Leaning against the granite island, he tapped his fingers nervously. It was easy to see why he got the women’s votes. Most would call him devastatingly handsome with his dark hair, chiseled features and physique. But right now, knowing what he was capable of, I only saw the ugliness that surrounded him.
“I don’t recall rearing you to talk back to me. You’re starting to sound more and more like that brother of yours. I won’t tolerate that kind of disrespect from you.”
It took every ounce of restraint to not roll my eyes at him. “Tommy’s dead, Dad. Can’t we at least respect his memory? Don’t you miss him at all?” I watched him closely for a reaction, noting his fingers curled into a fist. Looking away from me, he stared at his hand for several moments before lifting it and lightly smacking the counter with it.
“Don’t be late, again,” he said sharply, stepping around me and leaving the room. Turning, I watched him go, unbuttoned his white dress shirt as he moved toward the hallway that led to his room. My gaze dropped to his waist, noting his cell phone was clipped to his belt. I had no idea when I would be able to get it.
Chapter Twenty-One
Six
Grabbing the rag beside me, I did a final swipe over the finished tattoo before holding up a mirror. “How’s that look?” I asked my client, James, as he stared into it, observing the tribal wolf on his shoulder.
“Awesome. You did a great job!” He smiled widely, continuing to stare.
“Now you can say you survived your first tattoo.”
“It wasn’t too bad. I had to suck it up since my wife got one before me. I can’t let her show me up.” He chuckled.
“Did your wife get hers here, too?”
“Yeah, she has a couple, actually. A heart on her back that Edgin’ Eddie gave to her and another one on her wrist. She got that one on a trip to Vegas, though. She doesn’t like it as well as the other one. She keeps saying she wants to come in and see if Edgin’ Eddie can work on it and make it look a little better.”
“What’s wrong with it?” I asked, beginning to clean up some of the supplies as we visited.
“It has some light scarring in it and is slightly blurry looking in places. It’s not awful looking, but it’s not as good as the other.”
“Definitely tell her to come in. We can totally help fix it up so she’s happy with it.” I covered his tattoo with a clear cellophane wrap. “Don’t forget to keep that clean and moist with an antibiotic ointment. No swimming for at least two weeks, either.”
“Got it,” James replied, snagging his shirt and slipping it on before extending his hand to me. “Thanks a bunch! I’m really happy with how it turned out.”
“You’re welcome.” I smiled, shaking his hand. “If you ever decide you want another, come see me, again.”
“You can count on it.”
James left the cubicle and I continued cleaning up, glancing toward the clock. It was still two hours until lunchtime. This day was dragging.
My phone started buzzing in my pocket and I took it out, surprised to see it was Brooklyn calling. Instantly, I was worried. She should be in class right now.
“Sweetheart, why aren’t you in class?” I asked when I answered.
“I got a pass to the restroom,” she replied, her voice low. “I wanted to talk to you all morning, but I haven’t had the chance.”
I chuckled. “You’ll see me in a couple of hours.”
“I know, but I couldn’t wait. I found out the password to my dad’s phone.”
My nerves skyrocketed. She’d been trying to get it for several days now, without success. The whole thing made me nervous. I didn’t want Scott to know she was watching him. “Were you able to look at the phone, too?”
“No, he kept it on him. He dropped me off at school today so he could take my car in to be serviced and get new tires. He texted Rhonda to tell her he was running a little late right before we left and I saw him punch in the numbers—one, three, two, four. And I mean, I was sitting right there, so it wasn’t weird like I was spying or anything.”
“Well, that makes me rest easier, at least. So, does this mean you can’t come to lunch?”
She laughed. “Like I would miss lunch. Bailey is bringing me, but we’ll have to sit in your car this time.”
“I don’t mind. As long as I get to see you, I’m good.”
“Me, too. Okay, I better go before my teacher starts wondering what’s taking so long.”
“All right. Be safe. I’ll see you at noon.”
“I love you,” she said, and damn if my heart didn’t race. I grinned like a twitterpated teenager.
“Love you, too.” The line went dead and I slipped my phone back into my pocket.
“Who is she?” Edgin’ Eddie’s voice interrupted my thoughts and I turned to see him leaning against the doorway.
“Finally showed up to work today, huh?” I teased. He often came in late when I was at the shop in the mornings. “And I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I added, attempting to deflect the question. While I wanted nothing more than to share my relationship with Brooklyn to the world, right now, the fewer people who knew about it, the better.
“I’m talking about the female you were just on the phone with that has you grinning from ear to ear.” He laughed. “I’m not stupid, you know. I see the way you watch the clock and go streaking out of here on your lunch hour. You’re hooking up with someone, and from the way she has you running, I’d guess you’ve fallen hard for her.”
Chuckling, I shook my head and continued to clean. “You think you know everything, don’t you?”
“I think I know you. What I want to know is why haven’t I met her, yet? It’s not like you to hide your relationships. She’s not married, is she?”
A snort escaped me. “Hardly, but it’s complicated.”
“How complicated?” He eyed me with concern.
