenny… because this same haunted road is taking my life as well.

  My dad’s old truck is beginning to fill with smoke as I stare at the tree Kenny once wrapped Delilah’s car around. The rain pelts the cage I’m trapped in while I wonder about the mother of my unborn child and how she will ever survive another tragic loss. The fire crawls up the hood as if it is alive and coming for me. I guess it is.

  My pinned legs are beginning to feel the heat. Soon, my whole body will feel it.

  Good-bye, my Lilah.

  I don’t think it’s possible to hate someone you love.

  I should.

  I should tell…

  I should scream!

  But I can’t.

  I love him.

  ~Delilah~

  Chapter Sixteen

  Tucker

  Anyone who has been through it knows how gut wrenching it is to watch someone you love die. The antiseptic smell of the hospital room, the unforgiving blinking fluorescent lights, and the machines with their never-ending beeping and whooshing noises hooked to someone beloved are all things that change a person.

  The cold air that smelled of a mixture of sickness and bleach, and all that followed that nauseating aroma, were what started the change in me.

  Once the cancer had spread, ripping all hope away from us, my mama was admitted to the hospital permanently. I was a seven-year-old boy who was forced to watch my family stumble and fall as my mama’s soul was washed from our lives. Her once warm brown eyes began to fade, as did my aspirations. Every embrace she could offer I received as if it were my last. The end was near. Her withering size and grey fucking skin told me so.

  Never had I seen my father on his knees so much. Prayers exited that man as often as his exhalations.

  Unanswered prayers.

  Delilah had just turned five. Her age gave her an innocence and courage I could not match, or so it seemed. Her questioning, big brown eyes were what kept my growing bitterness—to the upcoming loss—at bay. Delilah would hold my hand while my tears fell to the hard damned hospital floor, not understanding what was making me so sad. She didn’t understand that what was left of our mama’s fight was quickly dissipating.

  As a little boy, I pleaded with my mama to recover, but she couldn’t. I would sit next to her in her railed hospital bed as she, in her weakened state, explained, “I love you, munchkin… so much that if I could make all this stop…” Her voice broke as her own big brown eyes welled up. “I would, baby. I promise.”

  My mama was beautiful inside and out. She had country roots and would say, “God just didn’t see it fit, munchkin.” She said God had decided it was time for her to come home. That made me happy because to my young, naive ears that meant my mama was to return to my house—the house that smelled of love and that damn peach cobbler that I would never get to taste again. I soon learned there was another home God was speaking of, and he took my mama there.

  Delilah asked me, “Can mama breathe in that box, Tucko?”

  Hearing her, my father collapsed into a chair that stood on the green, plush grass surrounding the open gravesite and said nothing as his shoulders shook uncontrollably. I was the one left to answer the sweetest little girl in the world. Trembling from the shock of the loss, I told her, “No, Delilah. Mama don’t breathe anymore.”

  I heard a familiar female, adult voice loudly whispering for her child to obey. “No, Viola! No…” But that child had always had a mind of her own and came to me anyway. Viola was only six but somehow knew I needed her. The three of us stood there holding hands, silently saying good-bye to my mama as the earth swallowed her casket, not knowing in a few years this scene would replay itself. Except, the next time, Viola would be the one needing me.

  Family and friends brought food and kind words of encouragement that felt empty to me. All I wanted was my mama. I felt it was a simple request. I also felt it fucking sucked that it was being denied. After the funeral, Dad tried to exist in a world he was sure hated him and was punishing him for sins he was unaware he’d committed.

  It was dark when I woke in my bed to a tiny little voice asking for so much more than her words were saying. “Tucko? Can I sleep with you? Daddy keeps crying, and… I can’t sleep.”

  His muffled sobs found their way through the walls of the silent bedroom we shared. Delilah, hearing my dad breaking into pieces, was probably incredibly scared. I guessed this because it was terrifying for me. I lifted my blanket, offering—and also looking for—comfort. She crawled out of her bed, tiptoed across the carpet, and snuck into my bed, snuggling her back against my chest, showing her unease with all that was happening. I think not understanding what had changed our existence made it all that much more traumatic for Delilah.

  We both lay there, staring at the wall that was between us and the man crying.

