Breaking Elle (52 page)

“You just need to sleep this shit off.” He smirks. “Your phone and wallet are on the table and your piece is in the top drawer. If you need anything, call me ASAP.” He slaps me on the back and heads towards the door.

“Just lock the door.” I groan, kicking my feet up on the lumpy bed. I close my eyes hoping for some sleep.

The phone ringing doesn’t startle me since all the alcohol I drank diminishes my senses and reflexes. It didn’t wake me either since my pounding head won’t let me go to sleep. The damn bed is more uncomfortable than usual, and the smell of the room is getting to me now. Celebrating and drinking tonight really did a number on me, and I’m painfully aware of how physically and mentally tired I am. I can’t be doing this shit anymore.

The phone keeps ringing, and I realize that it’s not my cell, but the room phone. Scanning the blurry numbers on the alarm, I think it’s past midnight. It can’t be more than a couple of hours since I left the bar. Why does it matter? It’s fucking late. I don’t feel like moving, and who the hell would be calling me from the front desk? I paid for my room in full when I checked in, and I don’t need a damn toothbrush or toothpaste. I fumble for the phone in the dark, knocking it off the cheap bedside table. “Fuck,” I mumble, groping around for it on the shaggy rug, not sure why the hell I am answering it in the first place except to make it stop ringing.

“Hello.” I croak. There’s nothing but silence. “Hello!” I grab my head in frustration, trying to contain the pounding in my head. “What the fuck.” I moan. Some idiot must have dialed the wrong number. I slam the phone back on the receiver and lean back on the bed. Holding my throbbing head between my hands, I try to drown out the people in the next room who are talking loudly and blasting their radio. Of all the fucking nights to have some rowdy, drunk ass kids right next door. Staggering to the bathroom, I splash cold water on my face, hoping that it will help me somehow. There’s a noise outside my door. Must be more asshole kids unable to handle their liquor.
Like I’m one to talk.

I peek through the heavy dusty drapes, watching as a guy and a couple girls make their way up the stairs and in my direction. They can’t be more than twenty and the guy is carrying a case of beer. My hope is that they aren’t rooming right next door, because if it gets any louder, there are going to be problems tonight.

Since sleep is eluding me, I grab my cell off the bedside table, scroll through my texts looking for Elle’s number, and as I stare at her picture on my screen, I wonder what she’s doing. I should be with her. I need to be with her, but she doesn’t deserve this. I’d be no better than Cane. I can’t hurt her, but I may already have.

The noise is getting louder next door, so I pound on the wall, letting them know that I’m pissed. Instead of stopping, they get louder and bolder and crank up the music. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. It’s my last night, and I should have stayed with my momma and JuJu before I leave tomorrow night. I sit on the edge of the bed and punch in Tommy’s number, putting the phone to my ear. I don’t even get a chance to hear if he answers. Out of nowhere, someone bursts through the door and grabs me from behind, wrapping his arms around my neck and across my forehead. I push off the bed, dropping the phone and trying to twist away, but someone else rushes me. The warm Texas breeze cuts through the room and the smell of gasoline floats in. All I see are his mud coated boots and dirty jeans that smell like he just finished picking up horseshit.

I grab the guy that’s got me from behind. His breath reeks of beer and cigarettes, and he smells like that cheap Stetson cologne. He grunts and hisses when I get up and throw him off my back. I should have been more prepared for this. I shouldn’t be so fucking drunk. It all happens so fast that I don’t have time to comprehend it. A fist connects with my jaw, sending me staggering me backwards. Rubbing my jaw, I recover slowly, stand, and try to focus my eyes in the darkness. I’ve never been scared of the dark but right now, I’m scared shitless. I don’t know if the asshole has a gun.

“What the fuck?” I’m trying to remember where Tommy said he put my gun when one of the guys grabs my arms, and pulls them behind my back while the other one throws a punch to my stomach. My instincts kick in. My blurry eyes adjust to the little bit of light that streams through the open door, and I’m trying to find the other guy so I can take a good kick at him. I can’t see his face, but I can sense his movements in front of me and hear his heavy labored breathing. He strikes me repeatedly in the face. I taste blood on my lip and my vision blurs in one eye from an open cut. I bend over, trying to protect myself from any more blows.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Hunter,” he growls. “Or I’m gonna have to bust that precious knee of yours.” He lands another punch, forcing to my knees. His laugh is so familiar, but I can’t place it. I know whom he works for, but it’s been so long since I’ve dealt with any of his people. Nobody calls me by
that
name either. It’s definitely someone I encountered in my college days. I bet all of the money I owe that somebody paid the kids next door a pretty penny to stage their little party so that these guys could slip into my room and ambush me. I fight back the alcohol that’s splashing in my gut. I’m already at a disadvantage being drunk and all, and I don’t think either one of these assholes would like me puking on them.

“What the fuck do you want from me?” I rasp, barely able to breathe. I know what they want. My mind can’t comprehend what’s going on even though I knew it was going to end up like this. He begins to kick me repeatedly, mumbling under his breath about the damn money. I tuck my body into itself to block the blows. One kick lands on my arm, and a shocking snap makes me cry out in pain. “Fuck.” I have nowhere to go; I can’t get up. There’s another kick to my side with an audible crack. I bite down on my lip, fighting the pain as it consumes my body, wishing for this shit to end or for someone to turn on the lights.