Sighing, I rubbed my forehead and leaned back against the counter, folding my arms. “She’s young.”
Alarm spread across his face. “How young is young, exactly?”
“Seventeen,” I replied. “Eighteen in a couple months.”
A breath of relief escaped him. “Okay, so she’s still legal young, at least.”
I laughed. “Did you really think I was out shagging a fifteen year old? Come on, Uncle. You should know me better than that. I’m struggling with the whole seventeen/eighteen thing as it is.”
“True. I can see how you might. I have to say this news surprises me, though. You’ve always chased after older women—for as long as I can remember.”
“Yeah, well, after the last one, I decided I needed a breath of fresh air.”
He shook his head. “She did a number on you, but I wouldn’t exactly call her an older woman.”
“She was a year older than me.”
“Yeah, that doesn’t count.”
“It does if you’re wanting to shed every possible bad light on her,” I replied, giving a wry laugh. “I’m happy to be rid of her.”
“Are you sure?”
Glancing at him, I narrowed my eyes. “Positive. Why?”
“She came in here looking for you, yesterday.”
“What?” Every muscle in my body froze. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You weren’t here. I guess she went by your house, too, but no one was home. She asked me to give you this.” Reaching behind, he retrieved an envelope from his back pocket. “It’s sealed, so I have no idea what’s in it; but if you want me to toss it, I will.”
Staring at it like it was a poisonous snake ready to strike, a battle waged inside me over whether or not to take it. Sarah and I hadn’t spoken since the day I found the abortion papers and left. Not one word after our epic screaming argument. I hadn’t even seen her anywhere around town, avoiding any place I thought she might be.
“I’ll read it,” I said, extending my hand. Eddie put the envelope in it and for some reason, in that second, I felt like I was cheating on Brooklyn.
I didn’t like it. Glancing up, I stared at my uncle. “Regarding what we were discussing earlier, can you please not mention that I’m seeing someone? There are other complications I haven’t shared with you and I need things kept quiet for the time being, until they’re resolved.”
He studied me closely. “Are you in some kind of trouble, kid? Do you need help?”
I laughed. “No, nothing like that. It’s just I promised to keep things quiet so her family wouldn’t find out until she’s eighteen.”
He studied me a few moments longer. “Okay. Just know you can come to me if you need anything.”
“I already knew that. Thanks.”
“Love ya, kid. Take it easy.” Turning away, he disappeared before I could reply.
Sighing, I pushed the rollaway stool to the far corner of my cubicle. Sitting down, staring at the envelope in my hands I slowly began to tear it open, wondering what Sarah could possibly have to say to me. I gently retrieved the papers inside, opening them to find a long, handwritten letter:
Dear Six,
Before you rip this letter up, please, I beg you to give me a chance to say what I have to say. Then you can do whatever you want.
First, I want to apologize for all the pain I caused you. I know there’s no way for words to make up for what I’ve done, but you were right. The baby belonged to both of us and I should’ve come to you before I made any rash decisions.
Old emotions, full of pain, boiled to the surface and my hands trembled slightly. I continued reading.
Now that I’ve had time to consider everything, I think I made a mistake. As a girl, all I heard were stories of friends who got pregnant and then told their boyfriends about it only to have the guys ditch them. I was so afraid if you found out I was pregnant, I’d lose you, too. You’ve said on several occasions that you didn’t want children until much later in life. I’m not blaming this on you—simply stating that this was what led me to my decision. It was my fault for not trusting you to stick by me.
Clenching my jaw, I tried to push forward as the wound inside me was being torn open once more.
I regret what I did. Oh, how I regret it, especially knowing you would’ve stayed. I lie awake at night, rubbing my hand over my flat stomach and wondering how big my belly would be right now, while trying to hold on to what it felt like to lie naked in your arms all night long. Would you be here beside me, caressing my stomach, too? Bringing my body to life everywhere you touch me, just like old times? I miss that. I miss you. I miss how you made love to me anywhere and everywhere.
Images of the time we’d spent together “christening” every room in both of our places, flitted through my mind. We’d been insatiable together, tearing off our clothes at any given opportunity, just so we could join together and be one in the moment. I remembered getting to know every inch of her body—doing things with her I’d never done with anyone else. That was how we’d gotten into this trouble in the first place. I hadn’t always had protection with me, or used it when I did have it. She’d forget to take her pill sometimes, too. It was a recipe for disaster waiting to happen. We’d danced around, playing with fire and got burned. I could take the blame for my part in that, but then she went and destroyed me in the worst possible way.
Please give me another chance, Six. I’m begging you. I was hoping you would eventually come back and talk to me, at least, but I can see that isn’t going to happen. So, I’m trying to make the first move, here.
Let me make it up to you. Come back. We can move in together. We can even get married if you want, and we’ll have lots of beautiful children. I’ll give you all the babies you ever wanted. I just need you to come back. Please. I love you, and I can’t live with this empty horrible ache in my heart any longer. I can’t go on knowing my selfish choices cost me both my child and my love, forever. Come back and the two of us can find a way to heal, together. Please, Six. I love you so much! I don’t know how else to ask or say it, except to say I love you with all my heart. Come back.
