Paradise Found: Cain (Paradise Stories Book 2) (38 page)

“Get out of here,” Cain said, his voice low, but his tone laced with evil. He flicked his hand in the air again, as if he was shooing away a bug. My heart crushed and crumbled inside me. He’s hurting, I tried to reason. He doesn’t know what to do, I argued in my head, but the dismissal was too much. The final blow came in words, not contact. “This happened because of you.”

Twenty-four hours later, Kursch was in stable condition. He survived the surgery, but he was monitored with so many machines he looked like an alien. I hadn’t left his side. Neither had Ava. Abel and Elma eventually went home when visiting hours were over. I argued my way into staying. My head had fallen forward, my eyes closed, but my mind couldn’t rest. I’d never been so afraid before.

I didn’t understand fear. Neither the feel of skin against skin in combat nor the harsh words lashed out at me by my own father frightened me. The rough touch of a woman or the sharp bite from one never worried me either. Control was my mistress. I took it for Abel. I took it for Evie. I desired it from Sofie, but the emotion that encompassed me, as I watched the large powerful anchor of Kursch crumble before me, froze my body in unprecedented horror. When he turned white, then went limp, I couldn’t describe what took over in my heart, the lack of air I breathed, or the sound in my head. All I heard was a montage of angry words spewed year after year from my father, and the soothing tone of Kursch telling me I could take it. I was tough. I’d find a way to live through the pain.

Beatings. Betrayal. Abandonment. He’d been there through it all, and still he smiled. He joked and offered a hand. He wasn’t soft on me. He was soft on Abel.
Abel?
I’d been unnecessarily cruel to him earlier. The hurt in his eyes wasn’t as evident as when he was a child. He was learning to mask his emotion, which a fighter needed to do. He couldn’t show pain. He couldn’t show weakness. He dared never show fear.

Fear. That’s what made me strike out. I was in protection mode. I couldn’t let any of them get to me or I’d crumble myself. My nerves frazzled inside me. It was like an electric current was sizzling below my skin and the softest of touches would unravel me. I’d exploded. My mind wandered.

Sofie?
Softness. I couldn’t handle it. She tried and the only way I knew to keep her from seeing me was to push her away, but then again, maybe that was the real me she saw. Finally, for the first time, she recognized the devil inside me. The one ready to take what I wanted to possess but would just as easily regurgitate it when I was done. Her tenderness would undo me and I needed to stay strong. I was strong, I told myself repeatedly. I would not give in to the pressure behind my eyes. The fear of crying was superseded by anger at the possibility.

Then that little spitfire Elma brought me back to reality. Her words haunted me. Following after the security guard, who gave a good fight to get me out of the emergency room, she turned on me instantly outside the growing audience in the waiting room.

“You ungrateful fucking asshole,” she snapped with a touch of that Southern drawl in her. She flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder like she was ready to raise her delicate hands to me and attempt to beat the ever-loving-shit out of me, if she could.

“He loves you no matter what you say or do,” she began. “He’s taken your bullshit, as you’ve taken your share, too. But don’t you dare,
dare
, take your helplessness in this moment out on him.”

I was ready to argue when she continued.

“And that girl? She stood there and took that crap, too. After all the searching and whining you did to find her, you shooed her off like a fleck of dirt. You’ll be damn lucky to find her in your home when you return. Don’t throw away what you have, because deep down inside, you’re scared out of your fucking mind,” she stammered.

“He was touching her,” I growled.

“So what? Abel loves me. I’m confident of that. You could have been touching her, instead of cowering away from her.”

“I wasn’t…”

“You’ve never been a coward. Don’t start now.”

I was prepared to state my case with a giant, “Go to fucking hell”, but she stalked off from me, leaving me slapped with her words.

I wasn’t being a coward.

I was being realistic. I couldn’t let Sofie touch me. She was soft. She would comfort, and I would fall apart. I needed to stay strong. I needed to fix this for Kursch.

A hand rested on the back of my head and I shot upright from my thoughts. We were alone for the moment, as Ava went to get coffee some time ago.

“Hey,” Kursch muttered with a groggy voice.

“Hey. How are you feeling?” Kursch’s hand fell back to the bed with the movement of my head.

“Like someone clenched my heart, then stomped on it,” he said weakly, his eyes closing as he spoke.

“You should rest. The doctors say you’re going to need lots of rest.”

He nodded and paused a beat.

“That was a lot of shit at once,” he sighed. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m good.”

He was silent another moment, the weight of my lie pressing down on my own chest.

“You look like hell. What’s that smell?”

Sniffing myself, I remembered I hadn’t showered since the day before when Abel and I were about to fight. It had been almost a full day.

“Where’s Sofie?” he added.

“Oh, she went home.” I lied, uncertain of any truth about Sofie.

Kursch’s eyes opened fully at that response. He rolled his head to look at me.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing,” I replied, guiltily. His eyes narrowed at me.

“If you lose her this time, it’s your own damn fault.”

I wasn’t going to lose her, I told myself, but my heart pinched.

“I lost the woman of my dreams once. She didn’t give me a second chance,” his voice strained. “You have one. You better not blow it. There’s no round three in the ring of life.”

While my typical response, when he spoke his philosophy, was to tell him to shut up, this time I let him have his say.

“I’m not going to lose her,” I snapped.

“Are you certain? I know your temper and your temperament. If it doesn’t go your way, there is no way,” Kursch chuckled, then winced in pain.

“You need to stop philosophizing. It’s hurting your heart, old man,” I admonished but smiled.

