Trust in Us (Forbidden Love Book 1) Page 7

  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.

  I’ll be there. I didn’t realize the date.

  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.

  Chapter Eleven
<
br />   Cole

  Sitting in the restaurant waiting for Belle, I can’t help but think of Katy. She was adorable, two years younger and my partner in crime. She was this little tomboy running around with her hair always falling out of a ponytail, picking up worms, skipping rocks. If I was playing in the mud, so was she. If she wanted to play with her Barbies, I did that, too… even though I complained. With our mom working so much, we were always with a sitter, so Katy was all I had. She was my best friend.

  She was cute when she was little, but when she became a teenager, she was beautiful. She learned how to deal with her long dark hair, so it no longer escaped the grip of a ponytail holder. She had the clearest skin with freckles across her nose. Her blue eyes were so expressive, they gave away every thought she had. She hated how I could always tell when she was lying. When the boys started noticing just how beautiful she had become, I took my protector roll to a new level. She said she always felt like I hid her away, but I knew what those teenage boys were thinking. Hell, I was a horny teenage boy, and I’d be damned if they were going to have those same thoughts about my little sister.

  I thought I was protecting her by keeping her away from boys. Little did I know I kept her in with a monster. When I stood up for myself, I never thought Stan would move on to Katy. I thought boys were his thing, so she and Belle were safe. Thinking back, I knew when things changed, when the sparkle in her eyes dulled, when she began to shut me out, but in the moment, I just thought she was being a moody teenager. I kept my eye on Stan, but obviously not as closely as I thought I did. If she had just told me, if I had paid more attention, I wouldn’t be sitting here fourteen years later wishing I could change it all.

  Sitting at the table by the window, I watch Belle walk up. She looks so much like Katy, it sometimes hurts to look at her. Her long dark hair swings behind her as she walks to the door. I mask my expression as I stand to hug her and she throws her arms around my waist, holding on tightly. Belle always has a rough time on the anniversary. She idolized Katy. From the time she could walk, she followed her big sister around. Belle was so young when Katy died, she never completely understood what happened. Why I went away for a while, why Katy was dead, why her dad was beaten to within an inch of his life. When she was about sixteen, I sat her down and tried to explain everything. I told her what her father had done to me and Katy, telling her that he was the ultimate reason for Katy’s death. What I never could explain was why our mother took his side, why she chose to live with a child molester. She chose that monster over her children. Our mother blames me for Katy’s death, for making up “stories” about her husband. She doesn’t see what is right in front of her face. I saw my mom once while I sat in prison. She came to visit and said Stan needed her. Apparently, the beating I gave him had lasting effects. He needed her and we were grown. Just thinking of that woman pisses me off.

  The relationship I had with Belle was hard, but I fought to make it right between us. We are now tighter than ever. She understands why I did what I did.

  I run my hand over the back of her head, feeling her tremble. “Monkey…” She sniffs when she pulls her head away from my chest. “Oh, Monkey. It’s okay.” I wipe the tears falling from her red-rimmed eyes.

  When she takes the seat across from me, she wipes more tears away. “Why doesn’t this ever get any easier?”

  “I don’t know if it ever will.”

  “It’s been fourteen years. I’ve lived more of my life without her than I did with her, but it still feels like yesterday. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of her.”

  “I know. Me, too.”

  She cocks her head at me. “Cole, you are going to drown in that guilt you carry. It wasn’t your fault. It was Stan’s.” After Belle found out what her father had done, she refused to call him “Dad”. He was just Stan.

  She’s also refused to talk to our mother at all. Our aunt, Patty, our mother’s sister, came to visit me while I was in prison. I only remember seeing her a handful of times growing up. The relationship between my mom and her was never close. I would call it strained, at best. She wanted details, saying she followed the trial and wanted to know why, after everything, my mom supported Stan and not me. Everything about the abuse was put out there. Aunt Patty wanted answers. After she talked to me, I begged her to take Belle away from them. She promised she would. I had no idea how she was going to accomplish that, but she told me to trust her. I did. What other choice did I have? Aunt Patty confronted my mom and Stan, telling them she wanted Belle to come live with her. She used the excuse that Stan needed my mom’s extra attention, which she wouldn’t have if Belle was around. She agreed, handing her over when she was seven.

