Lethal Temptations (Tempted #5) (35 page)

I watched as she blinked and tried to mask the confusion in her eyes.

“Two months?”

“Yes, for two months I was Blackie’s girl,” I admitted. “No one knew and now I’m wondering if I imagined it all.”

“Lacey,” she started.

“Please, don’t. Don’t tell me it was wrong because it was the only thing right in my life,” I argued.

She closed her mouth and remained silent.

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” I said.

“Talking about it might help,” she replied. “Lacey, I can’t sit here and watch you suffer like this anymore. I can’t sit here and go through this again.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s like watching it happen all over again, only this time it’s my child I’m losing and I’ve already lost one,” she gasped, lifting her hand to cover her mouth as she shook her head. 

She knows.

She knows she’s stuck with the damaged kid.

Look at what you’re doing to her.

Look at her cry.

“What I’m trying to say is— ““What you’re trying to say is you think I’m crazy,” I rasped as I climbed out of the bed and stared back at her.

“No, Lacey, I’m not saying that at all,” she argued, getting out of the bed to quickly walk around it, grabbing a hold of my hands as her eyes pleaded with mine.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“I’m not crazy,” I insisted.

“No you’re not,” she agreed, through her tears.

“I’m going to be okay. I’m going to be fine,” I struggled. “I’m not like him. I’m just sad.”

“You’re just sad,” she repeated.

“I’ve been cooped up in this house too long and it’s getting to me,” I pulled my hands back and turned around, walked to my dresser and lifted my phone. “I need to be around other people. I need to live a little and I need to forget.”

“Lacey,” my mother tried.

“I’m fine mom,” I demanded, stepping back when she extended her hand to take mine. “Leave me be,” I warned.

She stared at me helplessly.

I remembered that look in her eyes.

It was there the day my brother died.

I closed my eyes, remembering my mother run down the street, seeing my father hold their lifeless son in his arms. She collapsed onto the ground and my father placed Jack’s body into her arms, allowing her to hold her baby one final time. I could still hear the cops trying to convince my parents to let him go and the shrill cry that escaped her mouth when they tried to take him from her. It was my father who wound up taking him from her arms and it was he who laid him on the gurney. They didn’t cover him like they do in the movies, they let his parents, our parents, see him one final time just as he looked when he slept instead of bringing a sheet up to cover his angelic face.

I opened my eyes as the tears streamed my cheeks.

I was the reason that day existed in our hearts.

I was the reason my mother lost her son.

I closed the distance between us and wrapped my arms tightly around her small frame.

“I’m okay, mom,” I cried. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

She needed for me to get it together.

She needed me to put my mask on.

She squeezed me tightly, and I heard her whimper against my shoulder.

“You’re okay,” she whispered. “You are stronger than you know.”

I pulled away, lifted my hands to her face and wiped away her tears and forced the smile she needed to see.

“I am strong,” I assured.

She searched my eyes and for the first time I wished I had her eyes and not my dad’s maybe then I’d be more convincing. Finally, she nodded, leaned forward and kissed my forehead.

It took a while for her to leave my room, afraid I’d switch masks, but I kept it together long enough to convince her I just needed a break. I called Daniela in front of her, even put the call on speaker, so she could listen and be at ease, knowing I was trying to put one foot in front of the other. When she finally left me alone I showered, threw something on and twisted my hair into a top knot. I could still see the concern etched across her features when I went downstairs to say goodbye.

If she thought she’d succeed she probably would’ve tied me to the chair and not let me leave.

I met Daniela at the Dunkin Donuts on 86
^th
street, ordered an iced coffee and pretended to listen as she rambled on about her birthday. Her birthday was Monday, but she wanted to celebrate tonight since it was Saturday night. One of the guys in Noah’s fraternity had a hook with Kettle Black in Bay Ridge and promised to get us in without I.D.’s.

“You’re going to come aren’t you?”

I didn’t want to.

I wanted to go back to bed but, that wasn’t an option with my mother suspiciously watching me—looking for signs I was more my father’s daughter then hers. So, I decided to keep my mask on and be the happy-go-lucky girl everyone thinks I have the ability to be.

“Yes, I’ll be there,” I promised, taking a sip of my coffee as I turned my head toward the window.

My eyes zeroed in on the Harley across the street and for a moment I assumed it was Mack’s. That guy was a permanent fixture in my life and has been camped out at my mother’s house for the last month. My mom brings him coffee in the morning before she goes to work.

Yeah, she does.

He even changed my stepfather’s tire the other day.

One big happy family.

“It’s going to be so much fun,” Daniela beamed. “Now, I have to figure out what to wear.”

My fake smile diminished as I continued to stare out the window and spotted Blackie walking out of the liquor store across the street. He straddled his bike and then his head turned and our eyes locked.

I saw him.

He saw me.

Another stolen moment to add to the story.

He flipped his sunglasses down and I knew even with the tinted glass over his eyes he was still watching me but then he turned his head and pretended like he never saw me.

Like I never existed.

I watched him peel out of the spot and speed away.

“What do you think?”

I think I lost my fucking mind.

I glanced back at Daniela.

“I’ve got to go,” I said, standing up. “You’re going to pick me up at nine right?”

“Yes,” she replied, confused.

“Okay, I’ll be ready.” I promised, before I grabbed my empty coffee cup and chucked it into the garbage. I gave my friend one last fake smile before leaving the coffee shop. I heard Mack’s engine before I even reached my car. I hope he’s ready to drive around in circles because I had no idea where I was headed but I was on a mission to find peace.

