Scarred: A New Adult Romance (The Anderson Brothers Series Book 1) (20 page)

Something’s
on her mind, I can tell. I have to be careful. Gentle. I can’t send the wrong
signals. Smiling softly, I approach her. “What’s up?”

She
reaches out and takes my hands in hers, closes her eyes, and brings them to her
soft lips.

Whoa.

“I
don’t want to be up here alone,” she whispers, her warm breath caressing my
hands. But there’s a little hint of fear in that whisper, and I can’t ignore
it.

I
lick my lips.
Well this is … I don’t
know what it is.
I remember a time as a kid when I’d frequently sneak into
Kevin’s bed and sleep with him because I was so scared of sleeping alone, that
our dead father would come back to do bad things to me again. I trusted that
Kevin would protect me, just like he’d tried to before. “I’ll stay if you want
me to.”

She
nods slowly, and her eyelids flutter.

She’s thinking about it
again. I don’t want to see her cry again.
I pull one of my hands from hers and touch her chin,
tilting it up. “Hey. I told you—I
promised
you—no one will hurt you ever again.”

She
wipes a stray tear away. “Stay, please … please.” Another tear falls, and I
wipe it away with my thumb.

My
throat tightens. “I will.”

She
wraps her arms around me, resting her head on my chest.

I
slowly embrace her as well, my arms encircling her waist, my hands settling
just above her tailbone. Inhaling her scent, I catch a whiff of pears among the
soapy smell. Maybe she has pear body spray in her purse or something. “It’s
okay,” I whisper. “Everything’s okay.” I walk her to the bedside, and she lies
down. She nestles under the covers and huddles into a fetal position.

I
could use a good shower myself. Especially if I’m going to be in the same bed
with her. I hand her the teddy bear. “Hey, I really need a shower. Are you
going to be okay for like, five minutes?”

She
swallows and nods slowly, cuddling the bear close to her.

“Okay.
I’ll be right back, I promise.” I set her purse by the bed and hand her my
phone. “If anything happens, use my phone and call 9-1-1. Okay?”

She
remains silent, and I don’t say anything more.

I
jump in and out of the shower in record time, foregoing a shave, even though
I’m desperately in need of one.

It’s
nine o’clock by the time I’m back upstairs and in bed with her. I drape one arm
across her body. She’s so warm, her skin silky soft. Her ass presses against my
groin, and it’s too damn difficult to resist getting hard from it. I bunch the
sheets up between my groin and her ass so she doesn't feel it as much, rest my chin on her shoulder and listen
to her breathe.

“Are
you comfortable?” I ask.

She
holds my hand, brushing her lips across my fingers. “Mmm.”

I
sigh. “You’re a brave girl, you know that? Really brave.”

Her
body shudders, and I hear her sniffle. Is she crying again?

“Denise?”

“Why
me, Dominick? Why did this have to happen to me?”

“I’m
sorry. I really am. I know it’s none of my business what went on between you
two.”

“But
I’m glad you made it your business. I’m glad you were there. I’m glad you …
you … ” She presses my hand to her lips and sobs.

Hearing
her cry is just too much. She’s too beautiful—too strong—to be sad. My vision
blurs as my own tears well up, but I fight them back to keep them from falling.
I should tell her. Let her know how much
I understand what she’s going through.
“Denise, I … I have something to
tell you. Please don’t freak out afterward.”

Her
sobs are reduced to small sniffles. “What is it?”

I
swallow as I carefully go over my words. It’s now or never. These demons have
to come out. Licking my lips, I stare into her ebony eyes. “When I was twelve,
I was raped. By my father.”

Denise
sits up in bed and faces me, staring wide-eyed. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry,” she
says in short breaths, and another tear falls down her cheek.

I
sit up as well and take her hands in mine. Images of my past flood my mind. “It
was the most terrifying experience of my entire life.”

“Where
is your father now?” Denise asks.

I
scowl. “Dead. He committed suicide after we called the cops on him. He took the
easy way out. That coward. I still can’t find peace from it.”

“What
about Kevin? Did he—”

“No.
He was there when it happened, though. Tried to save me, but our father hit him
and then tried to cut his neck open with a box cutter. Kevin fought hard, but
Pops was too strong and ended up choking him out.” I think about all the
tattoos Kevin has. The ones that go along the left side of his neck hide the
permanent scars from that box cutter.

