Cole
When I walk out, I take big breaths of fresh air. Fuck, what the hell was that? I should have left hours ago. Now I’m going home, alone, with my dick hard enough to pound nails. Shaking my head, I see Asher leaning against his car.
He and I go back around seventeen or eighteen years. We met in high school. He was a grade ahead of me, but we were both on the football team. After all the lifting and running I did, I was pretty big for my age. At one of our first practices, he made a point of pounding me into the ground after I made a catch. I let him think he got one over on me…until the following practice when I laid his ass out. While he scowled at me from the ground, I asked if we were even or if we were going to be doing this the whole season. He gave me a smile and held up his hand for me to help him. We’ve been like brothers ever since.
“Seeing that you are out here alone, I guess she turned you down?”
“Fuck you, man. I didn’t even ask her anything. I just… Never mind.” The asshole actually laughs at me.
“Listen. Thanks for coming out with me tonight. That case is kicking my ass. I needed a fucking break.”
Asher Thompson is a police detective in the Narcotics division. I can always tell when he is on a big case because I won’t hear from him for weeks. When I finally do, all he wants to do is get drunk. He is a man of few words, but the ones he does say usually have a purpose. He doesn’t feel the need to have meaningless conversations. He says what he needs to, then he’s done.
He is one of the few people who know about my past and the hell I crawled out of. He’s never judged, never offered advice. He just listens. For that, I will always be grateful.
“No problem, man. After the shit week I’ve had, I needed this as much as you. I was happy to see Mick. He’s still an asshole, but it’s been too long.” Asher brought his brother-in-law, Mick, who is truly one of the funniest people I know and built like a brick shithouse. I believe he had a neck at some point in his life, but all the lifting has caused his head to just rest on top of his shoulders now.
Asher turns toward his car. “I almost forgot. Who was that hot little blonde who kept looking our way?”
“Jules.”
“What?”
“The hot little blonde… Her name is Jules. She’s J’s best friend.”
He nods. “Good to know.” With that, Asher gets into his car and gives me a wave as he pulls away from the sidewalk.
I turn to walk to my car when the club door bangs open and the girls start spilling out, heading toward the bus. I smile when I see J and Jules pulling and dragging other chicks up the bus steps. The things she does to me have my head spinning.
Knowing that the night is going to end with a cold shower and my hand is sad in so many ways. I shake my head and walk toward my car.
*
After a long night of tossing and turning, the gym seems to be the best way to work off some steam. I drop my bag off in the locker room and head for the gym floor. I look at the free weights. Thinking better of it, I head for the treadmill. I need to work through the shit in my head, and the best way for me to do that is to get lost in a few miles. Running has always been my escape.
I need to get J out of my head. I don’t know what it is about her. I wonder if it’s her “no bullshit” attitude, her stubbornness, her strength, or her ass. Jesus, that ass. The thoughts I’ve had about that ass. She’s sexy as hell, but doesn’t have a fucking clue. I’ve never seen anyone like her. The fact she’s a mechanic is sexy in itself. I never thought about a woman doing this job, but she does, and damn if she doesn’t do it fucking better than half the men I know. The way her fucking body fits perfectly against mine. The way she melted into that kiss at the hotel. Jesus, just thinking about it makes my dick hard.
I’m five miles in and haven’t worked through shit. There is something about her that just draws me in, but I know I’m no fucking good. Nobody wants a guy with the kind of baggage I have. I don’t have enough to offer her.
I need to forget about her. I’ve come this far without a woman. Yes, I’ve been with women, but I’ve never called one mine and am not about to fucking start now. I need to get laid. That has to be the problem. I don’t know why she has this hold over me, but maybe getting laid will get J off my fucking brain.
Hitting the six-mile mark, my music stops and the alarm goes off. I hit the button on the treadmill to start my cool down. Grabbing the bottom of my shirt, I pull it up and wipe off the sweat pouring down my face. I look into the mirror, seeing other people going through their workouts. I shake my head, looking back into my own eyes.
Christ, man, get a fucking grip. I am losing my shit over this. I’m starting to sound like a fucking pussy.
After a quick shower, I head back to my house. I have every intention of going out with the simple goal of getting laid…until I sit down on my fucking couch and can’t find the energy to actually go. Maybe tomorrow. Right now, all I can think about is hitting my mattress and passing out.
*
I hear his voice, soft and demanding. I squeeze my eyes shut and curl into a ball. If I can’t see him, he can’t see me. I feel the bed dip and know he’s here for me.
I can smell him—the alcohol on his breath, the cigarette smell on his clothes, the cologne that’s so strong, it gags me. I take deep breaths, no longer trying to hide the fact I was pretending to sleep. I try to swallow the bile rising in the back of my throat. He knows I’m awake. He always does.
I feel the bed shift as he moves closer. I try to push the moment, the shame, the pain out of my head. I know if I take it and stay silent, he’ll leave my sisters alone. He said so himself. If I do this, they are safe. I’m the big brother. It’s my job to protect them.
He rests his chin on my shoulder, his voice raspy in my ear. “You know why I’m here.”
I whimper. I hate showing any weakness in front of him because he uses that against me whenever he can.
He rubs his hand down my arm, pulling me onto my back. He moves to the end of my bed while unbuttoning his pants. He removes himself, stroking slowly, watching me as he grabs my ankle and slides me to the end of the mattress. I whimper again, slamming my eyes shut.
