Blood and Sympathy (4 page)

"Alistair. If you don't shut up and fuck me
right now, I'm going to kick your ass."

He laughed. "So impatient."

He was about as romantic as a freaking fence post,
and when it came to foreplay, the word wasn't even in his vocabulary.
Thankfully, it didn't take much for me to be wet as water, and eager. "Alistair…"
I warned.

He grabbed my hips and thrust into me. I let out a
surprised gasp and braced myself, meeting his rhythm with my own frenzied need
to come. I reached beneath me and rubbed my clit while he rocked into me.

It didn't take me long to come, and Alistair,
never with much stamina, came within seconds of feeling me clench around him.

I collapsed against the seat while slowing my
breathing. He straightened and tucked himself back into his jeans. "Damn,
I needed that."

"Me, too."

He went around and got behind the wheel while I
got back into my clothes and we continued on our way to the party. Classy, I
know.

And that's about all I remember from that night. I
don't know how, but I managed to wake up the next morning in my own bed.
Sneaking out of the house was a bitch, but trying to sneak back in while drunk
was a nightmare.

Olivia quirked an eyebrow at me when I shuffled
into the kitchen in my robe, heading straight for the coffee pot. I scowled at
her. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

She shrugged and took a sip from her mug. "Oh
no reason. But for someone who went to bed early last night, you look pretty
hung over."

"That's ridiculous. I didn't sleep very well,
that's all." I swore she had a crystal ball, and got her kicks from spying
on me twenty-four seven.

I poured a cup of coffee and sat down across the
table from her. She smiled and pushed an envelope toward me. "This came
for you."

"He actually wrote back?" I ran my
fingernail under the sealed flap and pulled out the letter. I wasn't sure what
I expected our correspondence to consist of. I assumed he'd be dumber than a
brick and just as inarticulate. But I guess I'd been wrong about him.

"What does he have to say?" Miss Nosy
asked.

"Nothing much." Braden had my curiosity
piqued, but for some reason, I didn't think Olivia needed to know that.
"It's only like two lines. He says he's working to get his GED and he
asked about you. By name."

Her eyes went round and she said,
"What?"

"You must have left quite an impression on
him all those years ago." I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from
smiling at the horrified look on her face.
Score
. "I think I'll go
write him back."

I giggled to myself and left her gawking at me
while I went back up to my room to reply.

Dear Braden,

It was good to hear
from you again.

I will be glad to
graduate, that's for sure. Not too sure what I'm going to do about college,
yet. I might take a year off. I'm sure that won't make the reverend very happy,
though.

I bet your music boxes
are amazing. You must be pretty proud of them.

So, you're planning on
moving back to Hensteeth when you get out? I can't wait to get out of this town.
But, hey, to each his own, I guess. I bet Jeb will be happy to have an extra
hand around the marina. As you know it can get pretty busy around there during
the summer months.

What kind of girl do
you think I am that we wouldn't have anything in common? Is it because I'm a
preacher's daughter?

Olivia is in college.
One of her teachers is the reason I'm writing to you.

Your Uncle Jeb is a
great guy. What about your brother? Is he in WTJDC with you?

You mentioned you're
seventeen. Are you getting out when you're eighteen?

Thank you for writing.
Feel free to write again.

Do you have any
tattoos?

Sincerely,

Claire

Braden
Sayer

From where I stood, it looked like the dude they
called Ape had thrown the first punch. Everyone picked on Ape. It was because
he was huge for a kid his age. At only fourteen, he already weighed more than
two of me and was as solid as a linebacker for the NFL.

I wondered how long it was going to take before he
finally snapped. Most of the time he was docile and went out of his way to
avoid people, but that morning in gym class he lost his shit.

We were running laps around the tiled gymnasium
floor and someone, I think it was "Badass" Billy Hargrove, stuck his
foot out and tripped Ape. When he hit the ground, it reminded me of how the
earth would shake every time they used dynamite to blast at the rock quarry
near Devil's Fork Lake when I was a kid.

