Make Me Forget (10 page)

11

Travis

This secretive bullshit is really starting to piss me off. First, I find her alone, sleeping on a rock. Does she know what kind of sick fucks are out there? And I get that she had a rough time with her mom. Alone and scared with so much to deal with at such a young age. I imagine that’s part of what she’s talking about. I know there’s more to it, though. She flinched when I raised my voice. My fearless girl, who chased after me in the lake, was scared of me. That’s something I have to fix. I swear if that blond douchebag hurt her…

Once the sun completely sets, I hold her for a little bit. It’s starting to get colder out, and I don’t have a jacket to give her. 

“Hey, let’s get you home,” my gruff voice breaks the silence.

Char stands in agreement and a slit of skin above her jeans is exposed when she raises her arms above her head to stretch. It’s taking all of my restraint not to touch her more than I already am. My dick twitches in my pants, and I quickly stand and concentrate on stepping down the jagged rock before her. Once on the sand, she grabs my outstretched hand, and we walk to my car together. Her grip loosens as we get closer.

She looks nervous. “I guess I’ll see you later.”

“I’ll drive you. Brandon and I will get your car tomorrow.” Any excuse I have to be with her, I’ll take.

“How is your brother?”

“He’s good. He only has another couple weeks here before he transfers to Chicago.” I’m really proud of my brother. He followed in my father and grandfather’s footsteps and made detective. He just accepted an opening in Chicago. I never had the desire to be a cop. Always wanted to be a firefighter. My family supports me and has never made me feel less because of it. My dad was paralyzed when I was fourteen from a gunshot wound, and that kind of put the kibosh on any pressure I felt to join the force.

“That’s nice. I’m happy for him. I’m fine, Travis, I’ll drive.”

I can tell she’s not going to change her mind.

“Alright, sweetheart.” I kiss the top of her head, and after she pushes the button on her key fob, I open the door for her. Once inside and buckled, I close it and hop in my car to follow her home. The tires slow under me as I pull up to the curb and watch her shapely body get out of her car. She blows a kiss at me, laughing, before entering the building. 

***

Since I’m off today, my brother roped me into helping him move. He already has a place back in Chicago and wants to get it set up. We’re in the U-Haul driving south on I-94. I’m rubbing my aching shoulder when Brandon starts talking.

“Dude, I thought I had it.”

“Yeah, well, you’re lucky I had my balance, otherwise I would have fallen down the stairs. Shit, man, don’t you have any friends? Any guys you work with to help you move this heavy-ass shit?” Adjusting my neck, the popping helps alleviate some of the kinks from all the heavy lifting this morning.

“You don’t have to be such a baby about it. I said I was sorry, like ten times.”

“I’m not being a baby; you dropped a two hundred and fifty pound solid wood dresser on me!” He didn’t actually drop it; more like it slipped, but we should have had another guy to help us. Apparently, this dresser was my great grandparents’ or something, so it’s fucking heavy. I like to rile him up.For as big of a guy as he is, he’s actually a sensitive prick.

Aside from the occasional squeak of the brakes, silence fills the cabin of the truck the rest of the hour and twenty-five minute drive. I feel like we’re kids again, having a silent contest. He’s pissed at me when I’m the one who was slammed with the dresser. I’m not really mad, I get that his hands slipped, but that shit hurt.

The silence is fine with me, though.It gives me time to think about how to get Char to open up to me.

Box after box is unloaded into his first floor studio apartment, silent treatment still in effect. We avoid eye contact as we carry the dresser to his bedroom. I accidentally push a little harder, making him stumble. Smirking, I do it again.

“Stop that shit. Jesus, man,” he yells at me.

“How’s it feel to have all this wood shoved at you?”

“For the last time, Travis, I said I was sorry! I told you I’d take bottom. If you would have taken top, I would have been the one with the huge piece of wood slammed into me, and I wouldn’t have to listen to your dumb ass!”

“I didn’t want top! You’re more flexible than me!”

“Next time, you don’t have a choice, you’re getting top, and I’ll take bottom so the wood hits me!”

