Rewind to the Past

Kelso

Staring out across the Ohio River, I imagine myself floating in the calm water, arms and legs spread wide, watching the night sky until my lids grow heavy and they close. Peace. Deep, even breaths escape me and I feel nothing except the cool and gentle river lapping against my body. The dark and incessant thoughts that torment me day and night cease to exist. It’s bliss.

A hand lands on my shoulder, tearing me away from my thoughts. I spring up from the log I’m sitting on and the warm beer in my hand falls to the dirt. A red haze tinges my vision. Nobody touches me. Without a single thought, I grasp the collar of the person who thought touching me would be okay and yank them toward me, nose to nose.  Heat sears through my face as my nostrils flare with each harsh breath. When my body winds so tight my muscles and veins strain against my skin, I growl, “You do not fucking touch me, ever.”

A soft feminine gasp infiltrates my rage and I jolt, pushing the woman away from me as if touching her burns my skin. The red-haired female raises her shocked emerald eyes toward mine as she stumbles backwards.

She catches herself before falling and snaps, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

The world around me comes screaming back into focus, the music and laughter from the river party some friends and I put together last-minute for something to do tonight. I’m banned from most of the bars in Louisville; apparently they don’t appreciate my anger. Which wouldn’t happen if other people stayed the fuck out of my personal space. It’s not much to ask for. Only bar letting me back in is TK’s, and fuck going there and having my brothers hover over me, waiting for when I’ll snap. 

Clenching my jaw, I answer, “Me? Don’t you know to never sneak up on someone? How about next time you use that sweet voice of yours, instead of touching what isn’t yours to touch.” 

Loud squeals and laughter draw my attention back to the party. The fire pit's still going strong, but there seems to be a lot more partygoers now. Time to hit the road before the cops show up. 

I turn without another word and head toward home. It’s an hour walk but I prefer the distraction of the night rather than sitting at home with my thoughts. 

“Hey, jackass,” the woman calls. 

I swing around in time to catch something she’s thrown into the air. It’s my black leather wallet. I lift my head and narrow my eyes, pinning her with a hard look. 

Red doesn’t falter. She stands to her full height, hands on her denim-clad hips, sass written all over her pissed-off expression. I imagine wrapping my hands through her long, soft strands of hair and taking her from behind, fucking her so hard the screams pierce through this whole park. 

She shifts uncomfortably and crosses her arms against her lace white shirt. The movement pushes her breasts up. I'm guessing she was going for the opposite effect: to hide her body from me.  

I'm jolted from my thoughts as my dick begins to harden. Anger-turned-lust now shifts into frustration as I realize the sensations this woman is bringing out in me.

“And you got this how?”  

“Benny. He said he found it on the ground and asked me to give it to you. Feel free to say ‘thank you’ anytime now.” Red tilts her head and raises a brow. 

My mouth curves up into a smile. “Tell Benny I said thank you.” 

Red’s eyes flash with defiance. I’m prepared for her reaction, even looking forward to it. But suddenly, the beautiful gleam in her eyes dims, dies almost. She sighs and tilts her head down, staring at the ground. It’s as if a bright light shone from her and then it abruptly turned off.

Red turns around without a word and walks back toward the party. 

I’m left confused, disappointed, and wanting more, more of her time, more of her eyes. Desperate to know who or what hurt her to the point of shutting down. A feeling I know all too well.

A muffled laugh expels from between my lips as I remember I only just met this woman. She intrigues me, yes, but that’s all. There’s no reason for me to be thinking this deeply about her or myself. These are the kinds of thoughts and feelings I ignore. They lead to painful memories and scars that are too deep to heal. 

I turn and start my long walk home, a trip that usually keeps my mind busy as I watch random people go about their lives and cars speed past me to get to where they’re going. However, this time all I see is blazing red hair and green eyes, and the questions she left me with. 

* * *

“Kel.” Benny elbows me. “The chick you were asking about is here.” 

My eyes wildly search the crowd in TK’s bar until they land on a sexy redhead wearing boots, jeans, and a black halter top. Her tight clothing showing off her delicious curves. 

I’m standing before I’ve decided whether I’ll approach her or not. I doubt she’ll remember me, it’s been two months, but I haven’t been able to forget her. 

