finding Reese.: a SAFELIGHT novel vol.2 (SAFELIGHT Series) (38 page)

I
SIT ON THE
STEPS
that lead into Hellbenders, waiting anxiously for the guests of honor to arrive. I invited Catalina and Jupiter here using dancing as a pretext. Everyone is waiting inside, and I’m one hundred percent sure neither of them know what’s about to happen.

No one wants to see them ride off into the motherfucking sunset more than me, and the more time we spend together the more I know there is someone out there wishing and dreaming of me just like Catalina and Jupiter’s dream of each other. There
is
a special girl out there, and she’s all I can think of since the day we met. Jupiter says he felt the same way the day he met Catalina, but only time will tell. I’m not in a rush; I have all the time in the world. Jupiter’s SUV pulls up to the curb, and with determined steps I open Catalina’s door.

“You must be itching to dance there, mister,” Catalina giggles when she sees me. I nod like a giddy child, and that makes her laugh even harder. “Okay then. Lead the way, partner.”

“A word, Jackson,” Jupiter says with a smirk. “Promise me you’ll keep those hands to yourself, yes?”

I groan exaggeratedly. “Dude, you want me to dance without touching her? Fine. Just don’t laugh when I’m dancing like a fucking penguin. Seriously.” Both of them laugh when I start walking like a penguin keeping my hands pressed to my sides and wiggling around them. “Is this what you want, Jup?”

Jupiter laughs and pats my shoulder, and wiping a tear brought on by his laughter, he says, “Just kidding, Jax. Oh my goodness. That was funny, man.”

Catalina snakes her arms around our waists and pulls us close to her. “Shall we do this?” With a bounce in our steps we open the mahogany door that leads into the nightclub.

“SURPRISE!” everyone cheers as soon as we walk in. Cat and Jupiter look at me with wide eyes seeking answers.

“It’s your engagement party,” I declare nonchalantly, and urge them to greet our families waiting at the foot of the steps. “Go!”

They hold hands and happily jog to hug Lizzie, Vincenzo−Jupiter’s folks, and Maddie−Jupiter’s sister, and her husband. I feel a hand tap my shoulder, and when I turn my head, I see Olivia standing right beside me.

“What the hell are you doing here, Oli? I didn’t invite you.”

She looks at me with a smug look on her face. “I was in town again, and Kathryn told me the whole family was here. Color me surprised at the fact that you, my brother, didn’t invite me. Regardless of how you feel about me, I’m a part of this family, and I, too, deserve to be here.”

I lean in closer so that I can whisper into her ear. “It must suck to see the man you fucked over more than once getting engaged and moving on. It must suck that despite your cuntastic ways you never split them apart. I
know
what you did, and to use me for your petty schemes? That’s just wrong. Now have some dignity and get the fuck out of here.
Now!
”

Olivia pushes past me and walks towards Catalina and Jupiter. I run after her, but Catalina’s eyes connect with mine, stopping me.

“What are you doing here?” Stryder yells over the music. Lizzie places a hand over his chest and pushes him back. And then we all hear a single sharp slap of skin on skin.

“I’ve had it with you, Olivia Reese! You do not want to see me pissed. Now get the hell out of here, and let us be,” Catalina grits at my sister, who is holding onto her red and swollen cheek with the five finger souvenir Catalina just gave her. “I’ve tried to be understanding, but get it through your thick head. It’s over.”

Lizzie steps in between them, and Kathy and Kathryn vacate the dance floor to stand by Olivia. I stand there watching with bated breath wondering what will unfold. Our families are tightly knit. These are bonds forged by years of friendship, if not by blood, and this kind of drama has never happened in my family.
Ever.

“Stop being a brat and go home, Oli,” Kathryn says, as she looks at Olivia with pursed lips and her arms crossed against her chest. “If you aren’t the center of attention . . .”

“Olivia Victoria Reese. So help me God. Get out of here before I drag you out myself!” Kathy threatens through gritted teeth. She points towards the exit. “NOW!”

Olivia scampers from the group and jogs up the steps, and then runs out of the nightclub. I chase after her because, after all, she is my sister, and even though she doesn’t deserve an ounce of my pity, my heart tightens thinking how humiliating that little scene must have been for her. As I walk out the door of Hellbenders, I stumble on a familiar face- the one I haven’t been able to get out of my head for months. My plus one for tonight. I gave up on the idea she’d actually show up.

I gaze at her beautiful blue eyes, and my hand instinctively reaches out to touch the soft, perfect porcelain skin of her face. “You came,” I whisper in amazement and disbelief. Her soft giggles make me forget my name and where I am, and why I ran out of Hellbenders in the first place.

“I did,” she replies with a smile, bringing out the cute dimples in both of her cheeks.

With a racing mind and a hopeful heart I realize right then and there it’s my turn to find love and start a new adventure, and after all that I’ve been through, why would I deny myself that chance? Acting on pure instinct, I cradle her face with my hands and bring my lips to hers. The connection is soft and tender, and has my heart tied up in fucking knots. As we kiss, I feel her hands wrap around my waist, her fingers exploring the ridges of my abdomen through my dress shirt. The more I kiss her, the more I want to know more of her. With ragged breaths, I reluctantly break our kiss, and looking into her gorgeous eyes, I speak the truth.

“Feel free to slap me now. I couldn’t help myself.”

“Neither could I, Jax. Neither could I.”

To be continued . . .