Or my mind.

Whichever.

I wasn’t picky.

An hour later, I pulled into Green-Wood cemetery. I wonder if I’m the only one who gravitates to this place hoping to find answers. I don’t know what it is, but when I’m here I’m almost as much at peace as the souls that call this place home.

I climbed the hill and glanced over my shoulder to see Mack bowing his head. He didn’t get off his bike, allowing me privacy for which I was grateful. I stared at the tombstone, ran my fingers over my brother’s name as I dropped to my knees.

“Hi, Jack,” I whispered as I glanced down at the Yankee cap resting in front of the stone. “I guess dad paid you a visit,” I murmured, tracing the N and the Y on the cap before I broke down in a fit of tears. I don’t remember ever crying as much as I did right then and there. It was as if all the tears I should’ve been crying over the last thirteen years emerged at that moment.

“I’m so sorry,” I sobbed. “It’s all my fault you’re here and not…doing what every other teenage boy is doing. This hat should be on top of your head, not resting on your grave. You should be here but you’re not because I didn’t do anything to help you. I stood there and watched you run into the street. Me! I did that! I’m the reason you wound up underneath a car and I’m the reason Mommy and Daddy don’t have their son. I’m the reason, Jack,” I cried.

“Lacey,” my father’s voice croaked.

I lifted my head and saw my father standing behind me. His hands were balled into fists and he kept them at his sides as he stared at me with an unspeakable amount of grief pouring from the depths of his dark, soulful eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I shrieked. “I’m so sorry, Daddy.” I dropped my head into my hands as my body writhed with sobs. I felt him drop onto the grass behind me before he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me against him, rocking me in his arms as he laid his chin on top of my head.

“Shh,” he whispered against my hair. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” he murmured.

“Not a damn thing,” he assured, his voice cracking as he spoke.

“It’s my fault. I should’ve called for help and I didn’t,”

“You were five years old Lacey,” he gritted, pulling back and turning my head so I could see his face. “You were just a baby yourself. It was my job…” he paused, his lower lip quivered as he fought to control his emotions. “…it was my job to protect your brother and watch after him,” he ground out. “Mine and only mine.”

He lifted his hand to his head.

“I wasn’t thinking straight,” he admitted.

“You couldn’t think straight,” I whispered.

“My maker…,” he started.

“…was speaking, and you had no choice but to listen,” I finished.

He stared at me speechless and I watched the man most people feared, the man who I thought was larger than life—I watched as a tear slid down his cheek.

“You had no control over what your head was forcing you to believe. The voice was so vivid, so real, you believed every word. It didn’t matter that your heart knew better, you weren’t the one in control anymore. You were a victim of a brutal attack of words that ripped apart your world and fed you straight to the devil. Maybe you tried to fight, wear your maker down, but you can only fight for so long, until you’re exhausted and you have no choice but to surrender.”

I stared at my father as he swiped his hands over his face and looked back at me with remorse. His apology for what his voice couldn’t bring himself to say.

He knew.

And I was the one to tell him.

I was the one to break the silence.

My
voice.

And not the voice of my maker.

“Lacey,” he croaked, reaching for me as I pushed off the grass and rose to my feet.

“I’m sorry you lost a son. I’m sorry you were left with me and I’m sorry I fell in love with your friend but like I can’t control my mind…I can’t control my heart.”

His face changed instantly. His eyes hardened and his jaw clenched.

“You what?”

“I fell in love with Blackie but you don’t have to get all bent out of shape about it because he doesn’t feel the same way. I should’ve listened to my maker, but I didn’t. She knew his loyalty was with you and not me. She knew he could never care for me the way I cared for him. She knew everything, but I tried to fight.” I paused, watching my father’s face contort with mixed emotions. “I surrender,” I whispered. “I’m ready to admit I’m crazy,”

He was on his feet in a flash, forcing me to blink and stare at him in shock as he grabbed my shoulders and leveled me with a stare.

“Don’t you dare,” he hissed. “You are not crazy,” he ordered. “You hear me? You are not crazy and don’t ever…,” he paused, shook my shoulders to drive his point home. “
Don’t you ever
let anyone tell you otherwise!”

He released his grip on me and took a step backward, pacing the small area in front of Jack’s grave.

“It’s not your fault,” I called out to him. “You didn’t do this to me.”

He turned around, and I peered into the eyes of the mentally ill man who tried so hard to escape his maker. I saw determination and anger fight to break through the sorrow and grief reflected in his eyes.

“Sure I did,” he rasped.

Freedom has a price.

The price of my freedom became my father’s torment.

I’m sorry, daddy.

I’m so very sorry.

Chapter Twenty-nine

I’ve lost one child.

Held him in my arms as his body turned cold.

Watched his Mama kiss him one final time.

Kissed his lips before they closed the coffin.

Had my brother’s hold me down so I wouldn’t follow his casket into the earth.

Burying your child, knowing your life goes on and his doesn’t is hell in its purest form.

I wake up each day and it’s the first thing on my mind.

Another day I’m here and he isn’t.

The day ends and I close my eyes only to see his face.

Since Jack Jr.’s death I have told myself there is no greater pain, nothing worse than knowing my illness and my pride is what took my son’s life.

But there is a pain that might not be greater but just as harsh and just as annihilating.

I didn’t see it coming, or maybe I chose not to see it. Who wants to believe that their child is sick? My ex-wife voiced her concerns months ago when I dropped Lacey off after that shit went down with Blackie but I ignored it.