“Bullet! Who’s the girl on your arm tonight?” the same voice called.
I hated to admit when Coach was right, but seeing as I was at this moment being recognized for my extra-curricular activities instead of my achievements in the pool, yeah, I was struggling to find that leg to stand on. At least I had an easy fix for it. Professional smile plastered on my face, I reached behind me and plucked Darcy out of the crush of people. “This is my girlfriend,” I announced, enunciating each word. “Darcy Rowsthorn. High school sweetheart. We reconnected recently and are dating exclusively.” The emphasis on exclusivity may have been a bit much, but with her attempted date still fresh in my mind, I didn’t want to take chances. Darcy’s eyes were peeled wide with a kind of shock that showed this kind of journalism was completely foreign to her education and experience so far.
“Kiss her,” someone called from over to the right.Rude not to, I thought. With a grin I knew damn well was more than a little wicked, I bent over Darcy and brought my mouth to hers. Her body was rigid in my arms, but her lips… her lips were soft and sweet and as perfect as the first time I had touched them. The lights, the people, sound — all faded from my awareness. It was her and me, and everything was as it once had been. I sank into the moment with a kind of relief that should have scared the fuck out of me, but as it was, I felt like I had come home. Finally.
A slap to the shoulder knocked me out of my state of bliss, and the flash of cameras, thumping bass of whatever was playing inside, the smell of fresh sweat and the perfume Darcy had put on at the beginning of the night all came back in a rush.
“Break it up, lovebirds,” Cody joked, squeezing his hold on my shoulder before letting go. My lips spread in a way that barely contained the fizz in my gut, until I caught the look on Darcy’s face.
Oh, man. I’d fucked up.
* * *
The smellof smoke hung in the air. Testament to the fact that you could, in fact, screw up a packet mix cake. Layla didn’t care, though. She grinned widely and snuck her finger into the bowl as I tried to hand whip icing to cover up the worst of the damage. Mom sat quietly on a stool nearby watching us bicker good-naturedly. A rare smile out of place on her gaunt face.
How long could she live like this?
A low rumble out front sucked all the air from the room. None of us dared to breathe. Like deer alerted to the presence of a predator, we froze in a tableau of dread as the noise of the truck grew to a roar before it choked out a last splutter and fell silent. A door slammed heavily, and I knew all three of us tracked the weight and cadence of the footfalls over the front porch. Glass shattered, and deep, guttural curse words followed in its wake.Go, I mouthed at Layla, shooing her toward the back door. She knew the drill. All birthday plans were canceled, effective immediately. As she eased the back door open, Layla glanced over her shoulder first at Mom, then me. With a grim nod, I pressed my hand to my heart, then brought my fingertips to my lips. She mimicked the action quickly before slipping silently into the night. Away to the safety of our Aunt Molly’s house.
Alcohol and cigarette smoke preceded the bulk of the man who knocked up my mother twice before he decided he enjoyed knocking her around more.
The ever-present Pall Mall hung from thick lips, screwed up in a nasty sneer that would have been a dead giveaway for how he’d spent his evening, even without taking into account the weaving walk, glassy-eyed stare, and rosy flush to his cheeks. Mom, by comparison, had already checked out. Her eyes were more vacant than his as she perched, frozen, on her stool.
I prayed I could keep him from getting physical. I had a swim meet coming and I’d fielded more than one visit to the school counselor to explain bruises.
His head swung right and left, searching for anything out of place. A reason to blow his top. With a wicked glint, his eyes came to rest on the cake on the counter.
The scene slowed. Blink. He charged. Blink. I hit the floor. Blink. His fist reared back. Blink. Mom turned, and suddenly I was looking into hazel eyes. Darcy. Blink. It was my fist that flew toward her face.
I woke with a shout, sweat pouring down my forehead. A dream. Just a dream.
I flopped back into my sheets and scrubbed a palm down my face with a groan. It had been months since I last dreamed, and this was what my subconscious decided to throw up? Jesus. A glance at the clock told me there was thirty minutes left before I had to face the world. Not like sleep was going to be an option now. I was debating the merits of starting the coffee maker when my phone chimed beside me, politely announcing an incoming call. On a lunge I reached for the device, apology poised on my tongue in the hope I could pass it on to Darcy. Though it was ridiculous to apologize for a dream. Even more so when I had so much to apologize for in the waking world. She had been furious about the kiss. Despite having listened to her rules for our fake relationship with every intention of respecting them, I had to admit I hadn’t expected her to uphold them. No touching. No kissing. No dates. Huh. I’d kinda broken all three on the first night. No wonder she was pissed.
So yeah, I was all ready with the apology as I brought the phone into view… and had to recalibrate. It wasn’t my fake girlfriend. It was my sister.
“What’s wrong?” I asked by way of greeting as I connected the call.
“I called to ask that of you, actually. Everything okay?” Her voice was warm and slightly amused. Damn. I had done a lot of things wrong in my life, but protecting her, getting her out of that house, was definitely not one of them.
“How did you know?” I asked as I shuffled back to lean against the headboard. Stretching my legs out and crossing them at the ankle, I flexed and pointed my foot. Concentrating on the movement to give myself a little distance from a conversation I could already tell was going to get too deep. It always did with Layla.
“You made the paper. Wasn’t that your girl? The one that got away?”
I made a noncommittal noise. Lying never worked with her, but omission and non-verbal responses? Sometimes you got lucky.
“You had the dream again, didn’t you.”
Not a question.
“Kane. None of that was your fault. Hell, the only reason I made it to adulthood was because of you.”
“Not true. You survived because CPS finally did their job and placed you with Aunt Molly permanently.”
“I wish you’d come too.”
We’d had the same conversation too many times to count, and it always ended up the same way. We both knew I never could have left Mom in that house with the monster. She would have died years earlier if I hadn’t been there to protect her. Or at least pick up the pieces and make sure she didn’t stop breathing.
“The dream changed this time,” I blurted before I could talk myself out of it.
