Authors: R. K. Ryals
Tears streaked my face. “It’s all coming
apart!”
Leaning over, I shook him.
Out of nowhere, Dad shouted,
“Stop!” The sound echoed, repeating itself, “Stop, stop,
stop
…”
Turning
over, he grabbed my wrist hard enough to leave a bruise. “Just
stop! I can’t do this! I can’t take care of you right now. I need
time!”
“It’s been three weeks,” I whispered, too
afraid to move.
“I’m dead now, Tansy,” he groaned. Rolling
himself out of bed, he stumbled past me and left.
When he returned, he was drunk, putrid odors
rising from his skin and breath as he lurched over chairs and
banged into walls.
Deena hid out in her room, grossed out and
terrified. Jet wailed, cursing the world.
I cleaned up vomit, and scrubbed my father’s
piss off of the walls. I did dishes and clothes, too, because we
all couldn’t just give up. Someone had to do it.
I sobbed while cleaning. It would be the
last time I cried.
“Oh, God!” Leaning against Snow, my fingers
trailed through her golden coat. She flopped over, offering me her
stomach. “I had to learn so much, Dad!” I hissed. “How to still go
to school and manage things. How to pay the bills and file taxes.
Dad, you didn’t want to work. You did sometimes, but not enough to
cover everything. Jet got a job. I got one as soon as I could. At
sixteen, it was just easier to quit trying to do school with
everything else. Deena needed it more than I did, and Jet was gone
as soon as he graduated.”
Somehow, it didn’t feel like I was pitying
myself saying these things in front of a dog. It was more like
words I needed to say, words I needed to get out there.
“Damn you, Dad!” I bit out. “I hate you!”
As terrible as the confession was, I finally
understood why it felt so good for Deena to say the words.
Laying back, I stared at the ceiling, at the
way the moonlight danced over the spackled surface—like glowing
water stains.
I thought of Eli, of the way I’d acted, and
the way I’d climbed over him. My stomach lurched, a heavy, warm
feeling slinking from my limbs to a place just between my
thighs.
Sex should be the last thing
on my mind. I’d used the whole
fuck it to
forget it
philosophy with my ex-boyfriend,
Jeff, when my father was sick. Jeff broke up with me because of it,
because I was too intense, too crazed over everything. It made him
uncomfortable.
I didn’t blame him.
Subconsciously, I’d been looking for that
with Eli. Instead, I’d gotten a ‘we can’t’, and a ‘let me be your
roof’.
The pain was real. Too real. It pressed
against my skin, begging for relief.
Climbing out of bed, I went in search of the
boxes that were delivered to the animal clinic. My grandmother
wasn’t in the kitchen when I tiptoed through the living room. The
lights were off, a bulb above the stove the only illumination.
After tripping twice, banging my shins three
times, and cursing the house, I found the boxes in a small hallway
closet. My knitting needles and yarn were in the top box, and I
pulled the items free, hugging them to me as I rushed back to my
room.
Once inside, I stared at the needles, my
vision blurring when I pressed one of them into my palm, bearing
down until it hurt. Not hard enough to break skin but enough to
cause discomfort.
The pain felt better than it should, easing
the butterflies.
Too real.
Eli
Morning brought mist over the lawn, the
finger-like tendrils taunting me, the wind dragging moist air
across my face. The sun sneezed light, leaving glowing droplets
over grass and flowered bushes. Birds fluttered in the trees, faint
car noises drifting in from the road in the distance.
“Hey, you!” Jonathan cried. He was standing
on the porch of the main house, his hands circling his mouth. “You
hungry?”
I shook my head and took in a lungful of
moist, azalea scented air.
Frowning, his lips parted, another shout
ready when the door behind him opened. Pops stomped out, glanced at
Jonathan, and then kept walking, shoulders back.
From the porch to the yard. His shoes plowed
through the dew, daring me to leave while warning me to stay.
I mimicked his body language, my hands
sliding into my pockets, shoulders rising. Ready for war. A guy
didn’t need to know how to fight to know a battle was coming.
“You want to explain a phone call I received
this morning?” Pops asked, his gait bringing him to the porch
stairs and no farther.