“I just want you to be happy. That’s what hurts my heart. You’re a good man, and you don’t see it,” he said, his voice fading off into sleep. I didn’t believe him, but his words reminded me of Sofie’s the other night, telling me that I loved people and took care of them. The core of her words rang true. Never one to openly admit my feelings, the truth was I did care. I protected Abel because I wasn’t only his keeper; I loved him. He was my brother. I would do anything for him. I had done anything. I
fought
so he could live a life without it. The irony was he needed to fight his own battles.

Abel arrived shortly after that and demanded I go home, first and foremost for a shower. He didn’t mention what I said to him, nor did he say anything about how I reacted to his touching Sofie. As I left the room, I simply nodded at him, in way of apology. I’d never said I was sorry, and in the moment, we had reverted back to when we were young. My nod was acknowledgement; his silent response was acceptance. He was always going to be the second son, and always come after me, but that did not make him the lesser one. He wasn’t afraid to take Kursch’s hand in his, and hold onto it, while he stared at a man who had been our second father. Abel found strength in his emotions. Unwilling to admit mine, Elma was right. I was a coward.

I’d learned that my father had been arrested after Malik and Ray put up their own fight with my father’s henchmen. The police were called by Elma, and Malik held my father hostage until he was arrested for the attempted murder of Kursch. My fear was Kursch would drop the charges. Their history dictated a kind of back and forth, covering for each other’s sins. I couldn’t be involved. I’d press my own charges for Sofie’s sake regarding her parents, if necessary. I wanted nothing more to do with his judgmental, oppressive ways. Papers for dissolution of the contract I held with him were already drawn. Minus months from turning twenty-five, I didn’t plan to wait another day. The fight was over for me. Sofie was the only fight that remained.

I found my home empty of her but took relief that all her things were still present. I liked to believe we had passed the stage of her packing up and leaving, but I had to admit, if she told me not to touch her and left, I would have deserved it. It would have crushed me, but at this point, it was my fault, despite my accusations. My words were harsh and unwarranted. They were said in haste and panic, and I hated myself for them. I showered quickly, worried I’d miss a call from either the hospital or Sofie. She hadn’t tried to contact me in the twenty-four hours I’d been away, and as much as I deserved that too, it made me sad to think I’d pushed her away. I’d gone too far. I couldn’t admit that what I really needed was her understanding. A tactile creature; her hands on me were the assurance I craved most and the tool that would break me.

I laid down, thinking I would close my eyes for only a moment. The bed was so soft, the comfort pulling me under. I fell into a dream state, where images of my father haunted me: forcing me to bend over his desk to belt me, telling me to stand up to take another as he slapped me, slamming me into a wall to emphasize his point. It got harder as I grew to follow through on each of these tasks. The day I shoved him back, he called me a man, but the guilt I had that I’d pushed my father ate away at me. It made me hard, harder than I’d been before. I decided never to love. I had long let go of my mother. I kept Kursch and Abel at arm’s length. My father was another story; I wanted to please him. I wanted to make him proud. That pride came when I showed I was him. Then I fought back. I didn’t want to be him. I couldn’t devour my own children like that. I also swore that day that I would never have them. What kind of father would I be, as the only role model I had was Atom?

Then I thought of Kursch. He was the one to take me fishing. He assembled my first bike. He drove me to school. We never discussed what happened with my father. It was like his actions spoke volumes that his silence couldn’t break. He tried to instill wisdom on women, which I never took, until I met Sofie. He was both mother and father, when biologically he was neither. Warmth surrounded me at thoughts of Kursch. Eventually, I drifted off into deeper sleep.

I awoke with a start and startled at the arm draped over my waist. With relief, the ring on the third finger told me who it was. I turned only slightly to see Sofie sleeping behind me. My twist must have woken her because she retracted her arm instantly and sat up. Her hair was going in different directions and I had the strangest déjà vu moment of the first time I saw her in my bed. She sat on my bed at the inn, with her signature red t-shirt hugging her curves. Presently, she was dressed in a similar manner. I’d jumped to conclusions as to what had happened between us back then and exposed myself, literally.

She turned to look at me over her shoulder presently.

“You were making noises in your sleep,” she offered without prompting.

“What happened?”

“Kursch was stabbed,” she stated slowly, pinching her eyebrows at me.

“No, I mean, how did you get in bed with me?”

“You don’t remember?” she questioned, looking down at me in that same way, she looked at me more than a year ago. My heart leapt at the memory, although I recalled what I did next.

“Okay, sweetheart, one more for the road,” I said, pushing down the sheet to expose my fully erect dick. He stood up straight and tall in attention, as he always did when she was near.

She glared at me as only she could do. Those tender lakes of blue turned instant icy pond. Her sexy red-rimmed glasses with that pout was all that was needed to complete the look. I’d lose it all over this bed without her ever touching me.

Ignoring me, she slipped to the end of the bed and hopped off. That tight red t-shirt rode up her back, exposing sweet skin that I loved above skinny jeans. She flipped her hair like I’d seen her do and twisted it into an elastic band. When she crossed to the side of the bed, my heart dropped. This is where history would not repeat.

Naked and exposed, I leapt for her, dragging her down on top of me.

“Don’t do it.”

“Don’t do what?” she choked as I squeezed her.

“Don’t tell me it was fun while it lasted, then walk away.”

“What are you even talking about?” she giggled, hesitantly.

“That’s how it happened. You took off the ring and walked out the door.”

She stared down at me as I held her in a vice grip against my bare chest. Her hands were placed on my pecs, pushing herself upward to look at me, but I wasn’t letting her go.

“Kursch didn’t stop you,” I softened. “I told him to go after you, but he didn’t.”

She continued to stare.

“He told me right then you were too good for me. I deserved you, deserved good in my life, he said. But you just seemed
too
good for me.”