Little Red (21 page)

The past few nights have been quiet.

Ethan’s shop has a huge project that they’ve just taken in and he is still at work,
leaving Trent on guard duty.

Today has been a good day with minimal sickness.

The twins love to keep very busy as the bubbles deep in my belly have been flipping,
flopping, and wiggling each time I sit still.

Because I’ve been so excited to finally feel movement from the twins, I have been
taking it easy today, sitting in the loft flipping through the pages of Ethan’s books.

Digging through the shelves, I managed to find a few books from his childhood that
had been gifts from his parents.

A few of them are old fairy tales that I grew up on myself.

I was flicking through the pages carefully when Trent’s voice snaps me back to reality

“Red.”

I sit up and place the book on the table in front of me.

“Sorry, I was just reading.”

He grins.

“Since Ethan is working late, I thought you may be hungry.” He runs a hand through
his hair, and he shifts from one foot to the other.

Of all the brothers, Trent is definitely the quiet one who loves to keep to himself

I shoot him a smile.

“Trent, did you make dinner?”

He gives me a sheepish little grin

“You didn’t have to do that.” I smile as I feel my cheeks flush with heat

“You have been here a month or so; I thought it was time that you try some real jambalaya.”

I take a moment to inhale the air and let the smell fill my nose.

I let out a little sigh.

“Is that what smells so good?”

He laughs.

“That would be honest to goodness jambalaya.”

I hurry to my feet and excitedly trail after him to the dining table which he already
has set.

Glasses have been filled with sweet tea, and bowls have been filled with jambalaya
which is making my stomach growl as I inhale the scent

“Trent,” I say, “this is really sweet.

Thank you so much.”

He smiles and pulls out a chair for me that I hurry to have a seat in.

Trent takes a seat across from me at the round, natural wood table that he and his
brothers built by hand

Before I can bring a spoonful to my mouth, Trent’s voice softens.

“Red.”

I look up and see his expression has completely changed.

His silver eyes are staring at me in such a way that I fight the urge to hug him.

“What’s wrong, Trent?”

He swallows hard as though he’s thinking about what to say.

He brings a hand up to run through his hair, and I catch on that this is his nervous
tick.

He lets out a long huff of air.

“How long have you had your night terrors?”

I stare at him a moment.

It is the first time since that night in the hotel back in Kentucky that anyone has
mentioned my night terrors

“I’m sorry,” he tells me.

“I shouldn’t be so nosey.”

I smile.

“It’s okay; I don’t mind talking about them.”

He gives me a relaxed and comforting grin.

“How old were you when they started?”

“The nightmares started when I was about fourteen,” I explain.

“By the time I was sixteen, they had escalated to the night terrors.” I look up to
see that he’s been ignoring his dinner to listen to me intently with sad silvery eyes.

“I thought I was crazy at first.

It felt as though I was stuck between a nightmare and reality, and for some reason,
when I did realize that it was all just a terrible dream, I couldn’t wake up.”

“What started them?” he asks

“Life, I guess,” I reply, remembering both my mother and my father.

“My dad was abusive.

My mom couldn’t take it, so she ended up killing him.” I let out a long sigh as I
vaguely remember the night that my father had beaten me; the moment that had lead
up to my mother killing him to protect me

Trent looks down.

“I’m sorry, Red; I didn’t mean to upset you.”

I shake my head.

“You didn’t.

Talking is supposed to help, right? It gets it out in the open and off your chest
and out of your head.”

He chuckles and gives me a little nod.

“What happened after that?”

“I had no family, so I became a ward of the state,” I explain.

“Given my dad’s past record with the police, they said my mom could appeal and stood
a chance at getting me back.”

The corners of his lips pull down and form a pitiful frown as he sighs.

“She didn’t get you back, did she?”

I give my head a shake and help myself to a drink of sweet tea to hopefully avoid
any pesky tears that may very well sneak up on me

“May I ask what happened?” he asks, finally having a bite of his own jambalaya

I take a long breath in as my memory flashes back to the day that I learned of my
mother’s death.

I was in foster, care and an officer had shown up at the front door.

At the time, I had no idea what that hat in his hand truly meant, but I found out
minutes later with my foster provider.

I remember the pain and realization of knowing that I would never see my mom again,
and that I would more than likely stay in foster care until I turned the legal age
of eighteen.

I take a breath; hold it a moment, and finally release it as the horrible memory of
that day creeps into my brain.

I feel the same anger and grief that I did the day I found out she’d been killed,
but today it feels much stronger.

“She was killed in prison.”

He looks down as sadness sweeps over his face.

“Then you stayed in foster care.”

I give him a silent nod

“And then you met the asshole,” he says

For some reason, I can’t fight off the little chuckle that escapes me.

Though I am deeply sorry for Josh’s demise, I can’t hide how I felt about him.

He’d hurt me repeatedly for years.

Being sorry for his death doesn’t change the fact that he was an asshole, and I find
it most difficult to forgive him for all the times that he hurt me.

I finally give Trent another nod, as this time I treat myself to a bite of his homemade
jambalaya

“I have night terrors, too,” Trent says, shocking me so much that that I nearly drop
my spoon in the bowl of jambalaya.

I stare at him and search for the right words to say.

I open my mouth to speak, and suddenly I can’t even force one simple word out.

Trent’s eyes glimmer just right as he moves under the dining room light and gives
me a slight nod.