Denise
grimaces. “What about your mother?”

“She
lives down in Renton. She and Michael had gone out grocery shopping earlier
that day.”

“Who’s
Michael?”

“My
oldest brother,” I say through clenched teeth.

She
places her hand to her mouth. “Oh.” She blinks away more tears and then wraps
her arms around me and hugs tight. “Dominick, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

My body
tenses at her touch. I want to enjoy it, but the demons won’t let me. Fucking
demons. “You didn’t do anything, so stop apologizing. I wanted to tell you this
because I want you to know that I understand what you’re going through right
now. It’d be great if we could just forget about it. But things like this are
etched in your mind forever. It’s something not even a counselor can help you
get over.” I purse my lips and think about all those damned sessions Kevin and
I had to go through while we were in middle and high school. We both hated it
so much and were glad when we weren’t required to go to them any more. “We
can’t let the demons run our life, though. We have to be stronger. We have to
continue living our lives, finding that happiness, that peace, that balance
that will suppress those demons. I guess for me, the only way I can find peace
is to not let what happened to me happen to other people—like you.”

“I
understand, Dominick. I really do. Thank you so much for being there for me. I
owe you my life.”

I
shake my head. “No, you don’t owe me anything, and I’m not gonna ask for
anything in return. I want you to live your life and be happy. I miss your
smile.”

And
just like that, her smile returns. I can’t help but smile back.

“Thank
you, Dominick.” She leans over and kisses me on the cheek. It’s soft and brief,
but it still sends electric jolts of happiness throughout my body.

She
lies back down in a fetal position, and I fall in behind her. “Try to get some
sleep, okay?” I say. “I’ll be right here. You’re safe, I promise.”

She
says nothing, and I continue to listen to her breathing. It soon becomes slower
and more relaxed. Everything is so quiet, so peaceful, compared to last night
that my ears ring. And there’s no greater sound than Denise’s breathing with my
own heartbeat pounding steadily against her back.

Chapter 20

I wake up to the sound of my phone vibrating and realize
we are still lying in the same position, my arm still around her. My body’s so
stiff, I can barely move. Thank God it’s Sunday. Thoughts of Friday night’s
party still haunt me, and I don’t know what I’m going to tell Larry. The sound
of Denise’s steady breathing shakes me from my thoughts. I stare toward the
window. The first signs of daylight are starting to show between the blinds,
casting a dim, dark blue glow about the room.

With
Denise still asleep, I carefully slide my arm from around her and roll onto my
back. Bones pop and crack, and I groan. One of my arms is asleep for having
lain on it for so long. I fish for my phone on the floor and shut off the vibrating
alarm, catching a glimpse of the time. 7:30.
Oh yeah, I was gonna do her laundry.

I
slowly get out of bed, taking care not to wake her. I stretch, cracking more
bones. Retrieving my old clothes and Denise’s scrubs, I trudge out of the room
and downstairs to the laundry closet, which is adjacent to the kitchen. With
everyone still asleep, there’s a pleasant silence in the duplex as I toss
the clothes into the front-loader.

While
the clothes are going, I raid the fridge for eggs, bread, and the last of the
oranges. I frown, realizing it’s Chris’s turn to go grocery shopping again.

I
crack open two eggs in a frying pan and scramble them. I hope she doesn’t mind
scrambled eggs. Hell, I hope she even
likes
eggs. But it’s the thought that counts, right?

I
hear Chris’s door creak open but ignore it. I grab a plate from the pile of
clean dishes in the sink—thank God Chris
finally
did them—and dump the eggs onto it.

“Wow,
something smells good,” Chris says from the hall.

Footsteps
draw closer, and I spot a figure leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen.

“Dude!
Are you
cooking
now?”

I
give Chris a look. “You act like I’ve never cooked before.”

“Okay,
okay. So I
rarely
see you cook. Can’t
deny that you make a wicked chicken florentine.”

Maybe
one night I’ll invite Denise over and cook that for her. “By the way,” I say,
“it’s your turn to do the grocery shopping. Is Adri still here?”