“Would you two like to be alone?” My dad’s booming voice filters through the room, and we both drop the dresser, muttering profanities. He and our mom are in the archway, both shaking their heads. Dad in his wheelchair, and Mom with her skirt and cardigan, like always. Her short hair shakes with laughter, and she grabs Dad’s shoulder for support.

“He dropped a dresser on me!” I shout.

“I said I was sorry!”

We argue until a firm ‘smack’ upside our heads echoes around the empty room.

“Jesus, Ma,” Brandon and I both say, rubbing the backs of our heads.

“I thought my two grown sons, one a detective and the other a firefighter, had outgrown these childish arguments.”

I try to defend myself, since I’m always the one in trouble, even though he started it, but the ‘Mom look’ she shoots in my direction has me snapping my mouth shut like I’m a kid again.

“Now, tell me what happened, so we can talk through it.”

“Nah, it’s all good. Right, bro?” The last thing I want is to get into a talk with my mom. We’d be here all day, and someone would end up crying. She has a way about her.

“Yeah. We’re good.” Brandon’s fist taps mine a little harder than necessary, and I pat him on the back with a little too much force.

“Good, now that that’s settled, let's unpack.”

God, nothing like feeling like a kid again.

While unpacking, my mother glares at us when Brandon and I continue to ‘accidentally’ bump into each other. We eventually stop, and she pinches our cheeks. Once everything is unpacked, we order a pizza.

“You ready for this, son?” Dad asks Brandon.

“I was born ready.”

We all laugh at him, and Dad and Brandon talk shop while I help Mom throw all the garbage away.

“What’s with the long face?” she asks in the kitchen.

“Huh? Nothing,” I lie. She won’t buy it.

“Liar. What’s wrong?” Her concern is touching, really, but I am not about to tell my mother my relationship problems. “Is it a girl?”

“Ma, I’m not talking about this with you.”

“So, there is something going on.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “But it’s fine, alright. I got it.” I smile and give her a kiss on the cheek.

“She must be pretty special.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because ever since Tammy, you’ve been closed off. In order to open yourself back up again, this girl would have had to help you realize you’re allowed to move on from your past.”

Damn, she’s good. “You think so, huh?” I tease.

“I know so. Is she the reason you decided to drop the construction job and follow your dream?” She smiles proudly at me, and I nod in response.

“Yeah, Ma, she is. She’s the reason for all that and more.”

We say our goodbyes, and after folding my Dad’s wheelchair in the car, I meet my brother in the truck.

“You still pissed about the dresser, or is something else going on?” Always inquisitive, it’s no wonder he made detective so fast. First Mom, now him. I guess I suck at hiding how I feel.

“How do you get someone to talk to you, even though they don’t want to?”

“Depends.” He shrugs. “Usually find their weakness and use it against them.”

“But I don’t want her to tell me under false pretenses.”

“So, it’s a woman? That’s a whole other ball game.” He whistles, and the strumming of his thumbs on the steering wheel indicates his mind turning. “What’s she hiding?”

“I don’t know; something bad, something that changed her. I don’t want to push too far too fast and have her close me out completely.” Blowing out a breath, I lay my head on the seat rest.

“You’ve gotta outsmart her. Ask questions and make her think it’s the answers you’re looking for, but really it’s her body language you’re after. See if she maintains eye contact or blinks a lot. Does she stutter or answer too fast? Those little clues can help get a perspective of the situation.”

An idea pops in my head, and I instantly know how to get the upper hand. 

“Thanks, man.”

***

With a plan in mind, I walk to the entry door and press the buzzer for her place. After Brandon dropped me off Sunday night, I was so tired and sore, all I did was take a shower and fall into bed. I worked forty-eight hours straight after that. We had calls all night, so I didn’t get much sleep. I went home so I could get some shuteye and change my clothes. After a quick run to the store, I take my chances showing up unannounced. Her sweet, smooth voice fills the intercom.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me. Travis,” I add, not sure if she recognizes my voice.

