Blind Love (Sulfur Heights Series) (36 page)

I drove all this way. Two fucking hours to confess my heart, only for her to tell me she had sex with me out of pity, not love. That she’s never loved me the same in return. I love her. God knows I do, but I’m a goddamn idiot for allowing anything to grow between us. I was so sure when we met she would end up hating me by the time it was over, but I was sorely mistaken. She doesn’t hate me. I hate me. I hate what I’ve become and it has all been unconsciously done for her. Fucking goddamn bitch!

I slam the Challenger in gear and peel away from the hotel
, swearing on my life that I will never do that again. I will never fall victim to another girl as long as I live. I have been wrong when I thought what Drake and Presley had was perfect; it’s the worst fucking thing a guy can do to himself. Nothing like this is worth experiencing when the end result is torturous pain. Although Reggie and Darcie are married and I know he’s a love sick wimp, I don’t ever want to be in his shoes. If the day comes that Darcie up and leaves him or worse, he will be a fucking wreck. He will be like Drake or myself.

I’m tired as hell, but I keep the car floored. I need to get to Sulfur Heights as soon as possible. Whiskey and sluts will take all this fucking agony away.
They’re what worked in the past and that’s what will work now.

The sun is just starting to rise in the distance
, making the sky look peaceful and filled with hope. I used to look at the sunrise, completely captivated by the colors pouring over the horizon, knowing someday there will be a better life for me, and now, I know it has been a stupid, childish fantasy. Nothing will be better in my life. I should have learned my lesson from my mother that once something nice starts to come my way, life is a complete bitch and yanks it all back. Every fucking time.

When
I finally make it into Sulfur Heights two hours later, the sun is blinding me when I pull into the driveway and slam the car into park. Jeremy walks from the garage, a look of sadness masking his face, and it heightens the sickening feeling already present in my body.

He meets me at the driver’s door
, holding his hand out for the keys. “I need to go.”

“Where are you going? It’s nine o’clock in the morning?” I
ask, not sure I really want to know what he’s actually doing. Ever since Presley died, Jeremy has been acting strange and I don’t know what to make of it or how to help him. He’s done something bad, life altering, and I fear I’m so close to losing my brother and best friend.

“I’ve got some things I need to take care of.” Jeremy hops in the Challenger and takes off down the drive.

My mind is plagued with thoughts of losing him. My gut tells me he’s done something to Carter, but it’s telling me he’s done something to the family as well; something that will be nearly impossible to forgive.

Over the years,
us Evans boys have done some pretty messed up stuff. So, when I think of what Jeremy could have possibly done that would tear our family apar
t—
God, the very thought makes me sick.

I walk up the back steps and into the kitchen. I’m dead tired, but don’t want to sleep, not yet. Too much is raging inside of me right now and it needs to be gone. I open the cupboard above the sink and find the bottles of liquor. Whiskey, my go to numbing solution, is gone
, however I find a bottle of brandy tucked in the back corner. I honestly have no idea how long it’s been there, but liquor gets better with age, I think.

The metal cap unscrews easily
. I toss it onto the counter and tip my head back. The brandy burns its way down, nearly taking my breath with it as I chug the liquid down my throat. I don’t want to feel anymore. I want every feeling of loss, pain and suffering to vanish. I suck more liquid from the bottle.

It doesn’t take long for my head to spin and my body to numb. I manage to make my way down to my room and that’s when a reminder of the last twelve hours comes slamming back into my face. The sheets are rumpled and the air smells of lavender. Delilah is everywhere in my room and in my mind, but she’s nowhere close to me. The very thought enrages me.

I pull out my cell phone and the screen lights up. It’s her. So beautiful and sexy and she’s not mine, not anymore. In less than two months she will belong to Emerson and have the lifestyle she deserves. A lifestyle I would never be able to give her. I squeeze my cell phone tightly in my hand, making it throb with pain before throwing it toward the wall. Plastic shatters and flies through the air then lands haphazardly on the floor.

Taking another long drink of brandy, I turn my rage to my bed
, the last place Delilah has been and the place I thought she wanted to be. I yank the sheets and blankets from my bed, violently tossing them to the floor and start to wail on my mattress, punching the bed over and over and over. I need to get her out of my mind. I need things to go back to the way they were before she came into my life. It all needs to be simple again.

When women
were a matter of want, not need.

I toss a pillow across the room. I’m ready to take my anger out on anything in my path when the closet door slightly opens and the light hits the back of the door, reminding me she’s still here. She’s still present everywhere I turn.

Stomping over to the door, I jerk it open and see the visual reminder of my dismantled state. I see the woman I have been ready to change for, a person I would die for, and she’s staring back at me. The long strands of her blonde hair, her radiant smile and ocean blue eyes break me down and even the brandy can’t put me back together. Not right now.

I fall to the floor, slamming my knees into the carpet, and I scream. Bloody and rage-filled
, the anger dives out of my mouth. I need to release my anger—release my hurt. I start punching the floor. One blow after the other, I slam my fists into the floor, trying to pound away every last bit of hurt. When the cuts on my hand bust open, blood is dripping from my skin and staining the carpet, but I don’t care. I keep taking my anger out on the floor, shedding every last bit of pain.

I focus once again
on the pictures on the back of the door. One by one, I start pulling them off, tearing the glossy paper in half as I throw them behind me. The floor is covered in torn pictures, sheets and blood.

There’s one more memory still left to destroy, the picture of Delilah and I at the lake. The night everything changed for me. The night I let this woman move herself into my life and like a stupid bastard, I fell unconsciously into her web.

I hold the picture frame in my hand. The metal is cool against my hot, angry skin. I swipe my finger over her face, remembering how happy I was that night.

The night
had truly been perfect. She’d had a smile so big you could have seen it for miles and her well-trained beauty queen façade had been gone, replaced by complete happiness.

