My Favorite Mistake (31 page)

Read My Favorite Mistake Online

Authors: Chelsea M. Cameron

“Can I get you something?” he said. How about a gun? I’d feel a lot better if I had one. Why oh why hadn’t I gone to the shooting range yet? “Taylor?” 

“What?”

“Can I get you anything?” he repeated.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Why don’t you just leave me alone?” I snapped.

“Maybe if you would tell me what has got you like this, I will. Until then, I’m watching you like a hawk.” I didn’t like his intense watching but I also didn’t want to be alone. So I was fifty-fifty on having him there.

“I’m fine.”

“Sure.” He got up to take my bowl, and I flinched away from him.

“Aw, Miss. I wish you’d tell me.”

I shook my head, clamping my lips shut.

“You stubborn, stubborn girl.” He took our dishes to the sink and started washing them, humming the dishes song he’d written. I tried to keep my eyes glued to the movie.

I had a habit of getting really cold when I was freaking out and I started shivering uncontrollably, my teeth chattering. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to keep myself from flying into a million pieces. I’d thought this was over. I never saw the day that he would get out actually coming, but maybe they wouldn’t let him out. Maybe they’d send him back to prison to serve the rest of his time.

But I’d still have to see him. That was what scared me more than anything. That was the thing that I didn’t want to tell anyone. For all my anger and confidence, I was really just a scared twelve-year-old girl inside.

“Here,” Hunter said, coming behind me and putting a blanket over me.

“Don’t touch me.”

“I’m just tucking a blanket in. Get a grip.”

“I said, don’t touch me.”

He came around front, ignoring me and trying to get the blanket all around me.

“Stop it!” I thrashed, but he wouldn’t let go of me. He tried to pick me up, but I was ready for him, landing punches and kicks right and left. His face was blank. Somehow he got me to my feet, and the blanket fell away.  

It was like I’d unleashed something dark and violent that had been stirring inside me since that night eight years ago.

“Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!” I pounded on his chest. I slapped his face and I kicked him. I kept going until my lungs were heaving and my arms were sore and a strangled sob had escaped my mouth.

He stood with his arms at his sides. His face was red from me slapping him.

My knees caved, and he caught me before I went down, picking me up and putting me on the couch.

“Don’t touch me.”

He didn’t answer, but wrapped his arms around me as I started sobbing. I never cried, but there I was, salty tears streaming down my face, being held by Hunter, the guy I’d just beat the shit out of. 

He rocked me, his strong arms encircling me tightly. 

He started humming, but I was too wrecked to recognize the tune. 

My throat hurt from crying, and my tears were dripping everywhere, but I didn’t care.

I started hyperventilating, and Hunter had to tell me to breathe slowly so I wouldn’t pass out. That had happened before, but he didn’t know that. I’d had episodes like this before, only those times it was Mom and Tawny taking care of me.

Hunter waited until I had mostly cried myself out and was just sniffing. Luckily, he had a spare napkin and I blew my nose.

“Are you okay?” I said.

“That’s my line.”

“I’m sorry for beating you up.”

“It’s okay. You needed to get it out.”

“I haven’t done that in a long time.” I felt his lips on my temple.

“You scared me,” he said.

“Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I’ll be fine.”

“But I won’t.”

He inhaled slowly. “When my parents died, I used to have these freak outs were I’d go nuts and break everything I could. My mother had this collection of crystal animals that was worth thousands of dollars. I smashed every single one. Joe was furious, but what could he do? They ended up taking everything breakable out of the house and moving me to Hope and John’s as soon as possible. They Hunter-proofed the house, but I still found things to break.”

It was my turn.

“They used to have to restrain me so I wouldn’t hurt myself. My mom didn’t have a straitjacket, but she and Tawny used to hold me down,” I said. There was a pause and he started stroking my hair. I settled against his chest. His arms were like cables, holding me in one place. I wasn’t shivering anymore.

I took a deep breath.

“Tawny was supposed to be babysitting. That was before my parents split up, so they were out on a date night. I was twelve, but they didn’t want me staying alone at night for some reason. I can’t remember why. The rule was that she wasn’t supposed to have anyone over, but she invited her boyfriend, Travis, to hang out.” Saying his name was like running razor blades over my tongue, but I had to do this.

