Casting Stones (Stones Duet #1) (25 page)

I remember wanting to stay in one place for a whole school year. I remember always being the new kid in school. I didn’t care if rodents were my roommates and the place was run down and disgusting. Four walls for an extended period of time were better than nothing. Each time Maxine showed up at my door, I cried because I didn’t want to leave. The young social worker couldn’t hide the sadness behind her smile each time I had to say goodbye to my mother. The tears I shed became few and far between when I was finally old enough to realize being removed from my home was for my own good. Sometimes little girls shouldn’t be taken away from their mothers; sometimes, they should.

“But I can’t protect you if you’re not near me. And judging by the evidence on your face, it’s not safe for you to stay with your
mother
.” I don’t miss the venom that spews when he says the last word.

Deep down I know he’s right. I’m a twenty-six-year-old taking care of my forty-three-year-old-mother who needs to live with the choices she’s made, but a part of me feels responsible and even a bit guilty. She is my mother after all. Isn’t that what unconditional love does? Doesn’t unconditional love stick by even when it shouldn’t? Doesn’t unconditional love continue love despite everything else?

Just as my lips move to say “no,” he interjects. “At least for a few days. Maybe more.” He grins at me. “I’m a little lonely at my place. I miss you when you’re not with me.”

“But I—”

“No, buts. I won’t take no for an answer.” Shane shakes his head adamantly, his lips tight. “Not about this.”

He’s absolutely serious and I find myself smiling at the idea of surrendering control for a little bit.

I open my mouth again to speak, but he quickly presses his long finger against my lips to silence me, being careful to avoid the swollen area. “There are two rooms. You don’t have to sleep in my room…unless you want to.”

I reach up and wrap my small hand around his wrist, my fingertips barely touching each other, and pull his hand away from my mouth. Instinctively, I lean forward and move to kiss him. It’s a gentle kiss, expressing my silent words of gratitude. A kiss that conveys the promising words I cannot say.

“You are very important to me.”

My eyes sparkle with delight at his simple words.

“I really like you,” he mumbles against my flat lips.

“I really like you, too.” I grin back because I find his words endearing. They remind me of the first boy I ever liked in the third grade. I wrote him a note, telling him that I thought he was cute. His response was harsh and brutal. It didn’t really matter. Maxine showed up at my door a week later, took me away and I never saw him again. I don’t really remember what he looked like, but his words will always remain.

“Where’d you just go?” Shane whispers against my forehead, kissing it softly.

I blink open my eyes and look at him. “Your words brought me back to when I was about eight years-old.”

“Why’s that?”

“It was the first time I had a crush on a boy and I wrote him a note.” I smile sadly for the little girl I once was.

“What did it say?”

“I told him I liked him.” My chin drops to my chest, embarrassed for the little girl who still lives deep in me.

“And what did he say back?”

I inhale sharply and look up even though I want to run and hide. “He said I was ugly and dirty.”

It’s Shane’s turn to inhale deeply and exhale with a sympathetic sigh. “Boys are assholes.”

I smile in agreement and shrug my shoulders.

“For the record, you’re beautiful, sexy and delicious.” With each word, he pecks my necks and licks where his lips have just brushed with a light kiss. “You have no idea how many men can’t take their eyes off you at the diner. They watch your every move.”

I roll my eyes and snort, “No one at the diner looks at me that way.”

His raised eyebrows and wide eyes dare me to challenge him. “One of these days, I’m going to get into a fight if those bastards don’t keep their eyes off you.”

A tight smile slips across my face.

“You’re
my
girl. For
my
eyes only.”

Warmth fills my heart as I repeat his words.

“Have you eaten anything since breakfast?” He shifts my body so I’m tucked in the crook of his arm with my face against his rising chest. I inhale deeply and take in his scent, a combination of cologne and soap. I release a slow breath, thinking about how Shane is the second man to ever hold me like this. I feel safe. I feel
loved
.

He kisses the top of my head after skimming his nose along my damp hair. He whispers my name softly as he squeezes me gently, securing me to his body.

“You smell good.” I admit, knowing I’ve most likely been caught stealing a whiff of him. I look up to see blue eyes sparkle with humor.

“So do you.”

I turn inward to conceal my giggle. We’re acting like a couple of normal kids and it feels so good. There weren’t many good things about my early years; sex, drugs and clubs didn’t exactly make for a normal All-American childhood.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“What question?” I tilt my head with curiosity.

“Did you eat?” He adjusts his body so he can reach for his cell phone when it rings with a ringtone that sounds oddly familiar. The sound is silenced with a quick swipe of his finger across the screen.

“No,” I shake my head. “I came here right after I saw-” I freeze. Shane doesn’t need to know exactly what I saw. He doesn’t need a play by play of the scene that runs through my mind like an old black and white movie.

“Let’s get something to eat.”

I don’t really feel like going out. I’m not ready to face what’s outside the walls of Jenna’s apartment. “Do you mind if we just stay here?”

“You need to eat.”

I roll my eyes, “I’m sure Jenna has food here. She won’t mind.” I release my hold on him, walk into the small kitchen and open the refrigerator. On the top shelf wrapped in plastic bags are old deli meats and moldy cheese. I grab a key lime yogurt, but it’s half eaten with a spoon sticking out of the foil wrapper. The only edible item is an almost empty gallon of chocolate milk. I hold it up and offer it to Shane as if it were a delicacy. “Chocolate milk?” I flip off the lid and bring the container to my nose because it looks a little thicker than normal. My stomach rolls at the stench. “Ughh…it smells awful. I think it’s just a little spoiled.” I pour the rest down the sink.

The grin that spreads across his face is a knowing one. “That must’ve been Collin’s.”