My dad died when I was six, and my mom met Stan when I was eleven. I thought I’d finally have someone to catch a football with, someone to take me to baseball games, someone to cheer in the stands at my games. I was so wrong. The day after they married, he came to my room for the first time, continuing for two years now.
I know my mom was struggling with me and Katy. It had been just the three of us for over five years. She worked two jobs just to make ends meet, and even that was a struggle. When she met Stan, things changed. She was able to quit her jobs and be that stay-at-home mom she always wanted to be. Not too long after they got married, Belle was born. It is my job to protect both Katy and Belle. I can’t let this happen to them.
I don’t know if my mom is oblivious or if she just lets him do this so she can have the life she thinks she deserves. I never make a sound, but I always pray she’ll open my bedroom door. It has never happened. I am all alone in my hell.
He lifts my hips off the bed to pull off my flannel pajama pants, tossing them to the floor. He flips me onto my stomach, pulling my knees up under me. His hand caresses my lower back. “Ready?” he asks. Like I can ever be ready for what he is about to do. I feel his length against my sensitive hole…
My eyes fly open.
I stare at the ceiling, breathing heavily, the comforter twisted in my fists. The sheets are soaked through with my sweat. I’m trembling uncontrollably. He’s not here. He can’t hurt me. He’s not here. He can’t hurt me. He’s not here. He can’t hurt me. I repeat it until the fog of the nightmare clears.
I squeeze my eyes shut, rubbing a hand over my face. Jesus, I haven’t had one of these nightmares in months. I turn my head to look at the green display of my alarm clock. 2:37 am. Fuck.
Throwing the covers back, I move to the side of the bed and sit up, putting my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands. Christ. Why now? After all this time, I thought I buried this shit. I can’t ever go back to that place.
Looking at my nightstand, I see my phone blinking. I look at the text message from Belle I must have missed earlier.
Lunch tomorrow?
Knowing she won’t see it until later, I message now before I forget.
Can’t. Working.
Within seconds, my phone beeps.
I won’t make it thru without u.
What the hell is she talking about? I flip through my apps on my phone to the calendar. Son of a bitch! Tomorrow is Katy’s anniversary. I can’t leave Belle alone to deal with this. I’ll figure out something.
Love you.
Love you, too, Monkey.
I throw my phone on the nightstand. I am so wrapped up in thoughts of J, I almost forgot one of the most important days in my life. I rub my face, feeling the sweat the nightmare left behind. I need a shower to wash away the thoughts of those horrible days.
Standing under the spray of the shower, my head resting on my forearms, the hot water beating on my back, I suddenly wonder why now, why tonight. Why is it suddenly shaking me to my core again? Today is the fourteenth anniversary of the day I lost my sister. Fourteen years ago, Katy put a gun to her head and ended her life.
The guilt I carry over it drowns me.
When I was fifteen, I started working out religiously. I would lift anything I could—logs, tires, anything I could get my hands on. I started running. It became an obsession. I knew if I was stronger, healthier, I could fight Stan off. When he came to my room one night and I knocked his ass to the floor with a right hook, I made sure he knew those nights were over. I was done. The repeated abuse was going to stop.
I didn’t realize that when I finally defended myself and stopped those horrific things from happening to me, all I did was push him into Katy’s room.
I was seventeen when I found my sister’s body behind our garage. She had cleaned her room, made her bed, and left a note on the nightstand. She went into the closet and took out the .45, ending the nightmare she was living. And it was all my fault.
I was supposed to protect her. I stopped being quiet. I stopped taking the pain. I might as well have pulled that trigger myself. Katy was dead, and I was to blame.
*
When I walk into the shop the next morning, I feel like shit. Irritable, tired, and just an outright asshole. I head for Darren’s office, hoping he isn’t going to be too pissed about me taking off at lunch. I hate having to explain why I need the time, hate the look of pity I always get.
When I get to the door, I hear Darren and Nancy in his office, yelling. I don’t know whether this this is a regular occurrence, but it has been happening a lot lately.
“Goddammit, Nan! That isn’t adding the fuck up!”
“Darren, I can see that. Look. If you go back six months, everything was dead on, then the discrepancies started happening.”
I knock on the door frame before I hear more of something I know I shouldn’t. “Darren, you got a minute?”
He looks up from where he is leaning over Nancy’s shoulder as she sits at his desk looking at the paperwork spread out all over. It almost looks…intimate. He steps back and waves me in. “What’s up, Cole?”
“I need to leave at lunch today. I’ve got a…a family thing. I’ll come in tonight to finish up the plow I’m working on, if that’s okay.”
Darren looks at me, absently stroking his goatee. “A family thing?”
Rubbing the back of my neck, I nod. “Yeah. It’s the anniversary of my sister’s death. My younger sister and I spend the day together.” Looking at him, I hope I don’t sound like a pussy. Catching Nancy’s eyes, I see them soften.
“Do what you need to, but we need to get that plow done. They have two others we need to look at before the snow starts to fly. Get what you can done this morning, then come back tonight. You have a key. If this shit doesn’t get done in the time frame I promised them, it’s your nuts.”
I nod. “Thanks, Darren.”
Did I just thank him for wanting to take my nuts? Jesus, I am really off my game today.