“You just had to fucking come back here.” He laughs. “Not a smart move.” I try to roll over to protect myself, but someone lands a kidney shot that has me grimacing in pain, unable to move my body anymore. “Do you know how many people hate your ass?” He chuckles. “It’s not just because you owe a lot of money. No, it’s because you’re a cocky son of a bitch, too.”

I’m in too much pain to answer him. I’ve prepared for this day for a long time, so we might as well just get this shit over with. I just wish I could have told Elle everything before I left her four days ago. I’m glad that I spent the time with her that I did and that I got to hear her voice the other day. My momma is going to be disappointed. I feel bad that Tommy has to be the one to tell her.

I feel the moldy rug on my face and someone gets in a nice kick to the gut for good measure. That right there cracked another rib. I can feel the pain shoot like a bullet up the right side of my body. I’m actually glad it’s just a kick and not an actual
bullet.
I clutch my broken arm to my stomach, hoping they are done. I don’t bother defending myself; my mind and body are too weak to connect anymore.

“Shit. They didn’t fucking tell me he would be this big.” One of the guys mumbles as he tries to pull me up from the floor. That’s the last thing I hear before my mind goes blank from the pain and the alcohol. The last image I see is of Elle right before I kissed her to get on the plane to come to this godforsaken place.

I had a dream a few weeks ago after I broke up with Cane that left me with an abandoned feeling that swept over me, buried me. And now, what I felt that night returns in huge waves, washing over me, pulling me under. The music pounding in my ears from my iPod doesn’t touch it, and can’t make it go away. The soft, warm rain pelting on my skin doesn’t comfort me. It only camouflages the tears that roll down my cheeks.

Was this the right thing for me to do? Leave Cane, only to jump into another relationship so suddenly? Reed’s always been more even before we got together; I couldn’t ignore this attraction even if I tried. I almost said the words the day he left. I don’t know why I didn’t. Am I afraid of being hurt again? Am I just like my mom, following the same path to unhappiness? But, I’m not unhappy. I’m just letting others destroy my happiness with their words, allowing them to control my emotions, to question the decisions that I know in my heart are right for me. I don’t understand why everyone wants to get involved and is so interested in my love life. It was never like this when I was with Cane. Why is everything so confusing? Maybe I am out of my mind, worrying about something that I shouldn’t be. I don’t even know why I’m crying or what the hell I’m trying to figure out anymore.

I keep wishing for something to happen, while missing what has already happened. My mind is swimming with a chaotic swarm of thoughts, none of which feels right or normal. I was happy this morning when I texted Reed. I was happy before that stupid conversation with my brother who has always had it out for Reed. I think I’ve been afraid to be myself most of my life, but with Reed, I don’t feel any of that fear. I am reckless. I let everything go with him. I want to take a risk, and I feel good doing it. Initially, I couldn’t see myself with Reed, but now, I feel like I want more with him. Knowing this, I believe that I was holding back with Cane in some ways, always staying within my comfort zone.

The track opens up in front of me, comforting me as the rain comes in sheets. I blindly run the track that I’ve memorized. The smooth movement of my body and the pounding of my feet on the wet pavement console me. I’ve always had this connection, the constant rhythm and movement, so consistent and fluid, nothing like my life has been over the last couple of months.

This lost feeling instantly comes over me. The track is not enough to drown it out. The tears that haven’t stopped come harder and stronger as I crumble onto the track. The steady rain continues to fall, chasing away my salty tears. I feel like everyone knows what I’m thinking and feeling, and I don’t like it. I don’t like being an open book. I never intended for this to happen.

“Elle!” I’m startled but relieved by the sound of Cane’s voice, and the memories of what we shared only create more tears. I swallow back the lump in my throat, and when I raise my head, I see him, the rain dampening his tousled blonde hair and droplets dripping down his handsome face. His jeans and white t-shirt are completely soaked and sticking to his body. Over the past couple of months, I’ve been rescued by others. That’s what I wished for in the beginning. Now, I just want to be alone. Seeing him here confuses me even more.

Is there such a thing as a love square?

I know I will always love Cane.

With a soft smile, he kneels and checks on me. His touch is familiar, warm and his eyes are bottomless, churning with intensity. I know that look and it hurts me so much to see him. Those eyes that could see into my soul and those lips that I’ve tasted and felt are gone.

“Baby, you okay?” He asks as he drops his chin, looking up hesitantly. I raise my eyes to him, somewhat touched that he’d still call me that. “Sorry. I’m so used to calling you that.” I know how he feels as I brush his hair from his eyes. I place my hand over his, squinting back the tears, as the rain falls in front of me.

“It’s okay.” I smile weakly, trying to keep it together in front of him.

“Just really hard to see you like this and not want to protect you.” A look of anguish crosses his face. I squeeze his hand, letting him know that I’ve forgiven him for what happened, but I know that’s not enough for him. He knows he let me down; he let
us
down. He quietly stands up and takes off his shirt, laying it out on the wet grass. Seeing him this way reminds me how we connected both physically and emotionally. I look away, trying to swallow the sob in my throat. Why is this so hard for me?

“I know it’s not much.” He laughs, slowly raising his face to the rain; his arms fall to his sides, palms up, welcoming the rain. “But I’ve always been a gentleman.” Shaking my head, I laugh softly, knowing that his shirt will be just as wet as what I’m wearing. He picks me up from the track and carrying me over to the grass, sets me down on his t-shirt, and then sits next to me. I don’t even feel the rain anymore. All I can feel is his presence, his warmth.
Did I give up on us too soon? Or was it he who gave up?