Текст книги "Deliver Her from Evil "
Автор книги: M. L. Steinbrunn
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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 14 страниц)
Campbell
My mind, my heart, screamed for a distraction. I needed something to pull me away from the pain of my loss.
I will be the first to admit I’ve struggled with Sharon’s death. I didn’t tell anyone about it, and allowed Evan and I to grieve alone, together. She had all of the funeral arrangements in place; all we did was make the announcement of her passing. It was a beautiful ceremony with so many people in attendance that there was no more room in the pews at the church. Previous foster children, who now had families of their own, community members, family, all there to celebrate how valuable her life was to them.
I listened as Evan spoke about his mother and how she loved so deeply and was adored by many. I listened and wished it to be over; I wanted to walk out of the church and be able to let that part of my life go. I wanted to not miss her, not love like I had, because I faced the same pain and grief I had when my parents died.
My wish didn’t come true.
So the distraction of my birthday was a diversion I gladly welcomed.
The girls planned such a nice birthday lunch for me, and I loved them for it. However, tonight has been what I have been most looking forward to. Lakin has been extremely persistent about spending time together, and I haven’t been strong enough to ward him off. The exact opposite, in fact. I find myself looking forward to our time together, even if it’s just as friends. I’ve kept my blossoming friendship with Lakin a secret, and I would love to share our relationship with the girls, but I know better. It would upset Brooks, it could make things awkward with Vivian, and it could strain those friendships. So for now, he stays a secret. Now more than ever, I need that friendship.
I wasn’t surprised when he demanded we spend time together on my birthday. I cleared my evening and he commandeered the available time.
When Lakin told me what we were doing tonight, I admit I was more than excited about it. I’ve only been bowling once in my life, the girls took me back in college, and I was worse than terrible. Thank goodness for the bumper pads that kept my granny-throws in the lane.
As horrible as I was, I had so much fun. I love getting to do things I didn’t get to as a kid. I never willingly let myself wallow in the fact I missed out. A childhood with sleepovers, birthday parties, and trips to the zoo isn’t what I had. So now, as an adult, it always feels extra good to make up for those things.
As I pull into the parking lot of the bowling alley, I park in the open space next to Lakin. He sees me, steps out of the car, and hustles to my spot to open my car door. My brain becomes mush and I have trouble concentrating for a moment. Lakin is a very attractive man, young, but attractive. I’ve managed to box him into a certain category, one with suits and business transactions. Tonight, when he stepped out of his car, he kicked through the square I pegged him into and now he stands before me, a man after my own heart.
Faded jeans hang on his hips, paired with a vintage t-shirt, which looks like it might have actually been at Woodstock, and a pair of black Converse. He reaches out his hand to help me out of the car and smiles when he notices my own purple Chuck Taylors.
“Cool shoes,” I slyly say as I take his hand. His strong grip feels nice wrapped around my fingers. I fight the urge to thread our fingers together and enjoy the idea of us as a couple.
“Shoes?” he asks dumbfounded. “I thought it would be the shirt that won you over. It took forever to find this Led Zeppelin shirt. I dressed up for your birthday.” He squeezes my hand and closes the door behind me.
“Don’t worry, I’m impressed by the shirt, too. You did well, Lakin,” I tell him, lightly pulling my hand away from his. I feel the loss instantly and regret the decision. Without skipping a beat, he places his hand at the small of my back and leads me into the bowling alley. It feels very couple-like, even though we are not a couple. If Brooks ever found out we were even hanging out as much as we do, he would be livid with Lakin. Since that first semester at college, Brooks has always been that older brother figure to me and he would expect the same treatment from Lakin. For us to venture into the realm of dating, would throw that relationship off kilter, and Brooks wouldn’t stand for it. For the sake of keeping the peace, I keep Lakin at a friendly, but appropriate, distance.