Until the fight in her hotel room, every night since the night at the lake I’ve been happy. And it’s all from Delilah and me declaring our friendship that summer night.

Blood from my torn up hand drips onto her face. I run my finger over it, streaking it across the glass when another bout of pain rips through my chest. I squeeze the frame tightly, let out another guttural scream and then throw it against the wall—splintering the glass and shattering the future I’ve been so sure we’d have.

“Damn you, Delilah
,” I whisper to no one as I allow a solitary tear drop from my eye.

Brandy bottle in hand, I pick
myself up and make my way upstairs, numbing my pain one gulp at a time.

Delilah

Pulling into the driveway at my Memphis home makes the tears I’ve been holding for the last ten hours finally spill over my cheeks. I’m a horrible person. Hours ago I destroyed a life so valuable to me because he’s not what I need or should have in my life. Jake Evans stampeded his way into my heart with his
ever-present smirk and crass attitude.

Now, as I reflect on the last time I will ever see Jake
, my heart breaks and breaks because I will never have that tattooed lunatic in my life anymore. Even if I cut my losses with Emerson and my family, Jake will never forgive me. He will never believe I really made love to him because he is the love I’ve been waiting for, and he shouldn’t. Jake should never allow me back into his life. The only thing I’ve ever proved is that I’m just like every woman he’s ever had in his life—disappointing and worthless.

Emerson is waiting for me in the foyer when I walk through the door. His blue eyes twinkle slightly until he gets a good look at me. My hair is disheveled and falling all over the place, eyes burning red, and my arm still has blood on it from Jake’s hand.

Emerson walks to me, snatching my arm up in his hand and asks, “What the hell happened?”

“Jake…” I sputter, unable to get the words out of my mouth.

“Did he hurt you?” Emerson’s voice booms against the walls in the foyer, causing me to startle.

“God
, no! He would never do that.” I jerk my arm out of Emerson’s hold, not wanting to get the Knox interrogation. I just want to take a shower, wrap myself in my comforter and then drift off to sleep.

“Look, I’m sorry about the other day. I shouldn’t have gotten angry with you about going to Presley’s funeral. I know how much you cared for her.” Emerson walks to my side and wraps his tan arm around me.

Guilt rolls over me. Guilt because I gave my heart to someone else and yet I’m still promised to be his wife. Guilt because I slept with Jake, gave him my virginity; something Emerson was so sure belonged to him and now it’s gone. Just like Jake—gone forever.

“It’s okay. I just want to take a shower and sleep. The last few days have been a nightmare.”

“It’s done then?” His fatherly tone appears, angering me the moment it connects with my eardrums. “You said your goodbyes to Sulfur Heights?”

“Yes
,” I whisper and release more tears.

“Where did the blood come from?” He lifts my arm, holding it up to my line of sight.

“Jake didn’t take my breaking off our friendship very well. He punched the wall until his hands bled and I guess it got on me.”

I look at my arm and remember how angry and hurt he was, how broken his eyes were when I told him I wasn’t in love with him.

“I’m going to shower now.”

I make my way upstairs, dragging my suitcase behind me
, which thumps against each step as it connects with the wood. The hollow sound in the stairway matches the hollowness inside my chest. Now I need to learn how to live without Jake in my life. The person he’s resurrected will be dormant as I continue to live my life as the Delilah I have been raised to be.

Chapter 27

Jake

Two long fucking weeks have gone by and I’ve spent every day for the last two weeks planted
on a bar stool, drinking whiskey—numbing the pain. Darcie passes me fresh drinks as I empty my glass, knowing I won’t talk about my issues, but she knows full well I have one. She’s never been one to pry and this is probably why Delilah has been able to get so much out of me. She’s had a way of prying and wedging her way in my life until I spilled my guts and exposed my dark feelings.

Today is no different than any other day. I drink and play pool. The bar is booming on a Friday night and I’m on the prowl to find a girl to
bury myself in and clear my mind of Delilah for good. There’s a lot of women to choose from, but not a single one even comes close to the girl I’m craving.

It pisses me off how much I think about her regardless of my inebriated state. Delilah scarred women for me. She scarred everything for me. All I think about day and night is her and the fact
that she rejected me. God, she’s a damn bitch. A bitch that I fucking love. Jesus Christ, now I’m thinking like a pussy. I sink my head closer to the bar until another shot of liquor appears in front of me. I wink to Darcie and then slam it down, enjoying the burn.

Again, I look at all the beauties in the bar, some of whom I’ve fucked already and it does nothing for me. Not a single one of them. Until, through the sea of people, fiery red hair grabs my attention. Awe
, my little redhead. Her timing is perfect as usual, especially now when I need to take a ride on the freaky side. She’s always been able to get my attention, and tonight, I think she will be the needed distraction I’ve been looking for to erase the last bit of Delilah from my brain.

Wasting no time, I abandon my barstool and meet her in the middle of the room. Her brown eyes glimmer as she licks her lips. She knows what I like and is not afraid to show me what she’s willing to do. I snatch the redhead’s hand in mine and pull her to the back room, locking the door behind me.

“Where’ve you been, Jake? I missed you.” She seduces as she removes her shirt, exposing her small breasts. The redhead teases and tugs on her nipples, instantly getting me hard and ready to fuck.

I have no desire to learn her name because all she will ever be is another way to pass the time. She’s proud to be a dirty, fucking slut and I love it.
Dammit, she’s exactly what I need right now—a hardcore tramp.

“That’s none of your fucking business. Now get on your knees and suck my dick.” I’ve never had to sugarcoat anything with her. She’s a freak and loves it when I demand my wants. She’s always been willing to let me do anything to her and of course the only woman I’ve ever been with who’s excited to have her friend along for the ride.