Blurred Truth (The Blurred Series Book 2) (15 page)

I see red.

Within a couple of seconds I’m behind the guy, yanking him away from my girl.

I have no idea what I do next. Everything happens on instinct. I know I land a good punch, but then Nate’s holding me back, trying to stop me from killing this guy who thought it was okay to touch what’s mine. That may sound misogynistic or just straight-up caveman, but I don’t care. Natalie’s mine, she always will be, and I’ll never let anyone lay a hand on her.

I can hear Natalie screaming at us to stop, but I can’t do anything with Nate holding me back by both arms. I’m surprised when I can’t seem to shake him. The bastard’s stronger than I thought. I guess all the manual labor he does day-in and day-out negates the need for him to hit the gym.

I see the asshole right himself and come at me, so I try to yell at Nate to let me go so I can at least defend myself. But luckily I don’t have to, as two bouncers appear out of the crowd, grabbing the guy and dragging him out of the club.

Good timing.

Relieved to have kept my face intact, I finally shake Nate off and give him a scowl.

“Way to have my back, man,” I say with ire.

“I didn’t want you doing something you’d regret. You never know who will press charges and who won’t, okay? Natalie would be devastated if you got arrested.”

“You don’t think she’d be devastated if I got my face pummeled beyond recognition, while her brother held me back and let it happen?” I say, straightening my shirt.

“I wouldn’t have let that happen, all right? I’m the sober one. Just calm down before Natty hears us arguing.”

Natalie.

Seeing her through the clearing crowd, I rush over to her and take her in my arms, then cup her face in my hands, looking into her eyes.

“Baby, are you okay?”

“I am now. Can we go home, please?” she asks, clutching my arms and breathing deeply.

I think we just barely avoided an anxiety attack, but I need to get her home.
Now.

“Of course, baby. Come on,” I say, grabbing her hand and leading her out of the bar, before a bouncer has the chance to throw me out for fighting.

“I hope you enjoyed your birthday, despite that jerk spilling his drink on you?” I ask after we enter my bedroom.

I cup Natalie’s face in my hands and kiss her lips, sweetly, silently apologizing for what happened back at the bar.

“I did, but don’t ever try and fight someone like that again. You scared the heck out of me,” she says, breaking the kiss.

“Sorry darlin’. I had to defend my woman’s honor.”

She rolls her eyes at that, making me smile.

“I hope Calli isn’t too upset with me for ruining her dress,” she grumbles regretfully, looking down at the stain and gently wiping at it with her fingers, regardless of how redundant the action is at this point.

“It wasn’t your fault, and I think I can save it. Take it off and I’ll go put it in to soak overnight.”

This isn’t a ploy to get her naked...really, it isn’t.

“Well, aren’t you just Mr. Domesticated,” she says with a surprised smile.

“That’s what happens when you don’t have a woman to take care of you for over five years,” I wink with that as she removes the dress.

I take a moment to appreciate the matching white, lace bra and panties she reveals, thankful that the dark-colored drink didn’t soak through and stain those, too. Not that it would matter, they’ll be off soon enough.

“Stay exactly like that. I’ll be back in a few minutes to remove the remaining items and give you another birthday gift.”

She laughs as I exit the room in a hurry.

I make quick work of filling the bathroom sink with warm water, adding a splash of bleach and mixing the liquids before adding the dress to soak.

When I get back to my bedroom, I’m confused for a moment, when I see Natalie isn’t there. Then I see the glow of my computer screen on the far side of the room.

I didn’t leave that on, did I?

A feeling of dread drops to the pit of my stomach before I even read what’s there.

To: BabyDove94 at 12:36am

Happy birthday x

“
Fuck!
Natty, I can explain!”

I dash from my room to hers, and I freeze when I see her. She’s motionless, just staring at her laptop screen and the message that she just sent from
Land
to herself.

From
me
.

How did I let this happen? She’s not supposed to find out like this.

I was supposed to sit her down and explain everything. Explain all my reasons.

When she looks at me, tears spill from her eyes and down her cheeks, and I feel my heart being ripped from its place in my chest. Not quickly; like a slow tearing of muscle and arteries.

“Baby, please let me explain,” I beg from just inside the doorway. Afraid that if I move, she’ll bolt.

When she says nothing to that, I slowly move closer to her, but she holds her hands up as a gesture for me to stop in my tracks, so I do.

I’ll do anything she wants.

“Don’t come near me,” she manages to croak out through her tears.