As soon as we pass through the entrance, I take a deep breath and let the stale beer and dirty shoes smell that’s wafting through the breeze from the ball return fans infiltrate my nose. I find it weird how bowling alleys have a specific odor to them. Jen would be throwing a fit at being subjected to such an aroma, but it brings a smile to my face. It’s the smell of people who are here to let off steam; it’s the smell of families who are out for a G-rated night on the town. Tonight is no different. Laughter occasionally interrupted by the sound of pins being knocked down, echoes through the place.
We gather our rented shoes, bowling balls, nachos, and sodas before finding our open lane.
“What are you staring at?” Lakin asks, noticing how I’ve centered my attention on the family one lane over. The children next to us squeal excitedly every time a pin falls. The parents provide high fives and hugs to each child as they return from their bowling attempt. I can’t pull my eyes away from the scene before me.
It’s pure bliss. It’s a family. Something I can’t remember ever being a part of, nor do I foresee ever having.
“I’m just glad we came here tonight,” I tell him as I finish lacing my red and brown leather bowling shoes. “Thank you for inviting me.”
“I can think of a million and a half ways you can repay me,” he says suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows and scooting closer to me on the bench.
“Oh my word. You’re terrible,” I chuckle, pushing him away from me. “Go bowl. You obviously have some pent up tension you need to let out.” He lets out a bellowing laugh and stands to retrieve his bowling ball.
“I guarantee bowling isn’t going to help with that.”
I pick up the nachos and shovel a chip into my mouth. “Well, if you keep it up, we won’t have to worry about anyone finding out about us hanging out. Brooks will let Jen neuter you, and then you can join us as one of the girls during our coffee get-togethers.”
He brings his hand up in surrender and laughs. “Mercy. I give up; even I know well enough to stay clear of Jen.”
Turning away from me, he slides his fingers into his bowling ball and hauls it up into position just in front of his face to line up his roll. Taking three long strides, he swings his arm back, and just as he slings it forward again to release it down the alley, I announce, “Then again, sex usually fixes most things.”
Startled, Lakin’s forward momentum stalls and he drops the bowling ball. It loudly crashes onto the pine floor and rolls into the gutter. It doesn’t even make it halfway down the lane before the ball stops completely. He spins around to look at me, and his stunned expression quickly morphs into a scowl.
I burst out laughing. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it,” I croak out between giggles.
“That’s not even fair. Mocking my weakness, have you no shame?” He plops down next to me and swipes the nachos from my hand. “You’ve lost your right to the nachos,” he pouts.
“Oh come on now. I’m only kidding. That was funny, you have to admit.” I try to cushion his souring mood and finally a small smile breaks through.
“I don’t think you should ever joke about having sex with me, Cam. It’s an experience that will certainly leave you with a smile, but no one will be laughing.” He glides his hand across my cheek and pulls me closer to him. I can feel his breath against my neck provoking a shiver that wakes all of my senses. I feel my breath catch and I’m waiting for his next words to rescue me.
“It’s your turn to bowl,” he murmurs. He then pulls away and pops a sloppy chip into his mouth, a wicked grin plastered across his face.
My stalled breathing pattern is now in overdrive and I feel like I may hyperventilate. I’m not sure if I’m turned on or angry. It’s entirely possible that I’m slightly both. My mind swirls as to what to say, how I should respond to recover.
“Sir? I brought your ball back,” the child from the nearby lane interrupts, handing Lakin the ball. He’s young, maybe six or seven, and I’m shocked he can even carry the bowling ball. “Don’t worry, mister, I couldn’t keep it in the lane when I first started either. I don’t think I was that bad, but just keep practicing and you’ll hit a pin.”
I get control of my breathing, thankful for this little guy’s interruption.
“Thanks, buddy, I’ll keep trying,” Lakin says, grasping onto the ball and shooting me an evil look. I cover my mouth to stifle the giggle that is attempting to break free.
The little boy returns to his parents and Lakin gives them a wave of appreciation, slight embarrassment written on his face.