Leaning against a wooden beam, I arched a
brow. “Depends on the call.”
He studied my face. “Hetty Anderson from
Refuge Rescue called. She had some concerns.” His foot touched the
first step, his piercing gaze boring into mine. “Was her
granddaughter here last night?”
“Yes.”
His chin rose, his narrow-eyed look and
creased brows telling me he was startled that I’d told the
truth.
“Did you expect me to bullshit you?” I asked,
maintaining eye contact.
“Maybe.” He clasped his hands behind his
back. “What are you pulling, Eli? You couldn’t give me a few more
days before you brought trouble to the door?”
“
Define trouble.” I flashed
him a tight-lipped grin. “Last time I checked being a friend wasn’t
doing anyone harm.”
“Did you have sex with her?” The words
spilled out of him, impatient and accusing.
“Go with your gut on that one, Pops.” Mouth
twisted, I turned away from him.
His shoes pounded up the stairs, his hand
grabbing my arm. I pulled against the grip, and his fingers
tightened, surprisingly strong for a man his age.
“Give me some credit here,” Pops growled.
“Talk to me. Did you have sex with the girl?”
My gaze dropped to his hand on my arm before
rising to his face. “No.”
Releasing me, he rubbed his eyes. “Okay.” He
stepped away. “I don’t know what you’re doing, but do you really
want to get involved with the girl? Her grandmother says she just
lost her father.”
I shrugged. “Do you want me to leave?” My
gaze flicked to the house, to the sanctuary housing my mother. “I
didn’t ask to be here, remember?”
“Is that what this is about?”
“She’s just a girl,” I
hissed, suddenly furious. At everyone. Especially Tansy. If she was
trying to start something … damn it! “She came to see
me
. Maybe you should ask
the old woman why that is, huh? I don’t care what the girl
said—”
“The girl didn’t say anything,” Pops
interrupted. “Lonnie Herrington, from down the road, saw the Refuge
van at the end of the drive and called Hetty.”
Relief swooped down into my body, the anger
rushing out of me. “Tansy didn’t say anything?”
“No.” Pops’ stare was hard
and pointed. “I’m hoping this Tansy girl didn’t have
anything
to
tell.”
Veins in my neck throbbed, my fists
clenching. “She’s been through some bad shit, is all. I’ll be
training her kid sister at the boxing gym.”
“Have you known her long?”
“No.” I massaged my temple, a burgeoning
headache forming. “Are you here to tell me to stay away from
her?”
“Would you? If I told you to?”
Frustrated rage replaced the earlier relief.
There was one thing I hated more than my mother: assumptions.
“You know I wouldn’t,” I answered. “The girl
seems decent. Hell, I’ve only got a few days to go by. I’m not
interested in a relationship, and God knows, I’m pretty sure she
isn’t either. You tell me to back off, and I’m likely to push
harder.”
Pops leaned back, considering me. Silence
stretched.
“You know grief has a funny way of
manifesting itself,” he said finally. “I saw a lot of things in the
military, experienced a lot of loss, and saw a lot of people
grieving. I’m not saying the girl is bad news, she’s hurting, but
watch it, Eli. Loss can translate into lust. It can—”
“Are we really doing this right now?”
“It can suddenly make the opposite sex glow
like a beacon,” he continued without missing a beat. “Let’s face
it. Intimacy is much better than pain. Don’t screw up. You need
help, not more complications.”
My thoughts scattered, my blood heating at
the memory of Tansy straddling me, her arms wrapped around my neck,
her hips grinding against mine.
“We talked. That’s it. If I wasn’t here
because of the courts, I’d be gone. Out of the way. But while I’m
here, it’d be nice if everyone remembered I quit being the little
boy Mom ran all over a long time ago.”
Pops nodded thoughtfully. “You certainly
don’t let anyone forget it.”
It was Saturday. I was off
today at the rescue, I wasn’t on the schedule at the gym, and I
was
still
dealing
with shit. “What do you want from me?”
“To try,” Pops replied. “That’s it.” Turning,
he started down the stairs, pausing on the bottom step to look back
at me. “And to dress half decent tonight. I’ve invited Hetty and
her granddaughters over for dinner.”