“She’d only been dating him for a few weeks, and my parents didn’t like him. It wasn’t that he had a motorcycle or he got in trouble or any of that. He just rubbed them the wrong way, especially my mom. He was older and he had a temper, but he kept it in check most of the time. He was pissed about something that night. Once again, I don’t remember what. Tawny was different around him. When it was just us, we’d do movies and have fun, but when Travis was over, she’d make me go to bed so they could make out on the couch. I got mad at her that night about sending me to bed early, but she yelled at me and Travis backed her up, so I had no choice.”

I took another deep breath. Hunter kept stroking my hair.

“As I was walking back to my bedroom, I saw something sparkly on the floor. It was one of my mother’s peacock earrings. Tawny had borrowed them without asking, and I knew she was wearing one. The other must have fallen out. I was jealous, because I’d never been allowed to wear them, so I went to my room and put it on. I stayed up reading for a while, but then I heard a noise. I got up, and I heard it again. Then there was a scream.”

Hunter’s arms tightened around me, and I gripped onto his shirt.

“I went back to Tawny’s bedroom, and she was screaming while I heard a slapping noise and Travis telling her to shut up. She screamed some more and then I heard him punch her. She was pleading with him. I didn’t know what to do. The door was cracked just a little, and I looked in. He was on top of her and her shirt was torn. He was unzipping his pants and telling her that he’d waited long enough. She was crying and struggling to get out from under him. He slapped her again, and her head flew to the side. We locked eyes and she whispered something. Travis saw her looking, and I couldn’t close the door fast enough.”

I started shaking again, but Hunter wasn’t going to let me go.

“He chased me down the hall and grabbed me. He screamed at me for interrupting them and then said that maybe I wanted some, too. He started ripping at my pants, and I couldn’t breathe because he was so heavy and he was on top of me, and I thought I was going to die. He ripped at my shirt and scratched my chest. I was only wearing leggings, so he tore those and my underwear and went for his pants again, telling me if I ever told anyone about any of it, he’d come and find me and kill me. I prayed for someone to save me and that was when Tawny hit him as hard as she could with her softball bat that she kept under her bed. He collapsed on me, and Tawny had to roll him off. We tied him up with a couple of my jump ropes and some tape and called the police. 

There was a trial. He was convicted and got ten years. He’s supposed to be in for two more, but Tawny called and said he’s up for parole.”

I sniffed again, and he handed me the napkin.

“So there. Now you know. The only other person I’ve ever told was Megan. Everyone in my town knew about it. I got labeled a whore in school, and when I started getting angry and fighting, no one wanted anything to do with me. I made a pact with myself that I would never date, never have a boyfriend. I’d be alone, because the only person I can trust is me. Everyone will let you down. I’d never told Tawny that, but she apologized for years. I think she’s still apologizing, even though she was a victim, too. My parents felt so guilty about leaving that they broke up. I mean, that wasn’t the entire reason, but it had a lot to do with it. Everything just kind of fell apart after that one night. And now you know why I have the peacock obsession. Tawny was wearing one earring and I was wearing the other. Those earrings saved our lives.”

Hunter thought for a moment, and I could almost hear him trying to pick the right words. 

“I wish I could kill him in the most slow, painful way possible,” he said.

“Me too.” I’d imagined it more times than I would ever admit.

“Thank you for telling me.”

“Now you know why I’m so fucked up.”

“You’re not, that’s the thing. You’ve been through something most people can’t imagine. Don’t be ashamed of the way that you cope with it.”

“I’m not coping with it, according to my therapists. There have been many.”

“Fuck them. If breaking things and punching people every now and then helps you, I’ll be your punching bag and we can get you some stuff to throw off the roof. Deal?”

“Okay.”

“So he’s up for parole?”

“Yeah, there’s a hearing. My lawyer called.”

“But you get to go to it, right? Make a statement?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay then. We’ll just have to get you ready to make a really good statement.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I can’t face him again.” Harder even than telling him the story was telling him that. That I was a coward.

“Yes, you can. You just don’t think you can. There’s a difference.”

“But I couldn’t face him then. He was raping my sister, and I did nothing. I could have gotten the phone; I could have run in and hit him with something. I could have done something,” I said.

“You were a child.”

I tried to shake my head, but he wouldn’t let me. 

“I should have done something.”

