“No.”
That breathy reply jolted me from my action and into another. Still holding her, I punched the wall.
My head exhaustedly rested on hers. I was defeated even though she was surrendering to me. “Then why would you have let me do it?”
“Because… then we’d be even.”
I recoiled. “What?” She may have been Bryce’s girlfriend, but she was my fucking girl.
“If you knew… you wouldn’t still want me, Tuck.”
No matter what she believed, that would never be true.
Kenny dying was the beginning of my final step to maturity. It wasn’t a choice as much as a demand, another step I was being forced to take. I was refusing to take it. So I ran… as soon as I had my high school diploma, I said good-bye to the fucking town that had swallowed my mother and Kenny and now was eating away at Lilah and V.
College was not to start for a few months, but I went anyway. It was only a two-hour drive to Atlanta, but it seemed so much longer. With every mile I drove, I felt as though another piece of my flesh was being painfully ripped from my body. Two crying girls were left in my front yard because I’d behaved like a coward, again.
During the drive, their words kept echoing in my head…
“Please, don’t do this,” Lilah had cried as she pulled on the front of my shirt, trying to get me to change my mind.
“Tuck, I’m so sorry.” V had kissed my cheek as her tears fell. “This was never my intention.”
Lilah had cried. “You promised for us three to never part,” she’d said between gritted teeth.
I thought of our childhood vow. “You and V broke the promise first.”
In my eyes, that was the truth. They had abandoned me first. So selfish was I.
Lilah’s desperate little fist dropped from my shirt as her expression fell to shocked misery. Viola slowly stumbled backward as if I had just punched her in the heart. I fought with my steering wheel. I even turned my car around and sat in a parking lot until my phone rang. It was Cole.
“Yo.”
“Tuck, hey you around? I need to talk to you.”
I stared out my windshield, back toward my old home. “No. Headed to school.”
“What? So soon? Tucker, I really need to talk to you about Delilah—”
Knives sharp with emotion dove into my raw, exposed chest. “You can find her crying in my front yard.” I hung up, then I pussied out, heading to Atlanta and away from reality. It was simple. There was just too much pain waiting for me back home.
Getting my living arrangements in order was easy enough when I found a fully furnished dump. Then I got a job at an auto repair shop. Because of Diesel, I knew enough about older engines for someone to hire me. It was temporary, though. Once my classes were to start, my dad said I wouldn’t be working, just getting the best grades possible. My dad was not proud of me running away but seemed sympathetic about my torment. The thing was, he only knew half of it because he never knew about Kenny and Delilah.
Viola texted and called me often. I never replied or answered the phone.
I cleared my conscience as much as I could and focused my attention forward, where there were no memories of Kenny. Soon, I met another group of friends who were searching for mischief, and I sank back into old habits. I’m not going to lie and say how strong I was and that I only saw the upside and moved on with my life, yippy ya fucking yay, and all that shit. Instead, I joined the fast track of life and—with my new acquaintances—partied my ass off and literally fucked my way into oblivion.
My tiny apartment started smelling like a sex factory, and the condom factory was working long hours to keep up with me. I had nightly parties that—more often than not—ended in blackouts with a naked girl or two in my bed. Still, every time my phone lit up and I saw another attempt being made by V, I thanked my lucky fucking stars that she wasn’t giving up on my sorry ass ’cause apparently I had.
In my bed, on my back, I was trying to be interested in the overly energetic cowgirl riding me, when someone knocked on my door. The naked girl giggled and leapt off me, singing, “I’ll get it,” thinking Larry or one of the guys was back for more consumption. As my drunk ass stumbled to my bedroom doorway to follow her, I heard the apartment door open and then, “Jesus. It smells like a whorehouse in here.”
My body jolted. Viola.
“Who are you?” my sex dingbat stupidly inquired.
“The bitch who’s kicking you out,” Viola answered. “Put on whatever getup goes along with your cowgirl hat, and exit this dwelling.” Then I heard her calling a cab.