Tears caused by me.

“You lied to me. How could you do that?” she asks in devastation.

“No, I didn’t. I swear I’ve never lied to you, baby. Please, you have to believe me! Everything I’ve ever said to you is the truth.”

It is. I’ve kept this truth from her, but I never fabricated what I told her over the years. It was all real.
So
real.

“You led me to believe something that isn’t true...for five years! A lie by omission is still a lie,” she says, with anger now replacing the devastation.

“I didn’t mean for that to happen. Honestly, I didn’t, I-”

“You made a fool out of me!” she yells, cutting my words off mid-sentence.

“Please, Little Dove. Don’t do this. You’re the best part of my life...of
me
!” I try to explain, and I’m vaguely aware of a tear rolling down my cheek.

The first tear I’ve cried in over fourteen years.

“Don’t call me that! I don’t believe you. I don’t even know you,” she says through a ragged sob that rips my heart clean from my chest.

She frantically begins gathering clothes from her dresser, throwing them into an overnight bag. Where is she going to go?

Is she going to go to him? To Elliott?

“You’re going to go to him now, aren’t you? I’ve lost you,” I say with utter devastation in my tone.

“Yes,” she admits, wiping at her face to dry the ever-flowing tears that refuse to quit. “No,” she mutters in defeat, sitting on her bed.

It’s then that I realize she’s wearing one of my T-shirts.

I’ll never see her in my clothes again.

Does she not want to leave, or has no choice but to stay?

“Please, just stay and talk to me. I’ll explain everything, I swear,” I try again.

It looks as though a million thoughts are running through her mind at once, then suddenly she’s up and rushing past me. Following her, I realize she’s rushing to the bathroom to throw-up.

Jesus Christ. I did this to her.

I don’t deserve her.

Doing the only thing I can to help right now, I pull her hair back from her face, holding it in one hand and gently rubbing her back with the other, soothingly.

I start sobbing then. Straight-up ugly crying as I witness what I’ve done to the only girl I’ve ever loved. She can’t decide whether to wretch or cry once there’s nothing left in her stomach.

She looks so utterly exhausted.

Done.

She can barely keep her eyes open.

I gently lift her to her feet, and position her in front of the sink that’s not currently occupied by the soaking dress. The faint smell of bleach doing nothing for the nausea we’re both feeling.

After I have Natalie rinse with mouthwash, I lift her into my arms and carry her to bed, thankful that she doesn’t try to fight me.

Even though I know she probably wants me as far away as possible, I climb into bed behind her, pulling her back to my chest the way I have so many nights before. Although I know she’s almost falling asleep from sheer exhaustion, I can still feel her crying in my arms.

“I can’t see you anymore,” she manages through her tear-filled voice.

“Okay, Baby Dove, I’ll make sure you don’t have to, if that’s what you want,” I whisper in her ear; her words bringing a fresh wave of tears to my own eyes. “I’d do anything for you.”

I can find another place to stay for a while. Give her the space she needs to deal with what’s happened. Stay close by, so that when she’s ready to hear me out, I’ll be here.

Kissing her shoulder and neck lightly, as she falls into something like sleep, I can’t hold back how I feel anymore.

“I love you,” I whisper, but I’m not sure if she heard me. Maybe it would be better if she didn’t.

All the times I imagined saying those three words that I know she’s been longing to hear, I never imagined it would be like this.

* * *

A vibration in the pocket of my jeans wakes me some time in the night.

My phone.

Luckily it’s on silent, so it doesn’t wake up Natty.

Why am I still in my jeans?

Natty.

It hits me like a ten ton weight on my chest. My chest where my heart used to be. I suddenly remember everything and it leaves me breathless.

Destroyed.

I hold back the tears that threaten to start spilling again. I don’t want to wake up Natalie. She needs rest after everything I’ve put her through.

Carefully, and as quietly as possible, I scoot back and out of the bed, feeling the loss of Natalie’s warm body immediately.

After using the bathroom, I head into the living room, turning on a lamp and collapsing on the sofa, before pulling my phone from my pocket.

When I unlock the screen, I see there’s a text message from an unknown number. Confused, I quickly open the message to see who it is.

Unknown: Did you think you could hide from me forever, boy? I’m going to find you, and when I do, you’ll regret the day you double-crossed me.

The blood drains from my face when I realize who the message is from.

He’s going to find me, and I can’t be here when he does. He can’t find Natalie...or Nate.

