Learning to Forgive (The Learning Series) (25 page)

“What?” I take a bite of the spicy concoction of rice, peppers, and crawfish tails.

“You want to sell it to me? But you made such a big fuckin deal about the damn thing.” He laughs.

“Well I don’t know the first thing about motorcycles or how to drive them. And the reason I made a big deal was because I was having a shitty day. Plus it was my brother’s and I didn’t expect someone else to be driving it when I returned to Mobile.” My smile falls as Benji and my past enters our conversation. I shake my head and look up to see Lyric watching me with inquisitive eyes. I decide to change the subject before he can ask me anything I’m not ready to answer. “So Mr. Devereux, I’ve heard of your big bad fighting skills in the ring. Why haven’t I seen it?”

“Big and bad huh? Who said that?”

“Just people at Jay’s. I’m sure none of them were right though. I haven’t seen you fight once, well, except that night.” I stop and look at him with wide eyes while heat travels up my neck. We haven’t discussed that night in the alley and what took place. I haven’t really thought too much about it. He was defending me, so it’s not like he did anything wrong. But I can’t help but picture how he didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger on both men.

He doesn’t seem affected by my question or my hesitation. “Well, I try to not fight in the ring anymore. But sometimes Ryan likes to brag and book a bout or two without my approval. He loves the ring and thinks it’s good for me. He likes to think he knows everything.” He shrugs. “Now, since you got to ask a question, it’s my turn.”

I take a deep breath to gain my courage. It doesn’t matter if I want to continue this conversation. I know it’s inevitable. “Okay. Shoot.”

“Where did you go after you left Mobile?”

No lies, Blaire. No more lies.
I remind myself to be honest and straightforward. To keep my promise to myself, no matter how tempting it is to lie. Lies have caused nothing but trouble in my life. “Um, I traveled a lot. I met a girl a few years older than me outside of Vegas and we traveled together, actually. She was really smart and outgoing.”
And a thieving bitch.
But I keep that to myself.

“Then what made you come back?”

I shake my head no. “No way. You don’t get another question. It’s my turn.” He gives me that lopsided grin that always causes my stomach to flip and my head to spin. But I try to think of a question instead. “Do you have any family?”

He runs his hand through his dark hair and sits back casually. “Other than myself, there’s no one left. When I left, I never looked back. I have friends that are my family.”

Understanding of our connection and my pull toward him sets in. From that one statement, it makes sense why I feel the way I do. Safe and protected. How a home is supposed to feel. “No wonder we get along,” I say before I can stop myself. He quirks an eyebrow, waiting for clarification to my statement. “It seems we’re alike in that area. Ever since Benji, my brother, died, I don’t have anyone either. I guess like knows like after all.”

“I guess so.” He drums his fingers on the table just as the blonde waitress brings the check. She flutters her lashes and sticks out her ass just a little more as she talks to him. Then she bends down to whisper in his ear, and I can’t help but give a loud false laugh. Her moves are so obvious and annoying. Besides that, her actions cause that green snake to wrap around me. Jealousy really sucks. After she walks away, I catch Lyric watching me. “What’s so funny, Red?”

“Ha! I bet it’s hard looking so good to every woman. Having them pick you up wherever you go. That,” I nod my head in the direction of the waitress, “doesn’t happen to many people, you know. How do you hold girls off your man package all the time?” The beer has me feeling vocal. Or maybe it’s the jealousy. Either way, I can’t seem to shut up. “I’m sure women would cheat on their husbands for one night with you.”

“No, thanks. Married women are trouble. And don’t worry. The only girl I want to deliver my man package to is you. Besides that, she was asking for your number, not mine.”

My laughter ceases and my eyes widen with surprise.
“What?”
I ask in shock. I’m kind of flattered that some cute blonde wanted my number. “Really?”

“Nah. I’m joking. She really wanted my
man package
.” He laughs and dodges the balled napkin before he finishes off his beer.