Lakin Ryan is not used to losing or finding himself in compromising positions. He maintains control in all areas of his life, whether in the business world, when he’s practicing jujitsu, or his personal life. Our friendship tests those boundaries for him, which is why he’s so eager to sleep with me so he can place “us” in a familiar box. Someone to conquer and move on, which is why Brooks has put his foot down against any “us” happening.
I take a drink of my soda, allowing myself more time to collect myself, and then grab my blue bowling ball. I take my typical granny shot stance and heave the ball down the lane. It moves rather slowly, spinning and twirling between the guide arrows. Finally, when it reaches the pins, it slams into them, forcing a domino effect, which results in a strike. I whirl around and throw my arms in the air in excitement.
“Take that!” I shout. “I think I’m winning…by a lot, Mr. Ryan.” I jump around in what can only be referred to as an uncoordinated attempt at a victory dance.
“You know, I would gladly lose again if it meant I got the chance to witness whatever that spectacle of movement was,” he jokes.
“Jealousy is not a pretty shade on you,” I jest, smiling as confidently as I can. “You only wish you could see this body move.” My eyes widen at what just came out of my mouth. I was bold, it was inappropriate, and there is no way I could follow through on the invitation. I stammer to find the words to correct my blunder, but nothing comes to mind.
I feel his eyes scan over my body, carefully planning his reaction. He takes his sweet time, evaluating my body language, and I squirm under his scrutiny. I’m always calm and collected, but this man has me rattled; my insides shake and thunder from the nerves his presence provokes.
He finally places the chips on the bench and stands next to meet me on the wooden floor. My eyes search his, waiting for what, I don’t know, but the weight of the air between us is strangling me. I’m struggling and only his words will rescue me.
One hand snakes around my waist and delicately pulls me to him, while the other grabs the base of my neck. He inches closer to me causing my heart to pound in my chest.
“You don’t scare me, Campbell,” he whispers. “You don’t want to rock the boat, so you pretend this is nothing more than a friendship, but we both know that’s a lie.”
He kisses my cheek, slow and tender, and just when I think he might finally move his lips to mine to silence my aching misery, he pulls away from me.
“I’m here when you’re ready, but until then, I’m done chasing you, Cam.” He looks into my eyes, searching for a green light from me. I feel the pain in his voice as he delivers each word. He has launched the ball into my court and is waiting for me to hurl it back.
But I can’t. I stand motionless, unable to say the words he wants to hear.
The silence engulfs us; the tension increasing to an unbearable degree.
“That’s what I thought,” he says, nodding his head, his disappointment evident. He quickly grabs his shoes and walks to the parking lot, not even stopping to return his rentals.
I bite back the tears and swallow the throbbing knot in my throat. He’s right; it’s a lie. I’m a liar who has sacrificed a relationship with a man I could love more than the only family I have.
I watch him walk out the door, and as soon as it closes, a renegade tear escapes. I brush it away as hastily as it fell. Taking a deep breath to gather my emotions, I slide off my rental shoes and put my Converse back on. I don’t rush as I push the shoes back onto the counter nor when I walk to my car. Instead, I let the gravity of the evening, of our conversation, sink in.
I’ve lost Lakin.
Lakin
When I walk out of the bowling alley, I’m so pissed and so hurt that I can’t think straight. I don’t know where to go or who should have to pay for my misery, but I want someone to feel my wrath.
That’s not correct; I know exactly who should pay for my anger…Brooks. If he had just minded his own fucking business, if he had never said anything to Campbell, we would be a couple and we would be enjoying a nice evening celebrating her birthday.
I text Brooks and tell him to meet me at the gym to blow off steam. I figure a few rounds on the mats will make me feel slightly better; I don’t have many other options. Dressed and ready by the time Brooks pulls in, I bounce from one foot to the other to get the blood flowing and my body awake for the match. My hands are wrapped, I’m stretched, and I’m ready to provoke him into a dual of warriors.