I froze. “You what?”
“Nothing alleviates fears like facing
them.”
“What the hell kind of philosophy is
that?”
Ignoring my question, he marched across the
lawn, his voice rising with each step. “I’m driving into the city
today to meet with Lincoln about the casino. He’s up from the gulf
coast with his fiancée. They’ll be joining us.”
Jonathan passed him in the yard, headed in my
direction.
“He’s fucking with me right?” I asked my
brother once he’d joined me on the porch.
He grinned, completely unapologetic. “He’s
all about people facing their demons.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Demons, my
ass.”
“Truce offering?” Jonathan asked. Punching me
lightly in the arm, he danced on the balls of his feet, and
gestured at his Porsche. “Come on. I’ll take you into town for
cigarettes.”
“What makes you think I’m out?”
“You keep reaching into your pocket and
frowning. If you don’t stop, you’re going to wear a hole in it.”
His eyes searched my face, a shadow crossing his features, edging
out the humor. “You really didn’t have sex with Tansy, did
you?”
My glare, his face. “You little eavesdropping
bastard.”
His hands flew up, surrendering. “No way,
man. I listened to Pops’ conversation with the grandmother. Even
one-sided, I got the gist of it.” His head tilted. “Well?”
“None of your business, bro.” I preceded him
down the stairs.
Shit, I’d never had so many
people interested in my sex life before. This was why I stuck with
cougars—with seasoned, confident women looking for a good time and
nothing beyond it. A few days
talking
with Tansy, and I had everyone
up my ass.
“Seems a little crazy,” Jonathan mumbled,
following me, “everyone caring so much about you two, you know?
Even me.”
“Maybe.” Or maybe not. She was a mess, and I
was a jerk. Complete recipe for disaster.
“She’s a good person. Good head on her
shoulders,” Jonathan said, climbing into his car. “Can’t be easy
with that sister of hers.”
Standing outside the
passenger door, I stared at the empty space he’d left. Was he
serious? How did he know Tansy had a good head on her shoulders? A
few conversations with her, and he thought she was good? Not that
she was bad, but she was definitely not okay. Everyone seemed fine
blaming me. Why? Because not a single damn
one
of them saw the darkness lurking
in Tansy, the beast itching to be set free. No one except
me.
All they saw was a soft spoken, grieving girl
being snared and taken advantage of by the local bad boy. I
laughed, loud and bitter.
“What’s so funny?” Jonathan asked when I
joined him.
My gaze slid to the window; to the
picturesque orchard, and the sun shitting sun babies all over the
place. “Nothing.”
I suddenly knew why Tansy
intrigued me so much. Everyone was so focused on me, so
convinced
I
needed
the help, that they couldn’t see the one who really needed
it.
No one needed me. Never had.
But she did. She was guilt-ridden and full of anger. The latter and
I were longtime acquaintances. Anger was something I knew how to
channel. Anger also ate you alive, from the inside out, if you
didn’t find a way to control it. Tansy
needed
me, and damned if that didn’t
feel way better than it should.
Tansy
My knitting needles clicked together, the
yarn circling them, and I stared at it, unblinking, until the whole
thing blurred into something I couldn’t see. I wasn’t even sure
what I was making. I just needed to knit. Anything to keep my mind
busy.
“Hey,” a quick rap on my bedroom door,
“Tansy?”
My gaze didn’t rise. It remained on the
needles. “I can’t today, Deena. I just can’t.”
Rather than leave, Deena remained at the
door, her body throwing a shadow across the bed. Snow, who’d slept
with me the night before, lifted her head, threw Deena a look, and
then tucked her snout between her paws.
“So,” Deena mumbled, “did you hear about
tonight?”
My body tensed. “Dinner at the Lockstons?
Yeah.”
“Okay,” she replied. “Just thought I’d
see.”
She didn’t leave.
My hands stilled. “Look, Deena—”
“You’re my sister,” she interrupted, “and I …
care about you, you know. I just don’t think I can apologize for
the things I said. At the same time, I don’t want there to be this
huge … like issue between us.”
My hands dropped to my lap. “You can care
about someone and still hate them.”