“I’m sorry, dad. I won’t do it again. I promise.” I cry out, but he doesn’t listen and refuses to stop the beating. The car antenna slashes against my back, causing excruciating pain to radiate throughout my entire body. Tensing up only makes it worse, but I can’t stop. This time is worse than before. This time I’m scared for my life. I hear Benji yelling on the other side of the door. And I hate he’s listening. He went out to smoke a cigarette while I showered so we could leave before dad came home, but he got home earlier than usual.

We’ve been avoiding him since Benji found me that day. He makes sure wherever he goes that I’m with him or he stays home with me. But dad stepped through the front door before we could escape. And I’m paying for it.

“You think you’re so fucking smart, Blaire? You’re just a slut like your mother. A fucking slut who needs to learn her lesson.”

My cries for help are muffled as my face is shoved in my pillow and I hear a loud banging on the door. The impact is so hard it shakes walls. I’m praying Benji will hurry. I hear the unbuckling of his pants and my heart speeds up with fear. Then a loud crash shakes the bed and my dad’s weight is lifted off my bloody back. I take a much need breath when I lift my head and see Benji fighting my tormentor. They throw punch after punch as I huddle in the corner where my mattress meets the wall. Benji is on top of him, hitting him over and over, calling him hateful names. But before I can blink, dad grabs my lamp and slams it against Benji’s head, knocking him completely out. I cry out my brother’s name but he doesn’t stir. I’m too scared to move to check on him because once again, my nightmare stands and stalks in my direction.

I wake up saturated in sweat and tears from my nightmare. It’s fresh and I feel it to my core. Running to the bathroom, I hit my knees and vomit in the toilet. The burn of bile as my stomach tenses is nothing new to me. It’s been a while though. This is the first time I’ve had a nightmare since Lyric started sleeping with me. I was hopeful that it would be over. That he was my cure to be whole, but that’s just stupid. Having a gorgeous guy in bed with you doesn’t make it all go away. Nothing makes it all go away. So I vomit and retch, desperate to purge my body of my dark secret.

The feel of a cool cloth hits my neck and I know Lyric is witness to my humiliation. But he doesn’t say a word. He holds my hair back until I’m done. Then he helps me stand, but I can’t be touched right now so I slap his hands away.

“Don’t push me away, Red. Let me help.” He pleads but I shake my head. Touching anyone is off limits.

Guilt fills me so I refuse to look at him. I know he’s just trying to help, but I’m embarrassed and feel too disgusting. My body feels heavy so I lean on the tiled bathroom counter and look at my reflection. I try to remind myself that I’m not the same scared girl. But I see her. I see the blonde hair and dead eyes. Tears cause her to blur as my anger rises.

“Why did you have to yell for help?” I ask her. If she didn’t cry out, it wouldn’t have killed Benji. He wouldn’t have been tortured and turned to drugs for an escape. Fury surfaces as my heart breaks for my brother… for causing him his own nightmares he needed to escape from. My hands squeeze the counter edge, desperate to rid myself of these emotions, but I still feel as though I’m drowning in them. So I reach over and grab the first thing my hand wraps around before slamming it into the face of the girl who ruined her brother. My brother who won’t let me live in peace. “I hate you.” Glass shatters, but I can’t stop my actions. I need to make her pay for what she did.

“
Stop.”
My hand is halted after the deep command is yelled. I drop the object and watch in slow motion as it falls in the sink followed by red drops. Blood. I’m turned around and come face to face with Lyric. He grabs my face and brings himself to my level. His mouth is moving but it takes a minute to hear his words. “Baby? Can you hear me?” I nod my head as I blink away tears. “Good. I’m going to look at your hand, okay?” As he inspects it, I keep my eyes on his head and think of nothing, feel nothing. I’m numb and broken from that night.

He wraps a cloth around my palm before walking away. The bath water starts, and when Lyric comes back, he starts to undress me. Even though he’s seen me naked many times before, I feel exposed for some odd reason I feel as though he sees more than just my naked skin. This time, he sees my scars. The ones visible and the others that only I can see.