Time stopped as Ape grunted and pushed slowly to
his feet. Murder had colored his eyes blood red and he had his sights on Billy.

Tyler Mays and I exchanged nervous glances. "Fuck
a duck," he whispered, pulling me to the side of the room. He rubbed his
hands together, and a grin snaked across his scrawny face. "Stand back,
Sayer, this is fixin' to get ugly and I want a ringside seat. I've been waitin'
for someone to wipe the floor with that fucker Hargrove's ass for three years
now. Shit yeah!"

He was right. We'd all been hoping someone would
stand up to Billy, and as badly as I wanted to stick around and watch it
happen, I knew I had to get out of there. Getting caught up in any kind of
violent behavior, even if it included just watching, could get my early release
hearing pushed back. No effing way was that happening.

I was there long enough that I saw Ape connect one
of his mighty bearlike paws with the side of Billy's pockmarked face. Ape was
surprisingly agile on his feet and I knew Billy had two chances of survival.
The guards would intervene before Ape ripped his head off his shoulders, or
Billy would turn and run like a little girl. But I wasn't sticking around long
enough to find out.

Tyler's attention was one hundred percent on what
was about to go down and he didn't notice me as I slipped quietly out the side
door and jogged back to my room. I'd have to relive the smack-down through the
countless retellings I was sure to hear in the coming days, because lockdown
was a matter of seconds from happening, and I needed to be on my bunk reading
the latest letter from Claire when it did.

I'd probably already read it three times at least.
The scent of cherries had faded, but if I stuck it right beneath my nose and
inhaled while I closed my eyes, I could still smell her, and I'd be damned if
it didn't smell good enough to eat. I was embarrassed to say that just thinking
about it made my dick semi-hard, which sucked since I didn't even know her that
well. I felt like some kind of a pervert and privacy was something no one had, and
any beating off had to come under the covers at night. And it had to be quick--and
silent.

I yanked at my sweatpants and tried not to let my attention-starved
body think about something I'd never been a part of, except in my imagination.
I groaned and flopped onto my stomach in an effort to hide my painful boner. It
was all I could do to resist rubbing one off. Instead of fantasizing about her,
I replied to the woman who was unwittingly the cause of my painful erection.
What the hell was wrong with me? I hadn't seen Claire since before I was old
enough to think about girls
that way
. I was seriously fucked in the head
if I thought the reverend's daughter could ever want anything to do with me.

Dear Claire,

I enjoyed hearing from
you. Your letters are a pleasure to read.

If you decide to take
a year off and not go to college right after graduation, you might decide you
don't want to go at all. Sometimes it's better to grab the bull by the horns
and just do it. That's what Uncle Jeb always tells me. 

Folks seem to like my
music boxes. Working with wood was my way of focusing on something other than
the crap hand I'd been dealt. Then I figured out I was actually pretty good at
making things, so I kept at it. It brings me in a few extra bucks, and I enjoy
doing it so it's a win-win situation.

I'm honestly looking
forward to moving back to Hensteeth. If you've never had a choice about where
you live, Hensteeth wouldn't seem all that bad. Trust me; anything is better
than losing your freedom.

Jeb will be glad to
have an extra pair of hands around the marina, especially during the boating
season. I've always loved the water, so it will be a little like heaven on earth
for me, I'm sure.

I meant no disrespect
when I said we wouldn't have anything in common. Truth is, I don't care what
kind of girl you are; I enjoy getting your letters. What I meant to say was that
when I get back home you're not likely going to want to hang out with someone
who's spent all his growing years locked up in juvie.

It looks like I owe
Olivia a thank you, seeing as she's the reason you decided to write me.
J

My Uncle Jeb has been
my lifeboat many times over the years when it felt like my ship was about to
sink quicker than a canoe with a hole in it. My brother is here at WTJDC, but we
don't see each other much. He spends a lot of his time in trouble. Some people
aren't capable of learning from the error of their ways, I guess. We may look
alike, but trust me when I tell you, that's where all our similarities end.