SPECIAL EXCERPT

Please enjoy this excerpt from:

TRIGGER WARNING:

The following
work of fiction
contains crude language and violence, and includes subject matter such as Alcoholism, Domestic Violence, Child Abuse, and Anxiety, Panic and Post-traumatic Stress Disorder. The scene you are about to read
may trigger
certain feelings and urges upon those who have experienced any of the aforementioned. This excerpt is intended for individuals over the age of eighteen. Your discretion is
strongly
advised.

Seventeen years ago

“D
OTTIE!” MY FATHER ROARS, AS
soon as he opens the front door, and slams it shut−almost rattling it off from its hinges.

I throw my notebook aside, not caring about the worksheet my stupid math teacher gave our class for homework. I seriously doubt long division will serve any valuable purpose in life when I finally grow up and leave this hell-hole. I sit up in bed. Even at twelve, I can tell what state my father is in just by the sound of his voice. Nah . . . This comes as no surprise, because the truth is, we are used to this. As the saying goes, this is the story of my life.

“Dottie!” he roars again, his speech slurred−no doubt because he stopped at a bar after work instead of coming straight home. You’d think a detective with the police force would know how to behave, but no, not Timothy Pryce. No one knows him like
we
know him, and if mom doesn’t respond soon, there will be hell to pay.

My heart is racing in my chest like a jackhammer because my dad is an impatient man. Blame it on his job, or my mom. I don’t know, but one thing I know is I’ve never met a more hateful, terrible, and scary man. I hear his footsteps coming down the hall, and I know I should get off my ass to run and hide. But I can’t because I’m frozen in place.

I’m breathing faster, and I’m pretty sure every hair on my body is standing on edge. I reach out for my pencil with a trembling hand; its point is dulled down to nothing. I know that if Dad opens the door, I’m going to say something smart, and then he’s going to remove his belt, and hit me repeatedly. It’s happened so many times before, and I’m always the first who gets to feel his wrath. I’m learning to defend myself, and this stupid pencil is my only form of defense.

I’m the youngest of four, unplanned and unwanted- or so I’ve been told many times before. Mom tried some creative ways to get rid of me, but in the end, Darwin’s rule of survival of the fittest won. I didn’t ask to be born, yet here I am.

Dad’s footsteps stop in front of my door, and the round doorknob turns, its characteristic squeak scaring the crap out of me. I release a shaky breath and say a quick prayer.
Dear God, help me now.

Another set of steps come rapping against the beaten hardwood floor. They belong to my mother, and judging by their slow approach, I can tell Mom doesn’t want to be here either.

“There you are, stupid woman.” I hear my father’s muffled, angry voice through the wooden door.

“Good evening, Tim,” my mother greets him, in her characteristic saccharine voice. “I was outside. You called?”

Slap.

“You watch your tone with me, you stupid bitch,” I hear Dad tell Mom.

I get up from my bed, ready to open the door to defend my mother. I hear her muted sobs, and I’m positive her hand is already soothing her battered face. But as I stand, a path of wetness stains the front of my pants. I’ve peed myself again. I tiptoe to the door and place my ear against the wood.

“Why, Tim. Why have you hit me?” Mom cries softly.

“You’re a stupid woman who doesn’t answer when I call! Now stop acting so fucking injured and get me dinner. I’m hungry and I’ve had a bad day.”

“Yes, Tim. I made you your favorite. Ribeye steak−bloody just how you like it−with mashed potatoes and peas. I even baked brownies,” Mom whispers, her voice wavering. She clears her throat and says, “Come, Tim. It’s on the hot plate. Would you like a beer, or something else?”

I can’t hear anything beyond that. I step back from the door. Once I’m standing by my bed, I open my fist and the pencil I was clutching on falls to the floor. It lands on the eraser end and bounces a few times before it lands flat against the floorboards, clicking the stark quiet of my room. As Mom’s and Dad’s footsteps trail away down the hallway, I let out a huge sigh of relief.

My hands are shaking. I grab fresh clothes with the intention of taking a shower. As I shut the drawers, my sister Amanda Rose knocks on my door. I can tell because she always knocks three times. Grabbing a towel, I cover the front of my pants, and run to the door. I open it and she slips in, her dark auburn hair shielding one side of her pale, tear-stricken face. Her crisp green eyes are red from crying, and her breaths are short, as if she’s holding back sobs.

I drop the towel and hug my sister. I don’t care if I reek of piss, or if I get her flowery pajamas dirty. My sister is my world, and even though I’m four years younger, I feel the need to protect and console her.

“Are you okay, Rose?” I whisper into her hair, and at my question, she breaks down. After crying for a bit, I pull back and keep her at arm’s length.

She looks down at me. “Jesus. You pissed yourself again?” Rose whispers, and looks me in the eye. “Let’s run away, Evan. Just you and me,” she rambles breathlessly. “Any place is better than here. Pack a bag and meet me in my room at midnight. We’ll go out my window, okay?”

“Okay,” I mumble, feeling uneasy. With a shaky nod, Rose leaves my room and closes the door quietly behind her. I grab my clothes, and open the door, practically racing down the narrow hallway to the bathroom. Once there, I take off my clothes, and turn on the faucet in the shower to heat the water. As I wait, I look in the mirror and what I see disappoints me.

The image before me is not what I want to see. My body shows years of abuse, and that’s only on the outside. Bruises and welts; starting on my chest and working their way down to the backs of my legs and up my back. I’ve never deserved any of this, regardless of what my parents think or say. There are times where I sit in the darkness of my closet and pretend I live another life far away from here.