She looks my way. Our eyes meet, and the world around me shifts from gray to a rainbow of different colors. I’m unable to look away or come to my senses. The spark is there again, in her cheeky smirk and lit-up eyes. She saunters over, and for the first time I’m nervous around a woman. My stomach feels strange, light, as if it’s floating.  

“Hey, Benny, and jackass.” Her voice is light and friendly. 

Warmth floods my chest when I realize she remembers me.

“Hey, Ivy. Is Becca here with you tonight?” 

Red smiles at Benny and out of nowhere I want to grasp her cheeks and point her beautiful face toward mine. How dare Benny get all her attention, even for a few seconds.

“She’s at the bar getting us drinks.” Ivy's eyes skim to me and then to my and Benny’s table. “I’m supposed to be finding us a table.” 

“Sit here,” I blurt, pulling out a stool for her. 

Ivy clamps her lips shut, looking like she’s holding back a laugh. 

I tilt my head away, my face heating with embarrassment. What the fuck is wrong with me? I need another drink. 

Stepping back from my chair, I feel movement to my left and find Ivy taking the seat I’d offered. Her eyes are downcast, staring at the table while she moves her chair in. 

As if sensing my stare, Red tilts her face and glances up at me. I’m not familiar with the expression she’s wearing, however I know when someone is studying me. Ivy’s gaze skims my jaw, travels from my forehead to my eyes and then down to my lips. I lick them nervously as she scrutinizes me. Her mouth widens slightly and the light feeling in my stomach becomes much more than floating; it’s as if a flock of birds became caged somehow and they’re frantically trying to escape. “I’m gonna go grab another drink,” I say, putting a hand on my abdomen.

Ivy's green irises dart to mine with surprise, as if I’d woken her from a dream. She spins around to face Benny, who’s sitting across the table with his back to us, peering into the crowd and bopping his head to the music. He hasn’t noticed whatever the fuck happened between Ivy and me. What the hell was that? 

“There you are,” Becca yells at Ivy. The tiny blonde is attempting to squirm through a crowd of people near our table with a drink in each hand. When she looks as if she’s about to be sucked back into the crowd and the drinks spill, I walk around the table and say, “Fucking move over, you assholes, let the woman through.” 

The crowd of about ten stop their chatter and swing their gazes to me. When they don’t move, I lose my patience. My body tenses as my feet part and my hands fist at my sides. “Move!” I rumble into the ignorant crowd. Most of the partiers lower their eyes and walk away, not wanting any trouble. But there's always a few idiots in a crowd, and this time there are two.

“Is this dickhead for real?” one idiot says to the other. 

Becca dances her way through the gap and says a quick thank-you as she passes by me. From what I’ve heard from Benny, she’s a firecracker; she would have been fine without my help, however nothing sets me more on edge than watching someone struggle with being smothered or touched. Even something as simple as a crowd. It’s a fear and weakness of mine. 

Stepping into the two idiots’ space, I tower over the jokers. I may be the youngest of my brothers, but I’m by no means small. The men square their shoulders, ready for a fight, and a playful grin forms on my face. Oh yes, this is exactly what I need to lose this fucking weird floating feeling in my stomach.  

Abruptly the men pale, and the grin on my face falls away. Fuck. Lowering my chin, I glance to my left and then to my right. Fuck. My brothers, all three, are flanking me like a fucking fleet of ships preparing for battle. 

The jokers raise their hands in surrender and walk backwards, disappearing into the crowd toward the exit. 

“Outside,” Slater growls.

Sighing, my brothers and I head for the back door as a unit, completely in sync. 

Glancing to the redhead who has me so twisted up inside, I catch her staring back at me. Becca is whispering into her ear while watching my brothers, but Ivy only has eyes for me. Her expression is one I can’t decipher. It’s not fear or lust, which are usually the only two things left on a woman’s face after seeing my temper. The light feeling in my stomach disappears and a weight hits my chest, hard enough that if I wasn’t in a room full of people, I may have fallen on my ass.   

The heavy black door opens and the cool night breeze whips past my face, causing me to tear my eyes away from Ivy.