I start to shiver from the cold before he lifts me gently in his arms, carries me over to the large tub, and gently places my feet in the warm water. “Sit.” He commands when I just stand, staring in shock as he walks away. The frothy bubbles cocoon my aching body, and when I place my hand under the water, I yelp from the sting. Then I remember the wound on my hand. I look at my open palm and see the cut. It’s an inch long but not deep.

“Keep pressure on it.” Lyric kneels beside the large tub with a cup in one hand as well as a clean washcloth. “Lean back.” I do as he says the best I can without getting my hand wet. He fills the cup with water and pours it over my scalp until my hair is wet. The scent of jasmine fills the air when he squeezes shampoo in his palms and massages my scalp. His fingers gently dig into my hair and I start to relax. Afterwards, he once again uses the cup to rinse the pink tinged shampoo from my hair. I feel my nightmare flow away with every drop of dirty water that leaves my scalp.

Once he finishes my hair, he washes my back, shoulders, breasts, and all the way down to my feet. His touch and ministrations aren’t sexual this time but more like those of a caregiver. A deep sense of trust forms inside of me. Trust for this man in front of me on his knees. I feel no judgment from him for what just happened. I also feel he will never judge me for my mistakes. So my mouth starts to move, and for the first time, I tell my deepest, darkest sin.

“My mother died when my brother and I were ten. She was in a bad accident on her way home from choir practice. She played piano for our church.” I smile with the memory of her angelic voice teaching Benji and me to play multiple instruments and sing while growing up. Music has always made me feel closer to her.

“After that, our father started drinking. He would come home every day and drink. Eventually, he wasn’t the same. The alcohol morphed him into something more evil. Like a monster. He started yelling at us over the smallest things. If a cabinet door was left open. A light left on. Anything. My brother started to rebel and hangout with the bad kids at school just to escape. I didn’t want to make it worse, so I stayed home. I tried to take care of the house and keep us fed. Besides, I didn’t have a lot of friends while growing up. Benji was the social one between us.

“One night, Benji was gone and dad came home angry. I always tried to stay in my room when he was in one of his moods. I was sitting in front of my mom’s old vanity mirror brushing my hair and singing.” I look up at him. “I used to love my hair because it looked just like Mom’s. Long, thick, and pale blonde. I took extra good care of it because it was the last thing I had besides music to keep her memory alive.” I envision that day in my head while I continue to speak. I try to detach myself from that thirteen-year old girl, but I see what she saw that night and feel everything she felt. “When I looked up, I saw his reflection in my mirror. He was watching me while leaning against the door. I thought I’d done something wrong. It was the only time he’d ever approached my brother or me.”

The fear is fresh and my body starts to tremble. “I didn’t know if I was going to get yelled at or hit again, so I stood up and started apologizing for whatever it was. He didn’t say anything. Just came in and shut the door. Then he opened his arms for a hug. I was confused and stood frozen because he never showed affection to us. Not one time since mom died. I didn’t move until he yelled at me to do what I was told. I thought it was odd, but I did it anyway because I was scared. But… but deep down, I was excited. I wanted him to care for us like before.” Shame envelopes me for wanting his affection that night. “But when I was wrapped in his arms, he called me by my mom’s name, and no matter what I said, he didn’t care. Then… then…”

I lose it and break down. I can’t continue talking, but I can’t stop my mind from reliving that first time. The pain and confusion. When I fought, it was more brutal. He slapped me and called me a slut. When it was over, he told me what a good daughter I was. How my own mother would be proud that I was doing what I was supposed to do.

“Benji found me one night, the one night I fought back. He tried to keep me safe after that night. He couldn’t though. He couldn’t stop him, and when he did try, he suffered.” I wipe my tears with the back of my hand. “At times, he was forced to watch. I remember his eyes apologizing and pleading with me. I remember his tears. I ruined him because I fought back. He would have been fine if I’d never cried for help. He would still be here.”