Natalie.

The nightmare I had weeks ago floods my mind, and I realize I was right; It’s not over and nothing is fine.

I don’t think anything will be fine again.

Ryan

“Come here, baby. Momma wants a hug,” Momma says from where she sits on our old, stained couch in front of the coffee table, where her
medicine
sits alongside needles and spoons, and all the other things she uses before checking out of my life for hours - sometimes days - on end.

I don’t want to go to her. I used to long for her to show me affection. To tell me I’m a good boy and that she loves me. But now I know her affection is only manipulation. A tool to coerce me into doing what she needs to get her
medicine
.

I go to her, anyway, fooling myself that one day she’ll really love me because I always helped her get what she needed.

Holding me too tightly in her arms as we lay on the old green couch, her greasy, blonde hair tickles my cheek when she kisses it.

“I love you so much, Ry-Ry. Mr. Sykes is gonna be here soon. Will you be a good boy for Momma and go with him? Do as he says?”

“I don’t like Mr. Sykes, Momma. Please don’t make me go with him again. He makes me do things I’m not supposed to do,” I whine as she loosens her hold on me, her hands beginning to shake.

“You want to make me happy, right, Ryan? You want me to love you?” she asks, irritation beginning to lace her words.

“Yes.”

“Then when Mr. Sykes gets here, you’ll go with him. Do as he says. If you do a good job for Mr. Sykes, then I’ll love you, and your daddy won’t get angry like he did last time,” she explains matter-of-factly.

When I hear the knock at the door, my stomach rolls and tightens all at once, and I wonder what I’ll have to do for my mother’s love this time.

* * *

“Repeat the plan back to me, boy,” Mr. Sykes demands.

“I climb in the basement window, because I’m the only one small enough to do it. I go up to the ground floor and unlock the back door in the kitchen, because it’s the furthest entry point from the stairs. I keep watch at the bottom of the stairs until you and Mr. Terry give the signal that you’re done and it’s time to leave.”

“Good. And what do you do if you hear something upstairs?”

“I find you and Mr. Terry, immediately. I don’t yell or make any noise, because we don’t want the people in the house to know we’re there,” I confirm.

“And if you happen to get caught, what do you do?”

“I pretend I ran away from home and broke in, because I was hungry and wanted a warm place to sleep. I forget you and Mr. Terry even exist.”

“That’s right. And if you double-cross me, boy, I’ll kill that junkie mother of yours and frame your asshole of a father for the crime. You’ll never see either of them again. Got it?” he asks with an evil grin.

“Yes, Mr. Sykes.”

* * *

As I stand at the bottom of the staircase, I wonder who’s sleeping up above, oblivious of the intruders in their home. I wonder if they’re nice people. If they’ll be sad when they wake up to find their stuff gone.

I’m sad just imagining it.

I shouldn’t be here. I should have tried to run away from the evil men who are now in the living room, lifting the expensive-looking TV from its oak stand. But they’d find me. They wouldn’t give Momma her medicine, and Dad would get mad and hit me...and Mom, when he found out.

Momma would never love me, then.

I hear nothing upstairs. Nothing but the grandfather clock that ticks loudly at the end of the hallway. I listen harder, hoping the tick-tock of the old clock isn’t masking footsteps upstairs.

Then it hits me.

I can make this stop.

All I have to do is find the mean men and tell them someone is coming. They’ll run away and not be able to take all the nice people’s stuff.

I creep quietly into the living room, but no one is there now, neither is the TV. So I move on into the kitchen, where I see Mr. Sykes and Mr. Terry searching through drawers.

Mustering panic into my features, I rush over and tug on Mr. Sykes sleeve, noticing he’s no longer wearing his leather gloves.

“Mr. Sykes, someone’s coming. Quick. We have to get out, now!” I whisper-shout.

He shakes me off, pulling a gun from behind him.

“No. P-please don’t hurt anyone. I’ll stay and distract them. J-just run!” I stutter.

I can’t risk anyone getting hurt. What if they really do hear the commotion now, and come downstairs, and Mr. Sykes shoots all the people who live here?

“Remember, boy. We don’t exist.” I can see Mr. Sykes glaring into my eyes in the faint moonlight shining through the window. It sends a chill down my spine.

I say nothing; just nod my agreement, before the two evil men flee through the back door and into the night. I hear the truck start up and pull away with a screech, making me cringe.

Well, if they weren’t awake before, they will be now. Great.

