What Lies Beneath (Count on Me Series #7) (7 page)

“It’s not your fault.”

“It’s not yours either.” She whispers as our eyes meet.

I may not agree with what she’s saying, but if it means getting the hell out of this bathroom and the memories that have now overtaken it—overtaken us, I’ll say whatever she needs to hear. I can’t let her fall any deeper into this. I’m sick enough inside knowing that it touched her at all.

She was never supposed to know any of this.

“I think we’ve had enough of the journal for one night.”

With the slight nod of her head, her body falls into line with mine as I turn and head for the door. The second we make our way through, allowing myself the brief luxury of inhaling the air deeper than I think I ever have before.

What was in my journal. What brought me to the bathroom, and every bit of what happened in there, it has to stay there. I have to lock it away.

Remember her earlier words.

We’re not those people anymore.

“Kay?” she asks softly as we near the door to our room. My name on her lips causing me to pause mid step.

“Yeah?”

“Will you do something for me?”

This girl. When is she going to learn that I’ll do anything for her? That all she has to do is ask and it’s hers?

“Anything.”

Slipping her hand out of mine and taking a step back, she closes her eyes, breathing in deep before exhaling and repeating the motion three more times before opening them. Her lips raising softly into a smile as she steps toward me. Her fingers sliding themselves under the ends of my shirt and lifting until working together, we’ve slipped it off and to the floor.

“Belle, what are you doing?”

Backing up again, she slowly walks in a circle around me, pausing in her second go around when she reaches my back. As her fingers trace all of the lines etched into my skin from the years of it being done, I shiver before tensing.

“What did you want me to do?” I repeat, hoping she’ll take the hint and put me out of my misery.

Slipping her hand through mine, she walks us into our bedroom and after closing the door behind us, motions to the bed.

“Sit.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see. Just please sit for me.”

When I do as she asks, she makes her way around the side, the bed dipping in when she climbs on top of it and moves over to where I’m sitting on the edge. Her face angled perfectly with the side of my neck as she places the softest of kisses on my skin, setting it ablaze.

Making me burn the way I did in the bathroom earlier, but for a completely different reason.

There’s no rage or hatred behind her touches or behind this burn. It’s all desire now.

All Belle.

“Every mark, every indent, and every scar you have. I’m going to kiss them all, Kay. Place my lips over every one and with the kiss, take away all of the pain associated with them so that only the feel of my lips, the love that I have for you, and the trust that we’ve built, remains.”

Closing my eyes as she begins, I fall into her words and let her do what she said.

I let her chase the darkness away.

Chapter Seven

“Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?” Belle asks for the hundredth time since I dropped it on her before breakfast.

“Yeah, baby. It’s the only way.”

I’m pretty positive it’s not the
only
way, but in order for me to be able to move past what happened last night, and from the guilt that’s been eating me alive, it’s the only way that works for me.

Owning my mistakes is not as hard as I thought it would be. I struggle with it only because I never should have made these mistakes in the first place. I feel bad for every single wrong turn I made. Every person I hurt. Every bit of hell I put them through with my words and physical actions.

It just sucks because you own it, but owning it in words never seems like enough.

It all comes down to what Belle told me before. Actions do speak louder than words, and I’m still struggling with what the right actions are to show that I really regret the things I did.

Sure, saying it won’t happen again and living my life in a way that proves it, should be enough, but it never is. Not for me. I want to find a way to make even more of an impact.

Belle says that’s what my major in school is about. That my impact is being made in wanting to work with kids like me. The ones that the world seems to forget about. The ones society wants to label and throw under a bus instead of working with for a better outcome.

I think she’s right. I just wish it didn’t take so damn long for the impact to be made. I want to race toward that end goal instead of baby stepping it the entire way the way it feels like I have been.

It began with Belle three years ago, and now it’s going to happen again with Sammy.

Even if it is ten years too late.

“What are you going to do if he slams the door in your face?” Belle asks, leaning back in her chair and bringing her mug of tea to her lips. “Or worse, he doesn’t even remember you?”

I’ve thought about that. Not remembering me would seem like the best possible outcome, but knowing that I’d be making him remember the shit I put him through in an effort to atone for my fucking sins, actually makes it the worst. I’d be bringing up things better left buried.

I’d almost welcome the slam of a door in my face against that.

“If he slams the door in my face, I knock again. I don’t stop knocking until I make him hear me out. I actually expect him to do that, Belle. Hell, I expect him to punch me. God knows I deserve it. Whatever his response is, I’ll handle it.”

Bringing the cup to her lips again, she seems to accept my answer as she takes another swallow before placing it back down onto the bar.

“Kay…I don’t want to make anything worse, but last night, something pretty big happened and I think we should probably talk about it before we go.”

“I know, and we will, I promise. Just not yet.”

“How are you feeling today?” she changes the subject.

“Healed.”

I’m pretty blunt with my words. Like, I’ll tell you straight up how I’m feeling and not give much thought to the actual words I’m using when I do it. But just like I’ve done in the past with her, I’ve done again with just the use of one word.

Her cheeks are heating up and changing shades.

Admitting that what she spent over two hours doing last night helped me heal is getting to her in the best possible way.

Placing a gentle kiss to the side of my face that’s desperately in need of shave, she leaves the moment where it is and switches topics.

“So after we get back from visiting Sam, I’m going to love you and leave you.”

“Why?”

“Mom called while you were in the shower. She needs someone to look after Tristan.”

Well, this is different. It’s not exactly the first time Belle has had to watch her brother since she moved in with me, but it is pretty rare. Usually when they’re together it’s because she’s the one wanting time with him and not because her mom needs help.

If there was ever a parent that needed a break, it’s definitely Grace Reagan.