An ear piercing buzzing is the only response I get as I turn the knob and walk up the four flights of stairs to her door. She’s wearing grey yoga pants and a bright yellow tank top. I stumble when I recognize the shiny blond hair flowing in sexy waves past her shoulders. The smile that forms on my lips is automatic. She looks so much more like herself, so fucking beautiful.

“Your hair.”

“Yeah, well, I like my natural color better.” She shrugs, and I follow her inside, kicking the door shut behind me as I set the bags on the floor.

My body moves on its own accord, and I grab fistfuls of her silky hair and slam my mouth to hers. She lets out a yelp and puts her hands on my chest, grabbing my shirt. Our lips meld together and I lift her a few inches off the ground so I can carry her to the couch. Nothing about this kiss is neat. It’s hungry and fucking hot. Her legs bump against the armrest, and I fall with her on to the couch. Her soft body under my hard one does nothing but turn me on even more. I pull away and look into her eyes, panting.

“Oh. My. God.”

My head snaps to the right to find Meara sitting in a corner chair, mouth agape, eyes wide.

“Shit,” I mutter under my breath and turn back to Charlotte. “You okay?”

Her frantic nodding makes me laugh, and I give her a final chaste kiss. I pull her up with me and plop on the couch, making her sit on my lap to hide my rock hard dick from Meara.

“That was so hot. If you weren’t my cousin…”

“Ew. Meara, you’re disgusting.” Charlotte’s cheeks are pink, but I can’t tell if it’s from being turned on or from embarrassment.

“On that note, I’m outta here. Peace out, bitch. Bye, Travis.” She waves and practically runs away. After the door slams, we both burst out laughing.

“I brought you food, but from the looks of it, you already ate.” Empty Chinese food containers litter her coffee table, along with a couple empty cartons of Ben and Jerry’s.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I’ll put it in the fridge real quick. You sure you’re alright? I wasn’t planning that, but your hair.” I run my fingers through the ends. “And you look hot with your skimpy outfit.”

“This isn’t skimpy.”

“Char. It’s tight. I can see every one of your delicious curves.” I blatantly check her out, and she smacks my shoulder.

“Stop. I’m fine. I didn’t expect that, either. I don’t want us to be about sex.”

“Me, either. We need to get back where we used to be. I’ll be right back.”

I take out the bacon, eggs, and orange juice and put them in the fridge. The pancake mix I leave in the bag but grab the movie and walk back in the living room. I hold up the movie, and her laughter fills the room.

“Really?!”

“Yup, I know you like
Dirty Dancing
, but I couldn’t find that, so I figured this was the next best thing.” I put the DVD in and sit down next to her, relieved when she immediately leans into me. I skip through the previews, and watch as
Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights
illuminates the screen.

12

Charlotte

As if a sledge hammer were in my chest, my heart pounds when Travis grabs and kisses me... slow and hard. The sting from him tugging my hair morphs my initial shock into fear. Undesired feelings toward the man who always made me feel safe have me clawing, grabbing, and trying to reach my way back to normalcy with him. My mind catches up with my body when his heavy weight lands on top of me.

Like water and oil, my feelings quickly separate, and I remember
Travis
. The man who I fell in love with four years ago. The man who would never hurt me. And, in an instant, I know I’m safe again.

It’s both a blessing and a curse Meara was here. I probably would have gone farther, even though I know it’s not a good idea. He needs to know. Once I tell him, if he’s not too disgusted with me, then maybe things can progress physically. Though, I don’t think I’ll be ready for a long time. What kind of person freaks out over a kiss? I can’t imagine how I would react if we did more.

Shaking off the negative thoughts, I cuddle up and enjoy him as I used to. Being together was always enough, and right now, that’s exactly what I need. His strong arms hold me, the subtle scent of his cologne comforts me, and I fall asleep.

Twice in as many days, I wake to Travis’ voice.

“Hey, sweetheart. Let’s get you to bed.”

“Ugh.” Rolling my neck to get the kink out, I push off him and sit up. “I can’t believe I fell asleep. To be fair, that movie was awful. Did you fall asleep, too?”

A very faint hint of pink appears on his neck, and he quickly looks down.

“Oh, my God! You liked it!”

“No, I didn’t,” he snaps back.