I hear murmurs from the hallway and I frantically think of what to do. I could go back down to the basement, but I’d have to cross the entryway of the kitchen to get to the door.

Before I can even think through all of my options, the kitchen light comes on, practically blinding me; my eyes having been used to the darkness.

Blinking my eyes, I fully open them and realize there’s a man standing in the entryway, with a baseball bat in hand. He’s panting, but seems to instantly relax when he sees I’m the only one here.

Without taking his eyes off me, he says, “It’s okay, honey, you can come in. It’s just a kid.”

“What?!” I hear a woman’s voice sound in surprise from the hallway, where I’d kept watch just minutes earlier. The voice is oddly familiar.

When she steps into the room, behind who I assume is her husband, my eyes go wide, as do hers.

“Ryan?”

“Mrs. Connor?” I say in astonishment.

Mrs. Connor is a teaching assistant at my school. I just started hanging out with her son, Nate, at recess.

He’s cool. He doesn’t expect me to talk too much or do anything for him. I like that in a person.

“Ryan, what on earth are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night.”

Stick to the plan. They don’t exist.

“I-I r-ran away from home. I just wanted somewhere warm to sleep,” I try to sound convincing. I don’t know how good I am at lying. I know it’s wrong to do it. I also wasn't anticipating knowing this person I’m lying to.

She looks at me with a sad smile, moving around her husband - who’s now fully lowered the baseball bat - to come closer to me on the other side of the large kitchen.

“So you didn’t see who took the electronics from the living room?” she asks without anger.

I just shake my head and avert my eyes.

“We can help you Ryan. We’ll see who it was when we review our CCTV. I’ll help you. I won’t let them hurt you. I promise,” she says softly.

I look up at her face, panic stirring in my chest, and I see her eyes are wet, like she might be about to cry. The emotion I see in her gaze makes me wonder just how much she really knows about my life. People talk in this small town, so my momma says.

“Please don’t make me tell you,” I say, shaking my head.

She bends down to my level then, gently grasping my shoulders in her hands.

“We’ll make sure you’re safe, Ryan. You won’t have to do this anymore. Matthew…I mean, Mr. Connor and I will see to it. Just, please, tell me everything that led you here.”

And, for reasons I’ll never understand, I tell Mrs. Connor about my life for the first and last time. I let her hug me for the first and last time. I believe a mother loves me for the first and last time.

For the rest of my life, I won’t let my need for a woman’s affection rule me.

* * *

Natalie

“Hi. I’m Natalie. You’re Ryan, right?” I ask the little boy sitting at the breakfast table.

He’s not as little as me, though. I guess he’s about the same age as my brother.

He’s...beautiful. With deep green eyes and dark hair falling over his forehead. I’ve always thought boys were icky, like my brother, but he reminds me of a prince from one of my favorite movies.

My mommy said we had a guest joining us for breakfast, and that he’s one of Nate’s friends from school. I don’t have many friends, so I was really excited when she told me. Without other kids around to make me nervous, I thought I might actually be able to make friends with him.

But now I’m regretting being so uncharacteristically confident. Now he’s looking at me like he hates me. Maybe he’s just nervous, too?

“My daddy makes the bestest pancakes,” I try again as I take a seat across from him.

“I don’t care,” he says, looking right at me.

His harshness almost makes me cry, but I hold the emotions in. He’s probably just not good around new people.

He’s just like me.

“Okay. Well, I’m Natalie. I’ll be your friend if you want a new friend.” I smile.

“I don’t,” he states before my parents and Nate all enter the kitchen together.

“Well, how about I make some pancakes and we all have a nice family breakfast,” Daddy says, retrieving ingredients from the fridge as Mommy turns on the coffee pot.

“Mom, where’s the TV!?” Nate says, bounding up to the kitchen table to join Ryan and me.

“Oh, it broke; we’re getting a new one today. Don't worry.” She smiles, but it’s not as bright as usual.

“Hey, Ry. Mom said your parents were headed out of town and you’re gonna stay over for the weekend?” Nate asks as he takes his seat.

“Uh...yeah, I guess,” Ryan responds glumly.

“Awesome! We can play on my Xbox all weekend! I just got a bunch of new games for my birthday. It’s gonna be awesome!” Nate says excitedly.

“Yeah, awesome,” Ryan responds without a hint of joy.

Who is this boy and why is he so sad? I don’t like seeing him sad.

I just want to make him happy.