Chapter Thirteen
Roman
I knock on the old screen door and hear the sweet, soft voice of Ima from inside. “Come in,” she calls out as she peeks her head around the frame. She smiles when she sees me. “Roman.” She wipes her hands on a towel she has flung over her shoulder, then pushes the door open for me. “Come in, sweetie.” I step through the door and it slaps closed behind me.
Warm familiarity hits me in the chest as I walk into the old kitchen. Memories flood my head of all the good times I’ve had in this house with these people. Laughter shared over holiday meals, cheeseburgers on the grill after winning a state championship in football, Hugh was a big fan. Growing up with the six people who became more than just friends from a small town, but a family I could never live without and would kill to protect. Ima and Hugh stepping up to help me with Piper after the death of our parents is a debt I could never repay. I don’t know if I could’ve made it through that time in our lives without them.
“Have a seat, honey, and I’ll get you some coffee.” She scurries around the kitchen that’s filled with the scent of frying bacon and biscuits.
I lower myself into one of the chairs, sitting around the old dining table that’s been sitting in the middle of the kitchen since I can remember. It protests under my weight but holds me up.
She sits a steaming cup of black coffee in front of me and takes the seat directly to my left.
She looks at me and smiles. “So, what’s up?” She was my mother’s best friend and was just as devastated with her death as Piper and I were, so asking her about the woman who’d caused us so much pain has me at a loss. I worried about asking her, making her remember all the things we’ve fought so hard to forget. I wonder if she’s ever resented Hollis for her part in Emily and Cowboy’s tragedy. There are so many things this conversation could bring up and too many ways it could go.
I clear my throat. “Do you resent Hollis?” My question takes her by surprise.
She stands, not saying a word, and retrieves a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet under the sink. Grabbing two glasses before returning to the table.
I look at her, a little confused. “Honey, a conversation like this needs something a little stronger than coffee.” She pours us both a glass, oh how our women don’t fall far from our sturdy tree. “Roman, when she first came back—,” she starts, but stops and impressively downs her glass in one gulp before continuing. “I didn’t know what to think. To tell the truth, I was more upset with you than her for bringing her back. I was scared of what she was going to do to you, because I remember how she twisted you up when she left, how broken you were. And I don’t think you’ve ever truly came back from where her leaving sent you.” She pours herself another. I remember her and my mother partaking lightly, but she’s slamming back the whiskey like a veteran sailor home on leave.
“But I never resented the poor girl who was just a product of her upbringing. She didn’t choose for her mother to kill herself over a man, and she sure as hell didn’t ask to be left alone in a world that did nothing but hold her down and step on her neck. I always believe that people can change, and she has. And I have to take a cue from my daughter.” Her eyes dart from mine to the window over the sink, looking off into the clear blue fall morning sky. “If Emily can forgive a woman who took everything from her and be one of her strongest supporters, I have no place to pass judgement.”
I look at a woman who I’ve always looked up to, but now I have her sitting on a pedestal. She’s a saint.
She looks back and catches me staring at her. “Thank you, Ima. That makes this a lot easier.”
I drink what’s in my glass and watch as she adds more. She sets the bottle down on the table. “Now, ask me what you really came here to find out.”
~~~~~~
Hollis makes it home around nine, a whole thirteen hours after she’d left, shit-faced and wearing a tiara, blue jeans and a tee that states ‘I’m the fucking Bride, Bitches.’ Which makes me wonder where the dress, worth several hundred dollars I sent her out of here in is? But she still has the fuck me heels grasped tightly in her right hand, which I’m thankful for.
I fireman carry her drunk ass up the steps to our room, remembering the night before and how much different tonight is. I laugh as I throw her back on the bed, watching her body bounce, making her giggle.
“What the hell are you laughing at?” I try to act mad, but seeing her feeling so good after a day with the girls makes my acting skills fall short.
She closes one eye and crooks her finger at me to come closer. I fall on the bed over her, holding myself up with my arms. She reaches up, smoothing her hand down my cheek, then gives it a good smack, making me flinch. “What the fuck?”
Before I can back away, she grabs my tee, holding me in place. “You’re so fucking hot, and that dick of yours? Damn.” She gives her hips a little shimmy right before she brings her legs up, wrapping them around my hips to pull me down on her.