“Yes. You did. Big, tough Travis likes
Havana Nights.
Tell me, does this replace
Backdraft?”
I tease.

He leans toward me, and I melt back into the couch until he’s only inches away. “You making fun of me?” he jokes with a sexy, husky voice. He grabs my legs and shifts them so they rest on either side of his hips. Leaning further, his core presses against mine, and I gasp at the pressure. I can feel him, hot and hard, through my pants, and it’s taking everything in me to keep still.

“No. Not making fun,” I whisper.

“You’re not?” He tilts his head, looking at my eyes, and rubs his hardness against me again a couple times.

I can’t respond verbally but shake my head. He gently pushes the hair off my face and runs his nose along my cheek. I shudder when his warm breath surrounds my ear.

“That’s too bad. I was looking forward to punishing you.”

He smiles against the side of my head, and I know he’s just messing around, but with those words, I freeze. I’m assaulted with visions of being bent over Todd’s knee, his palm against my sore backside. I thought it was fun. The sting turned me on, it made me push the envelope. I purposely said things to get spanked. ‘Naughty girl,’ he’d say. ‘You really want to get punished tonight, don’t you?’ Over and over again, he would spank me. Sometimes I could hardly sit the next day.

“Charlotte, what the fuck?” Travis’ sharp words snap me out of the trance I’m in. I look up and see my hands digging into his arms, blood forming where my nails squeeze his flesh.

“Oh, my God! I’m so sorry!” As fast as I can, I remove my hands.

“You’ve gotta talk to me, Char. I don’t know what the hell is going on with you, but I feel like you’re gonna break. Like I can’t touch you. You have this look in your eye. I know it’s been a while, but shit, the way you make me feel.”

I choke back a sob as I listen to him say it out loud. It gives me hope for the first time in a long time, that I have a future, a chance at happiness.

He gets up from the couch and pleads with me, “You want me to stay away? ‘Cause I will. It’ll fuckin kill me to walk away from you again, but I’ll do it, if that’s what you need.”

He’s pacing and running his hands through his hair, much like he did when he told me about his past. My heart breaks because I can’t… I’m not ready. I know when I tell him, he’s not going to see me as the same strong person. I’ll be weak, a stupid girl who stayed in an abusive, controlling relationship for years.

I can finally admit what it was. It took me way too long, but to be able to actually acknowledge the truth, that I was in an abusive relationship, makes me feel indifferent. I thought having a reason for allowing myself to be treated that way would give me a sense of peace, but it doesn’t really change anything. I was stupid. That’s all it comes down to.

“N-no.”

Stopping dead in his tracks, the hurt in his voice doesn’t match the anger in his eyes. “No, I can’t touch you?”

“Yes. I mean no. I don’t want you to walk away. God, Travis…” Words die on my tongue while I try to figure out how to express the plethora of emotions I’m feeling.

“What do you need from me, Char?” He sinks to his knees in front of me and grasps my hands in his calloused ones. “I’ll do whatever you need. It physically hurts me to see you like this, with tears in your eyes, looking afraid. I feel helpless, and I can’t fucking stand that feeling, Char. You know this.” He’s begging me, and it’s tearing me apart to know I’m causing it.

I quickly pull one of my hands away and wipe the tears before they fall. The circles he’s making on my thigh help calm me. I don’t know how many times I pictured Travis over the years. Imagining it was him making love to me. Wanting to be in his arms again. Now that it’s finally a possibility, I freak out like an idiot.

“I need some time and some understanding. I want you to touch me, but it has to be slow. I don’t know how far I can go–”

“I’d never make you do something you’re not ready for. That’s not the only reason I want to be with you.” He pulls me to him and throws his arms around my shoulders, making me feel safe. I wrap mine around his neck and bury my head in his chest. “I can give you time and understanding, as long as you know I’ll be here for you, and I want… no, I need you to talk to me. I have so many ideas swirling in my head right now, and they’re making me crazy. I need honesty, sweetheart. That’s all.”

“After my dad died, I… it’s not pretty. And I’ll tell you, but not now. Not yet. Let’s forget about all the crappy stuff for a little while, please,” I beg.