When she hung up, I slurred, “What are you doing here, V?” leaning against my bedroom doorframe as my cowgirl, whatever her name was, put her clothes—which were strung all over my apartment—back on.
Viola’s disapproving eyes met mine, and as she looked up and down my naked body, her upper lip curled. “I had planned on getting up close and personal someday with that dick you’re mistreating.”
I wanted to run to her and beg her to kick my ass then drag it home. Just the sight of her was making it easier to breathe. But I was a dumbass at heart. “I wrap my shit tight. Don’t you worry.”
She nodded and pointed at the used condom I was still sporting. “Shower.”
I stood taller, or as tall as my drunk, hunched-over self would let me. “Don’t come in my home and start—”
Oh, fuck. Hand to the hip.
“Tucker. John. Ward. Get your skank-sexing, motherfucking, filthy ass in that shower before you experience me losing my ever-loving fucking mind!”
While in the shower, I thought of ways I could win back my man card. I stewed on the fact V was bossing me, and I thought about all the tough, manly things I could say to her, but when I opened my bathroom door and found her doing my dishes, I sobered up immediately. I couldn’t help it. Some women just have that effect on a man. That woman was the true strength behind the poser that I was being.
Cowgirl was gone, and V didn’t even glance at me. “I changed your sheets.”
With a towel around my waist, I said in a scratchy voice, “V.”
“I don’t know how you managed to fuck this place up so severely in three weeks, but you did.” She waved at all the lingering trash and empty beer bottles.
“I’m sorry.”
She grabbed a dishtowel and finally faced me, impatience owning her tone. “Well, that’s not good enough. Your sister is a mess. Stop being a coward.”
I nodded, stepping toward her, needing her. She looked away but didn’t move away, only lifted her defiant chin. V was letting me come to her even though I’d abandoned her and my sister. That thawed my cold heart and slowly took me to my knees. I buried my face in her stomach, desperately wrapping my arms around her little waist, silently begging for forgiveness. I hoped she couldn’t tell I was crying, but the way she ran her fingers through my hair and told me to breathe explained I was still brainless. She knew.
I held on to that female while I took a hard look in the mirror of denial.
On my clean sheets, we lay in my bed that night, facing each other in silence. I was calm again and, with her presence, feeling somewhat whole again. My bedroom was dark, but her blue eyes could be seen because of the dim streetlamp outside, something we didn’t have out in the country. My room already smelled like her—some floral shit that no one else could mimic. I inhaled the pillow we were sharing.
She giggled. “What are you doing?”
“Hoping your fucking smell doesn’t leave when you do.”
“My smell? You’re such a sweet talker, Tucker Ward.”
“Yeah, your natural odor makes me fucking hungry.”
Her smile grew. “Why your nickname ain’t Romeo bewilders the hell out of me.”
We stared at each other again. Don’t leave me, V.
“You miss him, Tuck. But he’s not the only death you’re runnin’ from.”
I flinched as old, unhealed wounds of my mom’s death rose to the sur
face, demanding to be dealt with. Viola reached out and took hold of my shoulder. Her eyes were full of compassion. “Why do you think you are such a scrapper, Tucker? Always needin’ to release anger.”
My head shook, begging her to leave me be.
“You didn’t have a Diesel to talk you through it. Your dad was in too much misery to help you, and you were too busy caring for Delilah.”
My body began to tremble because so much was catching up to me. With Viola came the memories I had been running from. I’d never had a real opportunity to deal with a loss that was so unbearable I chose not to bear it, and now another death was piled on my shoulders.
Viola’s hand slid to the back of my head, and she pulled my forehead to hers. “Who was there to take care of my Tuck?” Her sweet breath brushed across my lips.
I whispered, “You were.”
She gasped and, again, I wanted to kiss her. It was amazing to recognize how falling into physical, sexual contact helped me avoid mental despair.
The silence returned for a while.
“Why do you think I won’t forgive you?” I asked.