“Yeah?
Why?”

“Good.
Then she can drive your sorry ass to the store.”

Chris
groans and carefully bangs the back of his head against the doorframe. “Fucking
A.”

I
rinse the orange and begin cutting it up into small slices. Denise would at
least eat the orange if she hates everything else, right? I mean, I haven’t met
a girl who didn’t like fruit.

“Hey,”
Chris says in a more serious tone, which makes me pause in my cutting. “So is
everything cool from last night? You know … ”

“Yeah,”
I say quickly. “Everything’s cool. She’s fine.”

“Good.”
Chris nods then pushes off the doorframe. “Okay, I’m going back to bed. It’s
too damn early. I don’t even know how you’re up this early. You’re weird, man.”

I
smirk. “I’m the best kind of weird.”

Returning
to my room, I find Denise sitting up in bed, flipping the pages of one of my
old issues of
Street Throttle Racer
.
Smiling, I sweep around to her bedside. She looks up at me with a start.

“Morning,”
I say. Then, skillfully holding the tray of breakfast on one palm like the
waiters do, I open the blinds with my other hand. Morning sunlight filters
through the window and casts over Denise’s squinty face.

“What
time is it?” she mumbles, shoving the magazine aside.

“It’s
early,” I say, then present the tray. “Made you breakfast.”

She
stares at the tray, her eyes slowly becoming less squinty, and she scoots
further back in bed until her back rests against the headboard. “You made this
for me?”

“Yup.”
I set the tray on her lap. “I hope it’s okay.”

She
beams. “‘Okay’? It’s amazing! I’ve never had a guy cook me breakfast in bed
before. It’s very sweet. Thank you.”

Yes!
I do a small fist-pump, and
she gives me an odd look, then breaks into laughter.

“You
know, you don’t have to try so hard to impress me.”

I
scratch the back of my head. “I’m not. I just felt like cooking something for
you. You know … since I went ahead and washed your clothes and stuff.”

“What!
But I told you I would do it.”

“Yeah,
I know. But it’s done now, and I cooked you breakfast as an apology.” I avert
my eyes.

She
snickers then bursts into laughter. “Oh my God, Dominick. Listen to us argue
over washing a pair of hospital scrubs.”

I
have a hard time keeping a straight face, too. “It’s the principle of the
thing.”

Rolling
her eyes, she skewers some eggs with her fork and then pops them in her mouth.
“Wow. You not only know
how
to cook,
you cook
well
! Definitely a
one-of-a-kind guy. Thank you again, Dominick.”

I
exhale, relieved. “Anytime. I’m glad you like it.” I sit on the edge of the bed
and watch her gobble more eggs and break off small pieces of toast. She looks
so cute when she eats. “So when did you want me to take you home today?”

Her
face falls. “I … I don’t know. I guess I should go back soon. Lauren’s
probably wondering what happened to me. I’ll call her later. It’s about time I
tell her what happened.”

I
swallow.
She doesn’t want to leave?
“All
right. Well, there’s no pressure, you know.”

There’s
an amused twinkle in her eye. “You’re not trying to kick me out, are you?”

“What?
No! Of course not. You can stay as long as you like.”
Forever, I hope.

She
chuckles and finishes her breakfast. She gulps down the glass of milk and
slides out of bed, tray in hand. “I’ll take this downstairs.”

I
swipe the tray from her. “Naw. I’ll do it. Go shower. Or go back to sleep. Or
simply laze around up here. You can find another shirt in my closet to change
into, if you want.”

She
gapes, and before I give her a chance to retort, I leave. Returning to the
kitchen, I wash the dishes, then transfer the wet laundry to the dryer. The
smell of the cooked eggs and toast still lingers in the kitchen, making me
hungry, so I whip up a plate of my own. I return to the living room with it and
plop down on the couch. Turning on the TV, I flip to the sports channel and
indulge in last night’s scores and highlights while I finish my breakfast. My
mind drifts. Tomorrow’s Monday, and if William ends up not coming to work, I
know I’m going to be the first person Frank and Larry ask.

I
take out my phone from my pocket and scroll through my contacts. Stopping at
Larry’s name, I stare at the number.

Maybe I should just get it
over with and tell him about Friday night.