Oblivious to my mood or my need to beat the shit out of him, he happily bounds across the parking lot to meet me for our bout. He’s dressed in his athletic clothes, so I just give him a head bob to acknowledge he’s here and wave him over to the mats.
“It’s been a while, Lakin. Is there a reason for our evening workout?” he asks cheerily, but I sense the suspicion in his voice.
“Like you said, it’s been a while. Besides, I needed to get out of the house.” My response is clipped; I’m here to use my fists, not words.
Brooks nods. “Yeah, me too. The kids are doing a Disney movie marathon, and I just cannot watch Sleeping Beauty anymore. Vivian can handle the crew.” He smiles devilishly as he stretches his legs and arms.
I barely hear his explanation as I focus on staying warm. Bouncing from side-to-side, I wait for his signal to begin. We are usually pretty evenly matched and I need to find an advantage to win. So instead of waiting for the customary handshake, as soon as he steps on the mat, I take that as the go-ahead. Lunging forward, I lift him off the mat and slam him to the ground. I instantly jump up and wait for him to recover, so I can attack again.
It temporarily knocks the wind out of him, but when he catches his breath, he shoots me a glare that shows his dissatisfaction with my unsportsmanlike conduct. As soon as his feet are solidly planted on the ground, I lunge again, pushing him until he trips and lands on the mat once again.
I hop up and he quickly follows suit. “I’m getting the feeling that this isn’t a friendly workout. Mind explaining what the fuck is going on and why you are insistent on putting me in my place?” he asks.
We circle around each other, both in a fighting stance, waiting for the other to pounce. “I don’t know what you mean, big brother,” I say coolly. “I’m just getting rid of the stress of the day.”
He stands straight up and wipes the sweat from his brow. “That’s how it’s going to be, huh?” he asks. I take a swing at him and he throws his forearm up to block it.
“I’ll take that as a yes then,” he says as he bends back down into a defensive position.
We continue to circle each other, taking turns throwing jabs or connecting roundhouse kicks. It isn’t long before we are both sweaty and breathing heavily…no one a clear winner.
“You know adults talk about their problems instead of using their fists,” he says between labored breaths.
“That’s rich coming from the man who used to use pussy as a pain reliever,” I spit out.
His eyes squint and his nostrils flare. I’ve struck a nerve; I knew it would, but I threw it out there anyway. The insult hangs in the air while Brooks weighs his options, fight or flight. If he’s the brother I grew up with, he’s going to charge, so I brace myself for the impact.
“Grow the fuck up, Lakin,” he snaps. “You know, this is exactly why I told Campbell to stay away from you, when she asked about you. You’re a child who has no concept of what it takes to love a woman properly.”
His reference to Campbell has me seeing red. I say nothing, but my body shakes with anger. How dare he think I couldn’t love her the way she should be loved? What a self-righteous asshole to put that shit on me.
After several moments of silence, he shakes his head and turns his body to walk off the mats. “That’s what I thought,” he mumbles.
A roar builds in my stomach, up into my chest, and rips out of my throat as I rush toward him. Hearing my bellow, he spins around and readies himself for the blow. We smash together, stumbling around the mat, each of us working to get the other in a headlock.
Our bodies slam to the ground, pain shoots through my shoulder from the landing. I let out a pained grunt, but I continue my battle.
“Get off me, you asshole!” Brooks grumbles as we roll around on the ground.
“Asshole? You don’t see me sticking my nose in other people’s lives and relationships. That dick move is all you, brother.” I’m able to wiggle on top of him and wrap my arm around his neck.
“What in the hell are you talking about?” he chokes out.
“Campbell, you prick,” I say as I squeeze as hard as I can. I know if I hold him like this for too long, he’ll pass out, so when I feel him tap my elbow, I loosen my grip and let him roll flat onto the mat.