She touched my face, looking as if she was mustering up the strength to talk to me. My eyes closed at her soft, so familiar touch. “Because… I was too busy judging when I should have done more to help and now, Lilah—” She stopped talking, eyes avoiding mine.
I knew she was shutting me out again and panicked. “Now Lilah what? Please, V. What happened?”
She started crying so damn hard. “I—I promised, Tucker! Please, don’t make me go against my word.”
I quickly wrapped her up in my arms and held this wonderful bitch tight. “Never. Never will I ask that of you.” I hated that she was hurting. “Can you give me your word about at least one thing?”
Her eyes met mine as she sniffled. “I’ll try.”
“Did you mean for anything bad to happen to either Lilah or Kenny?”
She was appalled, as I knew she would be. “No! Of course not.”
I grinned through the pain of mentioning his name. “Then what’s there to forgive?”
Viola melted again, this time in hysterics. “Because I knew! I knew about Jenny, and I still let him leave! I was just so fucking angry! I should’ve been better for him, for Delilah, for you, Tucker. I should’ve been better for you. Maybe that way, your best friend would still be alive.”
Jesus! V thinks she is to blame for Kenny’s death?
She was spewing her guilt as if she had never told a soul. Poor Bryce must have been too clueless and young to be the one she would turn to. I quickly rolled, trapping her underneath me, which instantly set my body on fire, but I ignored my bad habit. “You listen up, V. You are not to blame for Kenny’s death. If anyone is, it’s me.” Startled, she started shaking her head, but I continued. “I should’ve chased my best friend and not been a pussy. Tell me you understand that there is nothing for me to forgive, that you had nothing to do with Kenny leaving us.”
“I—I can’t concentrate w—with you on top of me like this.” Her eyes closed as her body responded to mine, her hands grabbing at my hips, pulling me to her as her legs fell open.
Suddenly, there wasn’t enough air in the room. At least, that was how it felt as my heart desperately raced for her and I began to gyrate into her. “I’m struggling, too, but I’m not getting off you until you admit this and give me your word.”
Her eyes opened as she moaned.
“Tell me, V, or I’m removing your clothes and diving into the heaven between your legs.” My clothed dick rubbing against her was making me crazy.
“Tuck,” she groaned.
I had to taste her lips just once. I leaned down, but V quickly forced out, “I give you my word,” stopping me.
I had a raging hard-on but nodded, reluctantly rolling off Viola—the young woman who was all I wanted. We both lay on our backs, trying to catch our labored breath.
“We’re too good to cheat on him,” she whispered with regret.
“I hate Bryce.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Dump him.”
“Can’t. It would destroy him.”
Guys were dumped every day. How her breaking up with him would “destroy” Bryce baffled me, but I understood having unvoiced reasons for actions, and I let her have hers.
Viola stayed with me that weekend and helped me pull my shit back together. We never left the apartment; we just had food and drinks delivered, watched movies, and talked for hours. And I loved it as if I was part of some lifetime sappy girl club. So fucking embarrassing but true.
When it was time for her to go home, back to her boyfriend, I had to be a big boy and move on with my life. I buckled down and refocused my goals. Work and saving money took first priority… until I met a young girl named June.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Walking up a sidewalk to a restaurant with my party buddies, I heard a commotion and turned back to see what was going on. My friends stopped, also, when they heard the small Nissan truck screech up to the curb, and we watched as a man practically pushed a little beauty out of his passenger door. He was much older than her and a mean son of a bitch, too. “Get the fuck out, you tramp!”
All our stances changed, as if we were ready to pounce on this creep. We might have used girls and they might have used us, but to be so blatantly disrespectful was not going to fly.
The young woman was tiny and looked exhausted, wiping tears from dark circles under her eyes as she grabbed her apron from the front seat. Frail and frightened, she stood on the sidewalk with hunched, shaky shoulders and watched him pull away, screeching his tires once again. Silky auburn hair swayed in the wind as her green eyes looked at me, ashamed. I wanted to reach out and tell her she didn’t deserve to be spoken to like that, no matter what she had done, but her glance went to the ground in a flash as if she felt she wasn’t worthy of my time or stare.