Glad she’s finally taking it.

“What’s going on?”

“She’s got a date?”

“Say what?”

“Yeah. That’s what I said when she told me.” Belle laughs. “It blew my mind.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“A great thing. She’s been alone for too long.”

We don’t really talk about Belle’s dad. The same way I am about my own piece of shit father, she seems to be with her old man. It’s not a topic that comes up, unless it’s in passing. All I know for sure is that my girl made the choice years ago to distance herself from him for everyone’s sake and hasn’t looked back since.

“Alright, well why don’t you just bring him over here when we get back? It’s been awhile since he’s been over.”

“I thought about it, but didn’t want to push.” She admits softly and her words are like a punch to my gut. No matter what way I look at them, it all comes back on me.

Tristan’s lack of trust in me and my episode last night. They’re causing her to react in ways she shouldn’t have to.

“Belle, if this is about last—”

“It’s not.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m positive.”

“Then bring him over. Unless you just want to spend time alone with him. I’m good either way. You know how I feel about him.”

“I do.” She agrees. “I also know he feels the same.”

Jury is still out on that
. I disagree silently. Choosing instead to smile and accept her lips on mine before she busies herself making another tea. This one in her go mug.

Looks like Sammy’s not the only one I’ve got to get on my knees and beg forgiveness from today.

I’ve gotta figure out how to earn Tristan’s too.

*****

“Is that him?” Belle asks, tapping me on the shoulder before pointing out the window at the guy crossing the street in front of the car.

Taking him in the closer he gets to the car as he passes and catching the familiar freckles that Belle spoke of when we first got into it, I swallow the lump in my throat and nod.

“Yeah, it’s him.”

Hearing the pop of the seatbelt as she unclicks, she slips it off her and before I can call out and stop her, she’s pushing the door back and stepping out.

Crap.

I was hoping for a few extra minutes to get my shit together, but apparently that was asking too much.

Looks like this is happening now.

Making quick work of the belt, I get out of the car, slamming the door shut right at the moment she calls out to the man now climbing the stairs to head into the house.

“Sammy!”

Watching as the boy I once knew tenses and turns slowly around to face us, I reach out to take her hand, but she slips just out of my reach and makes her way toward him.

“Samuel.” I hear him reply evenly when I finally move to catch up. “No one calls me Sammy anymore.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Samuel.” Belle apologizes and with that simple move, just like she does with every person she’s been around, his shoulders relax and the faintest trace of a smile appears.

“It’s alright. I’m sorry. You seem to know my name, but I don’t know yours. Do we know each other?”

I could step in right now and take it from here, but before I can so much as get the words straight in my head, Belle is at it again.

“We did.” She tells him. “Before. My name is Isabelle.”

“Belle?” Samuel asks as recognition dawns in his eyes. All traces of his earlier reaction erased and the soft look I remember him having when we were kids taking its place.

“Yep, and this,” she pauses, pointing toward me with the brightest smile. “This is Kayden.”

There it is.

The reaction I was expecting.

It’s so subtle and quick that I don’t think Belle caught it, but the friendliness he may have had toward her is now replaced with something far different. Anger. Upset.

Fear.

Even after all these years and him moving away, my name still sparks a sliver of fear.

This sucks.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, but before either of us can answer, he asks another question and this one is even more expected than the first. “What are you doing here together?”

Seems little Sammy remembers exactly the way things were when he left town and Belle, god love her, is completely oblivious as her cheeks are again changing colors.

“We’re together.” I finally force out and pulling his attention away from Belle, he meets me head on. His stance hardening at the sound of my voice, but not cowering the way he used to so damn long ago.

Good for him. If anyone should cower, it should be me.

“What are you doing here?” he repeats.

“Making shit right. That is, if you’re willing to hear me out.”

“Why now?”

“Because my head was jammed too far up my ass back then to do it?” I admit honestly. 

If he thinks for a second that I’m going to make excuses for my behavior, he’s got another thing coming. Those days are over.

I can’t say I had a clue how this was going to go down when I decided I wanted to do it, but him laughing was definitely not part of the equation. Yet standing here now on his front lawn, the moment as tense as ever, that’s exactly what’s happening.

“Why are you laughing?” Belle asks, pulling the question straight out of my head.

“Well, I had to figure if the two of you were here together, it meant that the shit he said and did to you when we were kids was long since forgiven. Even more so if the two of you are actually dating, which by the way, I called when we were eight. Though, he was too pigheaded to believe me at the time.” He laughs again. “But the real reason I laughed is because of all the things I expected him to say to me when we came face to face again, that wasn’t it.”

Pigheaded.
Check.

Asshole.
Check.

Never apologizing for my actions.

What do you know, I’m three for three. He’s nailed me—at least the old me—spot on.

“There’s no excuse for the shit I did to you, Sam. There’s no excuse for the shit I did to anyone back then. I came here figuring I would explain to you what was going on at the time, how fucked up I was and that maybe, you’d see the honesty for yourself and believe me. But on the way over here, I realized that my shitty home life, my anger issues, and the crap I was going through, means absolute shit. I was a dick to you and I was an even bigger one for not owning up to that fact years ago. I’m sorry.”

“You
were
a dick. You were even worse with her, as I recall.” He shifts his attention away from me and back to Belle. “The thing is, the world is full of dicks, Kayden. And as much as I feared you then, as much as I still may fear you now because of what went down with us, I gotta say, you were good practice.”

“Excuse me?”

He can’t possibly mean what I think he means.

“I’m saying,” he pauses, running his hand down over his face and sighing. “I’m saying I forgive you. I mean, that is what you came here for, isn’t it? You want to make things right? Move on from the past?”