“Kel, we talked about this shit,” Slater grinds out. “You gotta stop picking fights. We have enough to deal with.”

Exhaling, I lean against the brick wall and say nothing. Excuses hang on the tip of my tongue, but Slater’s right, I’ve got no good reason for creating more drama for us.

“Are you hearing us, Kelso?” Pacer demands. 

Lifting my head, I pin him with a stare that assures them all I’m hearing everything they’re saying. 

Shit’s fucked-up at the moment. Rex now knows it was Della who killed his father and we’re all on high alert, none of us knowing what Rex will do next. 

Mack’s lips thin and Slater stares at me as if he’s trying to figure out what he should say next. He’s lost for words and it's like a punch to my stomach. I hate seeing Slater struggle. He works too hard for us all, protects us, would do anything for us. 

Standing up straight and with a serious tone, I assure my brothers I won’t cause any more trouble. “I’m sorry. I fucked up. It won’t happen again. I’m good now. No more starting shit, you’ve all got my word.”

Pacer and Mack lift their chins, and Slater nods, signaling we’re all moving on from this. It’s easy with my brothers. It’s not forgiveness, because for the Kings, there will never be anything to forgive. 

Seeking to lighten the mood, I add, “Go home. There’s a piece of ass inside I’ve been waiting to see for a while, and you guys are making me look bad.” 

Mack grins and Pacer laughs. Slater peers over his shoulder, checking the area, still in authoritative mode. I don’t think my eldest brother has an off button.  

“Yeah? Any chance we’ll meet one of these girls one day?” Pacer asks.

“Fuck no!” I blurt. “Mack and Slater may be into the love bullshit, but I am not. I prefer all the ice-cream flavors, not just one.” I end with a wink. 

A laugh bursts from Slater. “You wait, brother.” 

I shake my head with a smile, but my brothers do not understand how serious I am. Being with the same person twice isn’t possible for me. I’m the man who sleeps around, and I never have a woman twice. I tie women up, hold their hands down, and growl when they try to touch. It’s how I’ve kept my secrets for so long. I’m the domineering, arrogant playboy who likes to fuck a lot. It’s a stereotypical role I had to take on to hide my real scars. To mask that with one simple touch, my body will bend and bow, cower like a small, innocent child because I’m still as damaged now as I was when we ran from our childhood house of horrors.

Slater checks his watch. He hates leaving Piper’s side, but he does anyway when he thinks he has to check up on his little brother. No matter how much Slater loves Piper, we all know every one of us is his priority. “All right, we gotta get back, anyway.” He gives me a pointed look. “I know you’ll be right, you’ve given me your word.” I nod, and Slater pats me on the shoulder. 

Pacer slaps my back. 

Mack and I fist bump. 

Then my brothers are rounding the corner, walking toward the parking lot, and then I hear the familiar rumble of Chevy starting up. 

Sliding down the concrete wall, I listen to my family driving away. I wish I could open up to them and explain why I fight, why I like the pain and how the hurt feels good. I yearn for the same answer myself, so I can change, but it seems who I am is set in stone. I know how I became this way: my childhood.

I don’t remember how old I was when Phillip first raped me, but I remember the sound of my screams and the sting of my tears. Maybe because I never learned how to take it. I didn’t find a place inside myself to hide while Phillip stole pieces of me. However, I did realize the more I cried, the harder Phillip would strike. It was my way of coping. I’d rather feel the sting of his backhand or fists than what was going on inside me. 

Decades later, I still have this intense need to feel… anything. Something stronger than the anger and hurt from my childhood. I know how to dance, to sing and have fun with my family and friends, but it all fades eventually. What’s the purpose of life? Where’s the sensation that should balance my pain to make this life worth living? I’ve read it’s love, but if that were true, then loving my family would have fixed me by now. 

Maybe I’m broken.  

I blink, a tear slips out, and then suddenly the loud music from inside filters out through the back door. I wipe at my face and swing my head to the left. When I spot Ivy’s red hair, tingles race along my skin. 

Ivy’s stopped midstep, her body stiff, and her lips are parted, as if she’s speechless. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I should have left you alone.” Red stumbles over her words. 

