My Sweet Demise (Demise #1) (23 page)

“I can’t stand men.” I cover my mouth with my hands, but I drop them, on a disparaging roll. “Men are everything I don’t trust. You’re all like my father. Lying, cheating, unfaithful, and unreliable bastards!” I shove at Kent. “How could he treat us like that? How could he leave us hungry for drugs? How could he come home smelling like other women and how could Mom let him come back over and over again?” I don’t realize I’m crying until Kent pulls me into his arms. “Let me go. I have to go.”

He holds me tighter. “You’re staying right here. With me.”

I feel trapped. I try to fight against him but his arms are metal bindings holding me in place. “Let me go.” I know Kent’s not going to let me go. I don’t understand why. Men let women go all the time. They let us go when we need them the most.

Trust is a brittle thing. It is a special delicate gift. Not everyone appreciates it. Some destroy it, taking their time ruining it for everyone else. Once it is gone it’s almost impossible to get back.

“I’m going to be the one man you trust. One month is all I need. Can you do that for me?”

“I can try.”

“Don’t think too hard.” He kisses me softly and then puts his hand over my heart. “Use this. This understands what’s happening. It’s responsible for this.”

His words are a balm. I relax.

“Good girl. Are you hungry? We can go get something to eat?”

I shrug.

“We’ll go eat. I need to get out of this mess anyway. You mind going to the library with me when we’re done? I have an assignment for my accounting class and it’s due tonight.”

“You’re only doing it now?”

“I’m a last minute kind of guy.” He laughs at my expression. “It was a joke. Smile or I’ll tell you one of my famous knock-knock jokes.”

I recall his last knock-knock joke and that’s all it takes. I double over with laughter.

He frowns. “I didn’t even tell you one yet.”

I laugh harder.

“My knock-knock jokes are legendary. You sure you don’t want one?”

“Positive.”

He shakes his head at me. “Let’s go eat. I’m starving.”

The sun beats down on us as we head downstairs to my car.

“Where’s your bike?”

He shifts his backpack on his shoulder uncomfortably. “I can’t remember.”

“What do you mean you can’t remember?”

“You remember how you drove me home?” I nod. “Well, I had Zeke bring me to Oblivion and I picked it up from there and then I don’t remember where I ended up with it. I’ll probably have to report it stolen. My dad’s going to kick my ass.”

“How are you going to get to school tonight?”

“Her name is Raina and she has the most stunning eyes I’ve ever seen.”

“I’ve never met her.”

He grins at me. “She’s special. A little psycho at times, but I think it comes with having a vagina.”

“I’m sure she’d resent that.”

“How would you know? You’ve never met her.”

I roll my eyes at him. “How’d you meet her?”

“She came over one day looking for an apartment. I was hoping for a cool-ass dude I could get drunk with and chase girls with. But this gorgeous blonde showed up on my doorstep with an adorable pouty face and something told me to give her a shot. I don’t usually listen to that part of my brain. But I listened this one time and I’m so glad I did. You want to know why?”

“Why?” I ask breathlessly.

“Because she’s giving me a ride to school.” He grins down at me.

I laugh in disbelief and shove him. He shoves me back. Soon we’re having a shoving match in the parking lot and my laughter is sweet and new.

Raising my hands in surrender, I relent. “I give up.”

“Loser.” He shoves me softly one more time and then winks.

When we get to my car I take my keys out of my purse and hand them to him. He opens my door for me.

“How gentlemanly,” I compliment.

“Not a word usually used to describe me.”

“Whose fault is that?”

“I wasn’t the one describing me.” He closes my door and walks around front, sitting down and adjusting the driver’s seat to accommodate his height.

I can’t help feeling like the seat is the least of it. He’s changing things about my life, making room within my walls. He’s carving out a piece and I have to trust he won’t destroy the entire thing.

I take a deep breath and think for the millionth time what I’m doing as he drives. He can make me feel so good in one moment and then so unsure in another.

“You better not be doing what I think you’re doing.” He cuts the engine at a pancake house. “Look at me.”

I do.

He reaches over and touches my face with the back of his knuckles. “Remember who I am.”

I close my eyes and take another deep breath, conjuring up images of us wrapped around each other. I leave out the bad parts, the ones that want our end, and only focus on the parts that crave this possible beginning. “Let’s go eat.”

As we’re walking to the crowded pancake house Kent grabs my hand. “I haven’t held a girl’s hand in a long time.”

“How is it?”

“Satisfying,” he says. “Now everyone knows who you’re with.”

I walk closer to him and revel in the feeling of his hand wrapped around mine in public. It’s the first time I’ve held hands with a guy. It’s such a simple gesture. But inside it feels like so much more. Kent has gotten so many firsts from me I fear what might happen when this month is over.

When we enter the restaurant we wiggle in with everyone else waiting to be seated. We’re left standing. There aren’t any seats left. Families mingle, talking about football and the weather while their kids run around. Couples snuggle close to each other. Kent and I stay toward the back after giving the hostess his name. I watch one couple in particular. The way they look into each other’s eyes you know their love is real. I wonder if he makes her doubt everything she’s ever known.

Did he need a month?

I drop Kent’s hand and cross my arms over my chest. I can see him out the corner of my eye watching me, clearly concerned by my obvious mood change. But we’re in public and Kent can’t be himself. He sighs and leans against the wall.

“Kent! Table for two!” the hostess calls.

We’re seated in the busiest section. The waitress, a petite girl no older than eighteen, eyes Kent as we sit down to the overpowering smell of bacon and coffee permeating the restaurant.