I'm seventeen, and if
I'm lucky, my eighteenth birthday will be celebrated in Hensteeth. They're
thinking about letting me out of here on account of good behavior.

What do you do for fun
during the winter months? Do you ice skate? I used to be a pretty fair ice
skater back in the day. Ha ha!

That was a random
question, asking me if I have any tattoos. I suppose it's because I'm locked
up, but no, I don't have any. Some of the boys do, but it's against the rules.
I do plan to get one as soon as I get out though. What about you, do you have
any tattoos? You can send me a picture if you feel brave enough.

Sincerely,

Braden

Before I changed my mind about asking her for her
photo, I quickly folded the paper and stuffed it into the envelope. I'd give
the letter to Uncle Jeb this Sunday when he came for his visit, and ask him to
hand deliver it to her for me.

I hadn't mentioned to Uncle Jeb that I'd been writing
to the reverend's daughter. He was always supportive, but I didn't know whether
he'd approve of our exchanging letters. Near as I could tell, it was all
harmless fun, and it gave me something other than the sunrise to look forward
to each day.

Claire
Copeland

"Claire!" Olivia called. "Someone's
here to see you."

I wrinkled my nose and contemplated ignoring her.
I couldn't imagine who'd be stopping by on a Monday evening to see me, but I
knew if I didn't go downstairs and at least make an attempt at being sociable,
she'd pitch a fit about how I needed to try and be nicer to people.

Jeb Sayer stood in our living room, his hat in his
hands. He nodded and smiled in my direction. "Hello, Claire. I drove over
to see my nephew yesterday afternoon."

And you're telling me this why
? I wasn't
sure how to respond to that, so I didn't. He reached into his shirt pocket and
pulled out an envelope. "He asked me to bring this to you."

"Oh, Braden. Right. Thanks, Jeb." I gave
him a weak smile. For some reason, I felt heat creep into my cheeks.
"We're pen pals. It was Olivia's idea."

"He's a good kid. I 'spect you could do a lot
worse." He turned to leave and Olivia narrowed her eyes at me.

"Seems like a nice guy. Thanks, Jeb."

He nodded and turned to leave. "Tell your
daddy I said hello."

As soon as Jeb was out the door, Olivia put her
hands on her hips and stared pointedly in my direction.

"Why are you glaring at me? I thanked him for
bringing the letter to me. What more do you want from me?"

She rolled her eyes and said, "You act like
I'm forcing you to write Braden."

"You blackmailed me."

"I admit to doing that. But you've kept
writing to him, and I'm not making you do that," she said, flipping her
long hair over her shoulder. "Jeb's right, you know."

"About?"

"He's right that you could do a lot worse
than Braden Sayer. Take Alistair Anderson for instance. He's about as worthless
as they come," she said.

My mouth dropped open and the only snappy comeback
I could think of was, "Whatever, Olivia." I spun around and headed
back up to my room.

Yeah, I admit it, Alistair wasn't exactly somebody
I'd choose for my own daughter to date if I had one, but he was okay. If I
could keep him from passing out, he wasn't a half bad lay. Alistair wasn't
someone I intended to spend the rest of my life with. He was a diversion for
right now. Admittedly, if something better came along, I wouldn't feel any
obligation to keep doing him. In a town the size of Hensteeth, the pickings
were slim. I still had no intention of hooking up with Braden Sayer.

By definition, he was definitely a bad boy. But
there was something about him that had me acting a fool every time I got one of
his letters. I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to meet him face
to face. He seemed nice enough from the letters he'd written. For a brief
instant, I wondered what it would be like to taste his lips, feel his arms
around me, and his breath on my skin--which was crazy considering I hadn't seen
the boy since he was twelve. Maybe I was looking for someone to fix.

An involuntary shiver slithered up my spine and I
rubbed my arms.

Dear Braden,
I
wrote
.

It was nice hearing
from you. Your Uncle Jeb brought your letter by this afternoon after school.