Her breath smells like a brewery and she reeks of cigarette smoke. She either puffed away on them like a freight train or Piper and the girls had her in places they know I would never approve of.
“Okay, you hot mess, let’s get these clothes off.” I reach down for her tee and she lets out a shriek of happiness.
“That’s what I’m fucking talking about,” she whoops.
“Uh, no,” I tell her, making her pout.
“But I wanna fuck.” She thrusts her hips up into me again. Let’s face it. I’m a man who has a woman, a nasty smelling woman, beneath me. One I really enjoy fucking, but not tonight, not in her state.
I stand and fight to untangle her legs from my waist. “Hollis, damn it.” She tightens her legs and I almost drag her off the foot of the bed trying to get loose. She starts to giggle again, but this time it’s book ended by gagging noises. I quickly jerk her up by the arm and lead her into the bathroom. I get her to the commode just in time to get her head over it, just as the raunchy stench of alcohol comes out of her mouth. I wince as she retches out the activities of the day.
She slumps back on me with a sigh. “I fucking hate vodka,” she says as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Her being drunk and the way she’s talking makes me rethink her spending any more significant time with my little sister.
“Here.” I lean her against the cool tub to get her a wet washcloth. I press it to her forehead and hand her the mouth wash. “Do this.” I put the bottle to her lips. When she’s done swishing it, I point to the toilet. “Spit.” She does as she’s told, and I watch as her lids grow heavy, knowing she’s getting ready to pass out. So I stand and wait as the buzz of her day takes it’s course. It only takes a few minutes before her head slumps to the side and she begins to lightly snore. I let my shoulders slump in relief, but I can’t begrudge her the good times she’s had today. It’s exactly what she needed to take her mind off all the shit that’s going on around her.
I bend and pick her up, tucking her head into my chest. “I love you.” I whisper into her hair, even though it smells like an ashtray.
I tuck her into bed in only her panties. The rest of her clothes are in my hand as I head downstairs to throw them into the laundry hamper.
My phone rings as I pour myself a whisky. It’s Cruz. “Hey, man, I was starting to get worried,” I say with a laugh when I answer, but he doesn’t laugh back.
“I’ve found something.” His voice is tense, making me sober up.
“You have?”
“Yeah. Can you come down here in the next few days? I’ve got somebody you can talk to that I think will give you all the answers you’re looking for.” Cruz had come through in a big way, and he and I plan for me to ride down.
I’d somehow made my way back up to our room. Hollis lays on her left side, her long shiny hair cascading over the pillow, the light from the bathroom bathing her face with a soft yellow glow.
I lean in, placing a light kiss over the scar on her cheek. I’m the only one she ever allows touch the tender skin, and for that, I’m honored. She’d gotten it for me, protecting my family. Most days she’s self-conscience because of it, but it takes nothing away from her beautiful face.
She’s the love of my life, and I’ll give her the fairy tale she deserves, the one she’s owed. And I’ll stop at nothing until she gets it.
~~~~~~
Hollis spends most of Sunday in bed, nursing a massive hangover, with ginger ale and saltine crackers, moaning about how much she hates alcohol and how she’s going to throat punch Piper the next time she sees her.
I sit on the bed beside her limp body. “Did you at least get a dress yesterday?” I ask the pillow she has laid over her face.
“I think I did.” I groan, and she snaps her fingers. “Yes! Yes I did.” Her words are muffled by the pillow she still has on her face. “That’s the last thing I remember before everything goes black, like there’s nothing after except for this misery I’m in right now.” She rolls to her side, curving her body around me. “I’m going to kill your stupid sister.”
I chuckle and smooth a lock of her hair out of her face. “You rest, I’ll be downstairs. I’ll come check on you in a little bit.”
I open my laptop and pull up my credit card account, just to see exactly what and all my sister did to my bride-to-be and where the hell she’d used my card. The list of charges is three pages long. One at the bridal boutique for three thousand dollars, which must be for the wedding dress I sent them out shopping for, but the rest are at local bars, the ABC store in the middle of town. A charge at the local apparel store, which must be where they got her jeans and tee. I sit back in my desk chair and shake my head, unable to fight the smile curving my lips.
Piper and the others had shown Hollis a good time, and that’s exactly what I wanted them to do, so hopefully they won’t feel the need to throw her a bachelorette party in the future.