She caught me wiping away my tear. A tight knot forms in my stomach. Nobody but my family has ever seen me cry. 

Ivy turns and places her hand on the door handle. Breathing becomes difficult, as if an invisible force is stopping the air in my lungs from escaping. I’m desperate to keep her here with me, but I have no idea what to say.

“No, no, no,” I force out, followed by a whispered, “Fuck.” Shaking my head, I clench my eyes closed, begging myself to wake the hell up and stop acting so pathetic.

Ivy stills and looks at me over her shoulder.

Reminding myself I’ve talked to plenty of women before, I get my shit together. “You don’t have to go. You caught a King shed a tear, but can I trust you to keep my secret, Red?” I grin and lift an eyebrow.

Turning to face me, Ivy smiles. Out of nowhere, a heavy weight sits on my chest. I rub under my throat, hoping this sensation passes quickly. What the fuck is wrong with me today?

Red sits beside me and breaths in deeply. “Fresh air never smells as good as when you leave a bar filled with assholes using lame pickup lines to get you into bed.” 

I whip my head around and narrow my eyes. “Who? Can you point them out to me?” 

Ivy laughs. She thinks I’m joking. I should be, but damn, I’m using all my strength not to get up and storm into the bar and turn those fuckers inside out. For selfish reasons, of course. I want Ivy in my bed tonight, but only for one night. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Red asks softly. 

“No,” I reply bluntly, in a firm tone.  

“Hmmm.” Ivy drags the sound out. “Are you okay?” 

I twist my body toward her, my forehead creasing, thrown by the question. Am I okay? No one has asked me this before. I stay quiet, the answer too complicated for a simple no. 

“Silence is also an answer,” Red states, staring out into the night sky. “If you were okay, yes would have slipped off your tongue.” Her right hand makes a floating motion.

Why does it feel as if she’s digging? This is what I avoid with women, getting too personal. Biting down hard, causing tightness in my jaw, I demand, “Why do you care?”

Ivy tilts her head. Her eyes search my face, and a muscle twitches in my cheek. “If you saw me sad, wouldn’t you ask if I was okay?” She leans forward, her brows raised with expectation. She asks plainly and with pure innocence. As if there is only one answer, but it’s not mine. 

No, I wouldn’t ask a stranger if they were okay. An upset woman isn’t my business unless it’s my sister. However, I’ve had one burning question about Red for months now. What caused the sassy spark in her to die that night?

“The first time I met you. You were fiery, and then suddenly as if a black cloud came over you, you were sad. Why?”

I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth; the light in her eyes dies. Ivy glances down at the concrete, drawing patterns with her right hand. “My mom.” Her words are whispered, but thick with emotion. “It was the anniversary of her death.” Red looks at her watch. “It’s been two years, two months, and five days since I’ve seen my mom’s eyes.” 

If I wasn’t already on my ass, the grief in her voice would have brought me to my knees. 

Questions sit on the tip of my tongue. What happened? Was anyone there for you? But when tears spill from Ivy’s closed eyes I can’t help but pull her to me. She doesn’t fight my hand slipping around her waist, she settles into my embrace.

Wrapping my arms around her, warmth pours into my veins and through my bones. I have never wanted to absorb another’s pain more than I do in this moment. 

I want Ivy to know she’s not alone, that I understand the pain she’s going through, even if it’s for different reasons.

Breathing in deeply, I confess aloud what I’ve only ever allowed myself to know. “No, I’m not okay.” 

Ivy glances up and her glassy eyes lock with mine. “It’s okay to admit you’re hurting or confused about your current place in life. It’s okay not to be okay.” 

With a racing heartbeat, I swallow roughly. Her words hit me harder than she could ever know. 

Ivy lowers her head and burrows deeper into my embrace, or maybe it’s me who’s holding her tighter.

“Sometimes all I can handle is living one day at a time. There are days when I feel as if I’m lost in a vast ocean, and I’m the only one without oars to help me find my way home.” 

 An overwhelming desire to never let Ivy go causes fear to spike through my veins and around my heart. For the first time in my life, I want to protect someone other than myself and my family. Ivy means something to me, and it happened all too quickly, but could she be with someone as broken as me?