Sarah
Sitting in the corner, I stared at nothing, I tried to decipher all the feelings running through me, a myriad of emotions that seemed both welcome and too much to handle at the same time. This was the first time in this whole mess that she’d admitted she’d done something wrong by not telling me about the pregnancy. It was something I needed to hear from her—the one thing that could allow a healing step forward.
Folding the letter, I stood and placed it in my pocket. Grabbing my keys, I left my cubicle and headed toward the front. “I’m taking a long lunch,” I said as I passed my uncle and he nodded.
“Take all the time you need.” I was happy that he didn’t question me any further as I pushed through the front door and headed to my car. I couldn’t have explained my feelings at this point, anyway.
Digging my phone out, I punched in Sarah’s phone number. I’d deleted it from my contact list, but it didn’t matter. I still had it memorized.
“Six?” she answered on the second ring, sounding hesitant.
“Where are you?” I asked.
“I’m at home. I’m off today.”
“Stay there. I’m on my way over.” I ended the call without waiting for her to reply and climbed into my car. The drive passed quickly. I knew the fastest route to her house and I could probably have driven it blindfolded, for all the times I’d driven it before.
Even though we’d never officially moved in together, we might as well have. I often spent a week at a time at her house, only going home to change out my clothes for different ones on occasion, unless she decided to come spend a few days with me. We’d been inseparable. Every single night spent in one or the other’s bed.
Parking in front of her small, tan stucco house, I got out and made my way up the sidewalk. She opened the door before I could knock, looking like the same vision she’d been the first time I laid eyes on her. Her long blonde hair was in a side ponytail draping lightly over her shoulder, against the thin white t-shirt that used to be one of mine. She was bra-less, and I was pretty certain there was nothing under the shirt but a pair of tiny lace panties like she always wore—she bought them on purpose, in bulk, because she knew I liked to rip them off.
I would’ve thought this look had been contrived entirely for my benefit, had it not been for the fact that she wasn’t wearing any makeup and her eyes appeared to be red like she’d been crying. Also, I didn’t fail to notice the pint of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream, half eaten, on the coffee table behind her. That was her go to treat whenever she felt upset.
“Come in,” she said, stepping to the side. I stayed where I was for a moment, trying to shore myself against the memories, both good and bad, that were threatening to tug me under. If I stepped inside, they might consume me.
“I can’t,” I replied, standing firm. “I’m working today and I left early for lunch so I could come see you.”
“Oh,” she said, continuing to stare at me longingly. I could see both hurt and desire in her eyes.
“Listen, I read the letter, and I wanted to thank you for it. I know with the way we left things, it must’ve taken a lot of courage to write.”
“It did,” she agreed, offering no more.
“When I left before, I did so with the intention of never talking to you, again; but after reading this, I knew I had to see you.”
She didn’t speak, but I saw the spark of hope light in her eyes. Stepping closer, I reached out to stroke her cheek but dropped my hand before I touched her. “You and I, what we had was amazing and incredible. I want you to know that I remember that. That’s why everything hurt so badly. I felt like you betrayed my love for you and it nearly destroyed me. Yes, I would’ve stayed. I would’ve made it right. We would’ve been a family.”
“We still can,” she said softly, a tear dripping over the rim of one eye and running down her face.
I shook my head. “We can’t. Don’t you see? You and I could have twelve kids together and I’d always be counting heads, thinkin
g of the one that wasn’t there—the one that will never be there. And then, I’ll blame you for taking its life.”
A sob escaped her and more tears fell.
“I don’t want to be bitter about this for the rest of my life, and I’m afraid that’s exactly what will happen if I stay with you. I’ll grow bitter and I’ll blame both of us—because, let’s face it—both of us are at fault in this.”
“Please, Six. Let’s just try. Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think. Maybe we can get past it, together. We were so good together.”
“We were, but it’s too late.” I hated hurting her, even after everything she’d done; it still bugged me to see her cry.
“Why?” Her bottom lip quivered as she spoke.
I sighed heavily, running a hand through my hair and staring at my shoes for few moments before I looked her in the eye, once more. “I’ve met someone else and I’m crazy about her. She’s . . . she’s my everything.”
The change in her was immediate, her spine stiffening as she stared at me through her tears. “You’re in love with her.” It was a statement.
“Yes,” I answered truthfully, knowing I was driving a knife into her heart. But she needed to hear the truth so she would know there was no chance at a future for us. “I don’t think I really knew that love could feel like this. It’s so much more than I’ve ever experience before. She’s so completely good, and she loves me. I can’t get over it.” And the final bit of honesty—the one that would be the most painful. “I’ve had feelings for her for over a year.”
“So . . . while you were with me?” Slumping against the doorframe, she looked devastated.
“Yes. I’d hoped to date her before you and I met, but it didn’t work out at the time. Now it has. Don’t get me wrong. When I was with you, I was committed to you. I just always wondered “what if,” you know? The timing worked out this go around.”
“I see.” I knew she was upset by the way she pressed her lips together. It was the expression that usually preceded an argument.