“I let my father shoot my mother and then himself. If anyone should have done something, it’s me.”

“He had a gun.”

“He had your sister.”

“It’s not the same.”

He sighed. “Taylor, we can what if ourselves to death, but it won’t do anything. The only thing we can do is keep moving, even when it feels like you’re walking through a pit of cement.”

“With cinderblocks on your shoulders.”

“Exactly.”

“The only difference is that your demon has a human form.” His hand traveled up and down my arm in a soothing motion.

“I’m still sorry I beat you,” I said, touching his perfect face.

“How’s my face looking?”

 I glanced up. He was going to look quite pretty tomorrow. 

“A little battered.”

“That’s okay. I’ll just tell everyone I was in a bar fight.”

“What, you’re ashamed to say you were hit by a girl?”

“No, but I’m worried you’ll get hauled in for domestic violence,” he said with a smile.

“Okay, fine.”

“Feel better?”

“I guess. I’ll let you know.”

“It’s okay to be scared.”

“I hate being scared.”

“I know. But you don’t have to be scared of him. He’s locked up right now, and you’re not alone. I want you to remember that. You. Are. Not. Alone.”

“I’ve always been alone. Old habits die hard.”

“Yes, they do.” He laughed a little. “Are you tired?”

“Not really.”

“Then do you mind if I just hold you like this? It’s very nice.”

“Yes, it is.” I shifted so I could wrap my legs with his, like we had that night we’d spent together.

“Well, that’s even nicer.”

“Hunter.”

“Sorry, Miss.”

“Every time I think about being physical with someone, all I can remember are his hands and his face above mine, and not being able to breathe. I know I shouldn’t associate those things, but I do and I can’t seem to change it. Every time I think about sex, that’s what I think about. That’s why I’ve never been with anyone. Well, part of the reason. I just never met anyone who I’d wanted to even attempt it with.”

“Until me? Please say until me.”

“Until you.” I reached up and touched a spot that was starting to turn purple on his cheek. “But I’m a freak. You wouldn’t want me.”

“I don’t want anyone but you.”

“You’re just going to have to be patient with me,” I said, tracing his face with one finger. He grabbed my hand and kissed it.

“I’ll do my best. Not making any promises.”

“How about this?” I said, having an idea. “We have a word that I can say if I start freaking out.”

“Like a safe word? Baby, you’ve been reading too many sketchy romance novels, haven’t you? I saw them on your e-reader.”

“Whatever. Okay, so what should my safe word be?”

“How about stop?”

“Boring.” I went through a bunch of words. 

“Mistake,” Hunter said, smiling.

“Perfect.” He held my hand in front of his face, turning it back and forth, as if he was fascinated.

“You have such tiny hands,” he said.

“Uh, thank you?”

“They’re cute and feminine. I like them.”

“I think I’ll keep them. I don’t have my receipt for the hand store so I can’t trade them in.”

 He laughed, his chest moving under me in a wonderful way. He stared down at me and smiled, bringing my hand to his lips. He kissed each of my fingers and then the back of my hand. He turned my palm over and kissed that. He took his time, as if waiting for me to say the safe word. I didn’t.

Hunter kissed down my arm, all the way into the inside of my elbow, which was surprisingly sensitive. He waited before putting one hand under my chin and tipping my face up. He moved so close our noses touched before he tentatively kissed my lips. Pulling back, he waited for me to tell him to stop. I didn’t.

He reached for my lips again, this time lingering. I kissed him back, moving my mouth so it fit against his. How was it we fit so well together? Hunter pulled back again, and I opened my eyes.

“I’m going to kiss you now, and I’m not going to stop.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“Okay, then.” He brought my face toward his again and opened his mouth as I opened mine to deepen the kiss. At that moment, I wanted to crawl inside him and hide. His tongue entered my mouth, and I let him. I couldn’t really use the safe word because my mouth was occupied. I didn’t want to use it anyway.

Other books

Walker Pride by Bernadette Marie
The Lemur by Benjamin Black
The Holcroft Covenant by Robert Ludlum
BSC08 Boy-Crazy Stacey by Ann M. Martin
The Survivors by Dan Willis
Day of the Dead by Lisa Brackman
The Man Plan by Tracy Anne Warren
The Falcon's Bride by Dawn Thompson
Duck & Goose Colors by Tad Hills