“Collin?” I ask, my eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“He left the same gallon at my place a while ago. That’s all he drinks. Well, besides beer of course.” I love the easy laugh that escapes through his lips.

“I guess we’re going out then.” I rinse out the container and leave it on the counter.

The ringing starts once again. Shane rolls his eyes and mumbles, “She’s relentless.” Inexplicable jealousy grows within me, wondering who is
relentlessly
calling him. Through the ringing I try hard to place the familiar tune. I have a vague memory of sitting on David’s couch in my pajamas eating popcorn from a plastic bowl. It was our thing on Friday nights.

“Hey, sis. What’s up?”

Oh thank God, it’s his sister! Relief expels in the form of a huge sigh as I mouth that I’m going to get ready. I step into the bathroom to reapply more concealer to hide my bruise. If my hair were still long and wavy, I wouldn’t have to worry about anything. A blanket of blond hair would shield my face. But as it turns out, my thick hair wouldn’t stay in place so cutting it was my only option. I knew it was stupid of me to be upset over chopping my hair off, but it was the only thing that separated me from my mother. She gave me two things: her eyes and her big curvy ass.

Shane’s face appears in the doorway as he leans against the framing, watching me dot lip gloss across my lips. One of the lights above the medicine cabinet flickers before dying out with a faded “pop.” I catch his eye in the mirror and immediately notice his expression changes from easy going to murderous. I swallow hard, suddenly feeling nervous.

“Shane?”

“If I find out who did this to you, I will kill him.” His words are ice cold as are his blue eyes. A chill runs through me at the thought of him being hurt or getting into a fight on my behalf. I stare at his reflection in the mirror. I’m not sure I like this disposition I’ve seen several times now. First at the sushi restaurant, in his truck and again right now. It’s a bit worrisome that he’s got these two very different personalities. I don’t think he would ever harm me, but the fact that he can switch from one to the other is a little scary.

After a moment or two, he blinks rapidly as if he’s returning from a faraway place, his expression softening once again.

“You okay?” I ask, turning around to face him.

He either doesn’t hear me or isn’t okay because he turns and abruptly walks away.

I cap up the concealer and put it away. When I enter the living room, he’s sitting on the couch with his face buried in the palms of his hands. His shoulders are rounded and bent, revealing the hard muscle of his back. His rigid posture is one of…defeat.

“Shane, what’s wrong?” I sit on the coffee table across from him. Something in me is compelled to comfort him. I raise my hand to comfort him but change my mind.

“I’m good. I just need a minute.” He pants through a whisper as he continues to breathe in and out slowly.

“If you’re worried about my face, it’s fine. It’s not a big deal.”

His head snaps up and he sears me with wide blue eyes. “Not a big deal? Somebody hurt you. Somebody put his hands on you. It’s a big fucking deal!”

I wince at the fierceness of his tone because I don’t understand what’s happening. One second he’s calm and then next he’s practically screaming at me.

“Maybe you should leave,” I stand as my own anger boils deep within me. I have had enough crap for one day.

“Remy, please,” I hear regret in the way he breathes my name before he adds, “I’m sorry.”

“You seem to be saying that a lot lately.”

He reaches out, wraps his hand around mine and gives a gentle tug, pulling me back into a sitting position. I look at our joined hands and notice he’s trembling like a leaf. I’ve been nervous before. I’ve been scared before. But something tells me this quivering is much more.

“Why are your hands shaking? Tell me what’s wrong.” With my free hand, I cup his face and run my thumb along his cheek. “You can trust me, Shane.”

I can almost see the war he rages internally. Fear, doubt, trust, and insecurity pour out from his gaze.

“I’m fine. They’re just tremors.”

“How often do they happen?” I whisper.

“Not very often.”

“What triggers them?” I ask, knowing I’m treading on very thin ice.

“I don’t have triggers. My hands shake every now and then. Like I said, I’m fine.” My hand falls dejectedly when he lets go, walks into the kitchen. I watch him reach into his pocket and pull out his phone. He leans over and takes a drink of water from the running faucet before tipping his head back. From side to side, he angles his neck to crack it. He gathers his phone and turns around.

“Remy, please don’t worry.” The smile on his face seems genuine as his happy demeanor returns. “You don’t need to worry. I am fine,” he enunciates each word slowly and clearly. If he thinks this conversation is over, he is dead wrong.

“Are you ready to go?” he sighs as he grab a few mints from the small bowl on the coffee table.

I simply nod as I take his outstretched, steady hand. Our eyes meet and silently I beg for understanding, but my eyes reveal the pity I feel for him. I don’t know what’s wrong, but I know when someone’s got demons they’re fighting. I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that Shane is battling demons of his own. I flip our joined hands over, ready to question the stillness, but the millions of questions I want to ask are lodged in my throat. I want to beg him to open up and tell me, but he will tell me whatever it is when he’s ready.

Shane

I walk silently with Remy by my side, guilt riddling through me for lying to her. I know she wants to ask me what the hell just happened and I wish I could tell her. I wish I knew exactly what the hell happened. What I do know is the tremors are happening more frequently and at all different times of the day without the usual triggers. The vivid memories. The bright lights. The piercing sound.I’ve always hated the stares by onlookers when these episodes begin, sending me into uncontrollable and unexplainable anger which usually ends in violence. I’m ashamed that my mother and sister have witnessed this on several occasions; the last being when Mia and I broke up and she refused to talk to me for weeks on end.

Suppressing the rise of anxiety from deep within, I inhale and exhale slowly and glance at Remy from the corner of my eye. A small wave of calm spreads throughout my body. I notice she seems more relaxed and more at ease than she did earlier tonight. The bruise on her cheek doesn’t look so bad with makeup over it, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s there. Someone hurt her. Someone left a mark on her perfect skin. Someone will pay.