  “Will I like school, Tucko?” she whispered in the dark.

  On top of everything, poor Delilah was getting shoved into kindergarten. My parents had planned on holding her off a year—like they had with me—so she could have more time with mama before life took charge. But life took charge ahead of schedule. Delilah had just turned five—the age required in Georgia—and my dad had to return to work, building the construction business that my mama and he had dreamed about. So not only had Delilah lost her mama—something she was too young to fully grasp—but she was now taking a monumental step in her life.

  That moment, when I decided to put my own fears aside and not to let my mama down, I grew up. I had been lucky and had my mom’s personal attention and influence to help me mature at a rapid rate, since I had been with her every day the first six years of my life. During one of our hospital-bed talks, she had asked me for a very special promise before she passed: to watch over her precious daughter whom my mom would never get to mold and watch grow into a young woman.

  That night, I locked my promise into place. I squeezed little Delilah. “I think you’re gonna love school.”

  Within what felt like no time, I was holding a trembling little hand, waiting at the bus stop. Life was moving on and forcing Delilah and me to travel a path unknown to the both of us. My father had seemed just as nervous. He shakily knelt in front of me. “Tucker, you watch over her, you hear me?”

  “Yes, sir,” I said, wanting a magic pill to dissolve my inner pain.

  When I got to Delilah’s classroom, she still refused to let go of my sweaty palm. We both stood at the doorway and watched the circus take place. Kids were in high gear, excited to be seeing each other again. They had all been going to daycare and preschool together. Lilah had been home with mama. The only child Lilah would know in the classroom was Viola. Our moms had been friends since right after high school—till the end.

  I heard moms introducing their children to the teacher, Mrs. Benson—who I’d had the year prior. “This is my son Houston,” and “This is my daughter Adele.” I laughed when I heard, “Cole Coleman! You stop that right this minute,” and saw a blond kid mischievously smiling, jumping from one chair to the other.

  Delilah was chewing on a finger of her free hand as she watched Viola’s mama happily showing Viola her new desk. Then Delilah timidly asked a gut-wrenching question. “Tucko, why couldn’t mama come today? Is she still in that box?”

  I wanted to say, “Part of her is there, Delilah. Another part is in a different home now,” but my throat tightened, and I didn’t want to cry in front of everyone. I only did that when alone. “You want me to take you to your desk?”

  “Yeah,” she quietly answered and followed me, still hol
ding my hand.

  Delilah slept in my bed for the next two months. Eventually, my dad became my inspiration with his fight to survive a loss that had brought this family to its knees. He slowly pulled himself through unimaginable grief and faced life head-on.

  One day, Viola’s mama knocked on our front door, but when my dad didn’t answer fast enough, several little bangs followed. I quietly chuckled, knowing that tiny demon was being impatient as always. I heard Viola’s mama say, “Viola! Stop kicking the door. They’re coming.”

  My dad opened the door, saying, “Thanks so much for coming,” as Viola pushed past him.

  “Viola!” her mother said. “Say hello to Mr. Ward.”

  As Viola came straight to me and Delilah, she sang out over her shoulder, “Hello, Mr. Ward.” Then she collided into us because she wasn’t paying attention, knocking all three of us to the floor.

  It felt so good to laugh, till my father said to Viola’s mama, “They say these meetings may help me.” His voice had a touch of insecurity that made me feel unsteady internally.

  I was getting up from the floor, pulling the giggling girls with me while watching Viola’s mother. “I believe they will, John. Go and try. I’ve got the young’uns.”

  Viola’s mama feeding us dinner and having us in our PJs in a timely manner had me missing my mom somethin’ awful. That was until Viola leapt off the couch and onto my back, distracting me by demanding a piggyback ride. The girls were not the smallest in their class—and never would be because of our parents’ sizes—but I was no shrimp, either, and could carry both with no problem.

  In our small living room, from my back, Viola sang out, “Delilah, it’s your turn.”

  Delilah was ready for a ride but said, “They don’t call me that anymore. I have a nickname now.” The only change my father hadn’t been able to overcome was Delilah’s name. Hearing the same name as his dead wife seemed to be a deal breaker. Delilah became Lilah.