“I’ve been having them since Elise died,” he explains as he places his elbows on the
table and rests his head in his hands.

“It’s the same every single time.”

“It should have never happened,” I find myself saying

“I’m constantly stuck in the nightmare of her last scream.

We went crazy.

We tried to send Ethan home, but the fact of the matter is, not only did my little
brother see our sister, his own twin, die, but he watched his brothers murder her
attackers.”

“I’m so sorry,” I say as I swallow my own tears

“I don’t want to be like this my whole life,” he says, looking up at me.

“The moon curse, the night terrors - I need some peace in my life.” He runs his hand
back and forth through his hair nervously as he lets out a huff of air

I give him an encouraging smile.

“You won’t be like this forever, Trent.

Curse or not, you are not the bad guy.”

“The moon curse could make anyone feel like the bad guy.

I feel like I’m the big bad wolf.” He frowns.

“We killed two men; our rage made us this way.” He shakes his head

“No one should live like this: being your own worst enemy.

We’re afraid to get close to women, afraid that we’ll hurt someone while in a rage;
we’re unstable half the time.

That’s why we run in the woods on the night of the full moon.

It keeps others safe from us.

However the curse works, it’s only other people that are at risk, not any of your
pack.” His silver eyes glaze over with sadness as he looks up at me.

I may have only known the Parkers for a couple of months or so, but I know that the
men are good with big hearts.

They are kind and never selfish.

It’s heartbreaking to see Trent, who, even at thirty-four years-old, is haunted by
both his past and his future

“Trent, do you do anything to help release your feelings?” I ask

“I draw,” he says quickly.

“Sometimes I paint, but it’s mostly just sketches.”

“Does it help you at all?” I ask

“Sometimes it does; sometimes it doesn’t.” he shrugs

I find myself at a loss for words.

His sad eyes meet mine as I see a few tears run down his cheeks.

He’s quick to rub at his eyes as I turn to my bowl of jambalaya and glass of sweet
tea and pretend that I didn’t see

I take a breath before finally speaking.

“You know, anytime you need to talk,” I say, “come find me.”

He gives me a large, wide smile.

“We weren’t always like this, you know? We grew up close and carefree,” he tells me.

“Aaron and Colt were the first set of twins, and then Eli came, and James a few years
after.

I was born, and then Ian.

Ian was barely two when Ethan and Elise were born.

Ethan is our baby brother, and he is thirty now.” He suddenly looks down, and I hear
him sigh.

“Elise would have been…”

His voice trails off, and it’s more than I can take.

I push myself from the table and move to Trent, whom I wrap my arms around, and he
pushes himself into me for a quick hug.

I let out a deep sigh as he pushes away and digs in the pocket of his blue jeans.

He retrieves his wallet and reaches inside, pulling out a folded piece of paper.

He carefully unfolds it, revealing an old and worn photograph.

He smiles and passes it to me for my inspection.

I look down and begin to study the crinkled up picture.

There in the photo are seven handsome, young men and one beautiful young lady.

I’m quick to find Ethan.

Before the curse, he had bright blue eyes.

He’s smiling wide; his build is smaller, and the scruff that I’ve grown to love is
replaced by a boyishly, smooth face

Trent lets out a little laugh.

“Ethan was barely sixteen.” He finally points down to the young woman.

“That’s Elise.”

I give him a smile as I take a moment to look at her.

Though she seems shorter than me, I can immediately see a slight resemblance.

She’s smiling through blue eyes, with pin straight brown hair that falls to her shoulders
and beautiful ivory skin

“Trent, I’m so sorry this happened,” I tell him.

“No one should every have to bury their little sister.”

He begins to nervously run his hand back and forth through his hair again when he
snaps his head up

“What’s wrong, Trent?” I hear Ethan as he walks closer to me to leave a kiss on my
cheek

Trent smirks as he hurries to take the photo and return it to the safety of his wallet.

He looks at me and smiles, and then looks to Ethan.

“I was just talking to my sister.”

I feel the need to swallow my tears as I feel my heart swell with happiness.

I’ve never been a sister before

5 weeks later

The June air is indescribably and wonderfully warm.

The feeling on my skin is so relaxing that I fight myself not to fall asleep.

My hands curve down the now protruding 20 weeks along baby bump as I coo softly to
them.

“I promise that you will have more than me.” I laugh.

“You already have much more than I started out with.” I can hear Aaron through the
open kitchen window.

He’s on “guard duty” today.

We’ve just finished lunch, and instead of my usual trudging up to the loft, I’ve asked
to lay in the back yard.

He was reluctant but agreed since the window and the door are wide open, and he can
easily see me if I need him.

I wiggle my bare feet in the soft grass and take a deep breath.

The sun feels so incredibly good and comforting.

I throw my arm over my eyes and sigh.

Even the smell is perfect, wafting up from the grass and flowers that I asked Ethan
to plant.

To me, even the sun is giving off a relaxing and warm smell

I suddenly find myself losing the fight to sleep as I become drowsier.

It’s then that I hear the feet on the steps.

Aaron.

But, they’re not normal footsteps.

They’re fast, pounding.

I move my arm and turn to try to look

“Red!” he yells.

Before I can even sit up, he scoops me into his arms, bounding for the house

“Aaron!” I yell.

“What the hell are you doing?”

I feel both my heart and his racing as he sits me on the couch and begins trotting
through the house, checking every door and every window