“Good afternoon. Our special today,” she stutters, looking at him like he’s the special, “is buttermilk pancakes with honey butter and a side of thick-cut bacon. Can I start y’all off with some coffee or orange juice?”

He leans over to read her nametag. “I’d love a cup of coffee, Gabby.”

“Of course.” Gabby takes a moment to realize I am sitting across from him. “What can I get you?”

“I’ll have some tea. With honey,” I add sullenly.

When she’s gone I glare at him.

“You can’t cut every woman’s eyes out for noticing me.” He looks up from his menu, gaze amused.

“I don’t want to cut them out so much as claw at them.” I smile sweetly. “Could you lay off the flirting? It upsets me.”

I think he’ll say something Kent-like, something crass and rude, but he surprises me. “Won’t happen again. Tea? I didn’t take you as a tea kind of girl.”

“Becca makes me tea when I go off on the deep end. It’s the next best thing to having her here.”

He purses his lips at my comment. “You go off the deep end a lot?”

“I have the tendency.”

“Are you going off the deep end now?” He sighs when I look down and changes the topic. “Are you two close?”

“She’s all I have.”

“Where is she?”

“College in Los Angeles. For art. You think I’m bad now. You should’ve seen me after she left.” I laugh uncomfortably. “She doesn’t know how badly I lost it.”

“Lost it how?”

“I wasn’t used to being on my own. I had to learn it the hard way.”

“Do you have a difficult time being on your own?”

I’ve never stopped to think about it in-depth. “Becca’s all I have. I didn’t know who I was without her. I guess I had a problem with letting her go specifically. I can’t let you go once I love you. It hurts too much.” Our eyes lock.

He clears his throat. “Why did she leave you like that?”

“She deserved to go. She spent her life taking care of me. I didn’t want to be the reason she didn’t follow her dreams. It took me a while but eventually I didn’t have to lie too much on the phone.”

Our waitress comes over with a mug of coffee and a steaming cup of water with a tea bag on a plate. She places a container of golden honey in front of me and then eyes Kent like he’s the hive. He doesn’t notice this time. He’s too busy looking at me.

“What were you doing before you moved in with me?”

I wonder why he sounds accusing as I dunk my teabag, watching the tan swirls discolor the water. “Nothing.”

“You didn’t go to parties or hang out with friends?” He pauses in the middle of ripping open a sugar packet. “You did nothing?”

“Don’t make it sound so drab.”

“I’m not talking about drab. I’m talking about depression. Sounds like me after Willow left. I didn’t even want to breathe.”

“I’m not depressed,” I growl.

“When’s the last time you had fun?” he wonders softly. “Honest, genuine, fun. Without thinking too hard? And I don’t count.”

I look down at my tea and pour my honey into it. “Never. I didn’t grow up with it. There was always something to worry about, which made me inherently uneasy. Becca found ways to have fun, but boys and alcohol weren’t my thing. So I stayed home and read a lot and promised myself I would never end up with my father. The promise consumed me. The older I got the more I realized all men were like him and it was safer to avoid them altogether.”

“But we’re not. You only think we are. You’ve convinced yourself of this. I’m not him. Yes, I’ve made mistakes, I don’t always do the right thing, and I’ve got my own shit to deal with, but that doesn’t make me him. You’re so worried about not being your parents you’re not allowing yourself to live.”

I simply stir my tea so I won’t cry. Still, some bitterness seeps through. “Aren’t you perceptive?”

“Don’t be like that.” He reaches for my hands but I hide them under the table. “You know if you want me to try, you have to try too.”

“I’m not depressed,” I insist. “I’m living. I’m alive, aren’t I?”

“I’m not living right now and I’m alive. I can admit that. The most I’ve lived in the past year is when I’m with you. When I’m around you, Rain, I want to live.”

I put my hands back on top of the table and he takes them in his, my answer clear. He entangles our fingers together and leans forward to kiss our conjoined hands, eyes sucking the life out of me.
Take it.

“Ahem,” the waitress clears her throat. “Would you like to order?”

“We’ll have two specials,” he informs her, only looking at me.

“That’s all?” she asks, disappointed.

“That’s it,” I answer, looking only at him.

She leaves us without another word.

“I want to try,” I promise him. “I can’t erase my past or my way of thinking at the drop of a dime.”

“You see my problem?”

Who knew Kent and I were having the same issue?

“I want you to have fun. What’s something you’ve always wanted to do? Or somewhere you’ve wanted to go?”

“Why? Are you going to take me on a date?”

He holds my gaze boldly. “I would love to.”

I try, I really do, but his words get to me. I look down at our hands. “I’ve never been on one.”

“Why am I not surprised? You have sex with me before we go on a date? That’s a little backwards. We should have waited.”

For some reason his words amuse me. “Is Kent Nicholson regretting sex?”

“Kent Nicholson is regretting giving you a reason to fear me.”

“I don’t regret having sex with you. I regret that I wanted it. Wanting it is what’s going to hurt me later.”

“You’re allowed to want things in life. You’re allowed to take risks that might not pan out. That’s what makes it beautiful. You don’t always have to do things because it corresponds with what you think life should be.”

I look away and extract my hands from his. “That’s easy for you to say. Your outlook wasn’t driven home since birth.”

He reaches over and grabs my hands. “Stop taking your hands away,” he warns icily. “These are my hands now.”

Kent is forcing me out of my comfort zone. “Then these are mine.” I tighten my hold.

He smiles.

I watch that smile. His lips stretch over his teeth and his eyes gleam in the restaurant’s warm lighting. My breath hitches and I want him right now. Sore or not. I am losing it. Or I already lost it. Either way I’m looking for the pieces.

My phone chimes in my purse, freeing me. I find an unsettling text from Becca.