He’s breathing hard to catch his breath; I can see his chest heave up and down with each inhale and exhale. I rest flat on my back and just stare at the water-stained ceiling tiles above us. My muscles feel strained, but the adrenaline rushing through my system is keeping any discomfort at bay.
“Damn it, Brooks, I like her. She makes me want to treat her properly. She makes me want what you have,” I sigh.
Neither one of us looks at each other; we just lie still, letting my words sink in.
“You don’t deserve her,” he finally says.
“I fucking know that, Brooks,” I resign. “But I want to.”
“And what happens when you fuck it up? I refuse to cut either one of you out of my life.”
I jump up, and Brooks slowly follows until we are both standing, squaring off once more. “Look, I get that you think of her as a little sister, man. I really do. You want to protect her because there isn’t anyone else in her life to do it, but she’s a grown woman. Don’t you think she should be able to make her own decision about me? Why ruin it before anything has even started?”
He looks me up and down, analyzing my body language. I feel like I’m bacterial goop under a microscope and with one word he’ll eradicate me. He exhales heavily and throws his hands in the air. “Fine. But if you hurt her, I’ll never forgive you.”
“Brooks, I don’t even know if she’ll want me. All I’m asking for is the opportunity to find out.”
He extends his hand for me to shake. “Then go find out,” he says as I reach for his hand.
I smile and he wraps his sweaty arm around my neck and tussles my hair the way he used to when we were kids. “You’re an asshole, don’t forget that,” I tell him.
“Noted.” He pushes me forward. “Now get the hell out of here.”
I step off the mat and head toward the locker room to shower, but then I turn back to Brooks, who is on his way out the front door. “Hey, Brooks, we’re good, right?” I holler across the gym.
He opens the glass door and stands in the entrance. He finally smiles and nods his head. “Yeah, we’re good,” he says before walking through the exit to his car. As soon as the door closes, I rush to the shower and wash the proof of my temper tantrum off my body. Knowing I have Brooks’ approval, I can’t get to Campbell fast enough.
I grab Italian takeout and a box of birthday cupcakes before rushing to Campbell’s apartment. As I pull up out front, I notice there are no lights on in her apartment. It’s not too terribly late. I would be surprised if she was asleep already, but I don’t want to wait for another time. I need to see her now.
I race up the stairs as quickly as possible with all of the food I’m carrying. My excitement prevents me from knocking lightly; instead, I’m pounding on her front door, willing her to open it and put me out of my misery. I alternate knocking with yelling her name and asking her to open the door with no avail.
“Dude, she’s obviously not home. Maybe try calling first,” the man across the hall says as he opens his door in his pajamas. “We, however, are home and would appreciate it if you took the racket someplace else.”
“Sorry, sir. I just wanted to make sure that if she was asleep I knocked loud enough to wake her,” I explain.
“Well, I think you knocked and yelled loud enough to wake the entire floor. I’m going to go out on limb and say she just isn’t home.”
I reach into my grocery bag to offer a cupcake as an apology, but before I can say anything, he slams the door, leaving me once again alone in the hallway. Feeling deflated and rejected, I get a better grip on my bags and begin my pathetic, lonely march back to my apartment. I’m no longer in a rush; my evening feels anti-climactic and a letdown.
Before walking into my building, I throw away the takeout food in the trash bin on the street. I’m no longer hungry, and besides, I’m sure it’s cold and stale. I keep the cupcakes though; I figure I can track Campbell down and give them to her tomorrow.
I take a deep, tired breath and push the button to take me to my loft. Closing my eyes, I run my fingers through my ragged hair and attempt to swallow my disappointment. What a shitty night.
The ding of the elevator chimes and the doors slide open prompting me to take a step toward my ride up. I slowly open my eyes and move to gain entry in to the elevator, but my body pauses and I drop the cupcakes onto the floor of the building foyer. I’m shocked at what I see and it freezes me in place.