I told myself I was just getting back on my feet—that the last thing I needed was a project—but my heart bled for this girl. And I wasn’t quite man enough to admit it at the time, but I was hoping to find a distraction from V. They were opposites. I wanted nothing that resembled Viola, who was a tall, blond, juicy and dominant woman. June was tiny, almost scrawny, and painfully timid.
My buddy held open the restaurant door for her as she walked past us, looking incurably sad. When she whispered a weak, “Thank you,” I was hooked. Her voice was shaky and… lonely. I was most likely just misconstruing my own loneliness, but I felt wounded by the whisper nonetheless.
Apparently, my face was an open book, because my buddy shut the door behind her, refusing to let me enter. “You have your choice of twenty girls tonight. Why are you eyeing damaged goods like that?”
That was just it! She was damaged goods… like me.
My friends—not totally on board—waited with me for her to get set up. Then we requested to be seated at one of her tables. When she walked up to our table, she blinked in surprise. “Oh God. I’m sorry you guys had to see that outside—”
I put my hand up, stopping her. “No, you have nothing to apologize for. Do you mind if I ask who that guy was?”
Another whisper that rocked my soul passed her ruby lips. “My stepdad.”
My friend mumbled, “Jesus.”
Another buddy tried to lighten the mood. “So, what’s your name, beautiful?”
She ignored the inquiry. “Can I get you guys something to drink?”
The scared waitress left to get our sweet teas, and I couldn’t help but turn in my seat and watch her walk away.
“Talk about your fixer-upper,” Larry crudely said.
I mean mugged his ass. “Don’t be a dick.”
Larry nonchalantly shrugged as if not surprised by my reaction. “Sorry, Tucker. Ease up. The charity case is all yours.”
Revenge was soon mine when a lovely girl greeted our table and started flirting with dickhead Larry. She was all googly eyed for him until I looked at my phone and inte
rrupted the exchange with, “Larry, your wife just texted, saying you’re not answering your cell. She wants you home now. The triplets have a fever.”
Poor Larry watched the hot blonde walk away in disgust. He smirked at me. “For the ‘charity case’ comment?” I nodded. He sat back in his chair, looking as if losing that tasty-looking dessert was leaving a sting. “Damn.”
Needless to say, I ate at that particular restaurant a lot, trying to get the girl with auburn hair to talk to me.
“Do you like working here?”
Just a minimal headshake was her answer.
My new friends harassed me, of course. “Time to go see your waitress?”
I mumbled replies like, “Don’t act like you don’t love their potato soup.” It was the best I could come up with.
“The soup is not what’s in question. You’re sitting in Hooters and have just stuffed twenty hot wings down your throat.” Larry pointed to my demolished plate. “But you’re off to eat again?”
I threw cash on the table and told him to fuck off. They all laughed and told me to enjoy my “soup” as I traded the establishment with sexy, long legs and scrumptious wings for a country diner with old patrons who passed gas on a regular basis.
The night my buddies joined me for soup and cobwebbed-ass air, we cheered all the way home because I had finally gotten the girl’s name. “Don’t worry, Tucker,” said Larry. “By this time next year, you should know if she has a boyfriend or not.”
“Fuck off, Larry, or I’ll cock block you again.”
Okay, so June and I were moving at a snail’s pace, but soon the tides changed, and I got lucky. I was without my fun-poking asshole friends when a wicked storm came rolling through town. I was sitting at June’s table as the whole restaurant lost power. She quickly approached to ask if I was okay. I lied, telling her I was afraid of the dark. Precious June grabbed my hand in a hurry and sat in the chair across from me at my table. “Oh no! I’m sorry. I won’t leave you. Okay?” There was such sincerity in her concern that I couldn’t in good conscience keep up the charade.
Steal Me (Haunted Roads Book 1) Page 24