  Belle is now a psychology major at the university, specializing in the sexual abuse of children. Her hope is to help people like me and Katy before it’s too late. I tried to explain how hard the field was going to be, but she refused to listen to me. She’s working her internship at the Center for Abused Women and Children a couple towns over. She loves what she does and is making a difference. Seeing her now, I know she is so much stronger than I give her credit for.

  “It’s my cross to bear, Belle. Please, let’s not have this same argument again. I can’t fucking do it.” Picking up my menu, I hope she sees the subject is closed. Apparently, she doesn’t take the hint.

  “Cole, I love you. I have lost so much to this. I can’t lose you, too. Please, just consider talking to someone. I think it will help.”

  “Belle, damn it. That’s enough,” I warn in a harsh tone. We have been having this argument for years. I can’t see how sitting in someone’s posh office and telling them all my deep, dark secrets will help. This is my punishment for not being able to save Katy. I know that. I don’t deserve to live a better life.

  “Fine, but don’t think I will ever stop trying.”

  I nod, knowing she won’t ever let the subject drop completely. She will never stop trying to “fix” me.

  She smiles at me knowingly, picking up her menu. “All right. Tell me about this new job. What’s it like?”

  “It’s good. Most of the people are nice. It’s a good fit.” I really do love being at Z’s and think I fit in well.

  She looks up from the menu and raises an eyebrow. “Most of the people are nice?”

  Closing my menu and placing it on the table, I meet her stare. “Yeah. Darren, the owner, is a tough son of a bitch, but he’s a fair guy. The other mechanics are pretty cool. They do this big ‘family’ dinner thing at Darren’s house once a month. Everyone goes, bringing their kids and wives. They are like a tight family. Not really big on outsiders.”

  “Why? You are a great guy.” She looks around and lowers her voice. “Is it because you were in prison?”

  “Who knows? As long as I’m getting honest pay for the work I do, I can deal with it. It’s fine.”

  “But you’re my big brother. I hate that someone’s judging you for your past. You just did what you had to.”

  I reach for her hand. “Belle, look at me.” When her eyes meet mine, I see pity there. It pisses me off. That is the one thing I hate. I don’t want her feeling bad for me. She is right, though. I did what I had to do. If I had to do it all over again, I would. I would just do it a hell of a lot sooner. With my voice a little sharper, I say, “I am fine. Please, don’t waste your time worrying about me.”

  Thankfully, the waitress comes to take our orders and interrupts anything Belle is going to say.

  “How’s Aunt Patty?” I ask after the waitress walks away, folding my hands on the table.

  “Oh, you know Aunt Patty. She’s good. She just started seeing someone new.” Belle takes a sip of water. “I feel bad, though. I’m living a thousand miles away from her. I hope she’s not lonely.”

  I smile at her. This girl has a huge heart. “I’m sure Aunt Patty isn’t lonely. She has a steady stream of men after her weekly.”

  She laughs. “Cole, that’s not nice. I can’t think of the woman who raised me
like that. I know she’s only in her sixties and not dead, but the thought of her having boyfriends and sex…” She shakes her head and makes a face, “just grosses me out.”

  Patty is the town fox. She works at a chiropractor’s office and is very popular with the opposite sex. I am so grateful to her for stepping up and taking care of Belle, for visiting me, for getting me a better lawyer. She’s the mom I wish I had. When Belle went to live there, I was under the assumption our mom was going to take her back one day, but she never did. I always wondered if it was because she thought Stan really was guilty and this was for the best, or if she was just so damn self-absorbed, she didn’t have time to be a mother anymore. It may be the pessimist side of me, but I believed it to be the latter.