Even though I can see the disappointment on his face, he tries to hide it, and smiles a dimpleless smile.

After our talk last night, we made banana splits and watched meaningless television, then fell asleep on the couch together.

“Hey, you, wake up.” I hear his voice before I feel his hands rubbing my back. Squinting my eyes, I groan as the light hits them and roll over to my back.

“It’s almost ten, and I’ve got a big day planned.”

This statement has my eyes shooting open. “You do?”

“Yeah. Now come on, breakfast is ready.”

“What’d you make?” I ask excitedly.

“Turkey bacon and an egg white omelet. Gotta watch my figure,” he replies rubbing his stomach that I know is hard as a rock and has a happy trail leading down past his jeans.

“’Kay. Give me a minute.” I throw the blanket off and drag my feet to the bathroom. I’m not really a morning person, so I take my time brushing my teeth, eyes slowly closing as each second passes.

“I bet if I told you it was French toast you wouldn’t be falling asleep brushing your teeth,” he teases, leaning on the bathroom door.

“This is a true story,” I mumble around my mouthful of toothpaste.

He laughs and squeezes my butt as he walks away. The familiar gesture doesn’t freak me out, and I give myself a gold star for the small step.

When I walk in the kitchen, he has two plates of crunchy French toast and not turkey bacon set out, with a couple glasses of orange juice.

“You’re the best!” I laugh and give him a loud kiss. I should have known, no way would he ever eat turkey bacon. We sit opposite each other like the other day. I shovel my food into my mouth, savoring the crispy/gooey combination.

“Char, fucking stop that!” Travis’ voice makes me pause, fork halfway to my mouth.

“Huh?”

“Your groaning and shit. As sexy as you look shoving that in your mouth, the damn noises coming from it are… just stop, okay?” He’s pleading, and I see him reach down and shift his legs.

“Ooh.” I slowly and quietly eat the last couple of bites.

“Anyways.” He stands and grabs my empty plate, setting it in the sink. “I thought we’d go do something we always wanted to do but never got around to. Now, I know it’s ‘cause
someone
would have needed parental consent.” He’s teasing, I know, because of the dimple, but I suck in a breath as my stomach turns.

“Shit. I didn’t mean anything, I was joking.” He comes over and tilts my head up. “I’m sorry. It’s too soon, huh?”

Not able to speak because I feel like I’m gonna puke, I nod. The movement makes my stomach retch, and I push him out of the way, running to the bathroom. I don’t shut the door behind me because I don’t have time before I find myself hugging the porcelain.

I reach up and flush; the act makes stupid memories come to the surface. How I’d puke when Todd left after he hit me, how I lied to Travis. He’s right, too. We talked about going parasailing, but since I did it the summer before, I knew you had to be eighteen or have parental consent. So, when he really tried to get us to go, I came up with some lame-ass excuse, and we ended up going go-karting. Another lie, when all he ever asked for was honesty.

What a fucking mess I am. When I feel him pull my hair back, I push his hands away. Angry at myself for so many things, I want to be alone. I’m used to being alone. I’m better alone. All those happy feelings I was having earlier are nothing but a bunch of shit.

“Go away,” I beg.

“No.”

“Travis, leave me the hell alone.”

“No. You’re not alone anymore, sweetheart, and if you think I’m going away that easily, you really don’t know me.”

“I don’t fucking know you! We spent a few weeks together years ago. Now, leave me the hell alone!” I scream and push him.

The shock from my statement allows me to actually move him. I can’t look at his face right now. I slam the bathroom door shut, brush my teeth, and rinse my mouth out with mouthwash.

When I look at myself in the mirror, I can’t help but be angry. No, angry isn’t the right word. Enraged is better. I become blurry in the mirror as my eyes water. Dammit. I hate crying. I never used to cry. I was the strong one. I was the rock. I took care of everything. I didn’t cry. Crying shows weakness, and I’m not weak, dammit!

I pound the mirror, glass shattering under my hands as I hit it over and over again. Every time I feel glass stab me, the pain from my memories fades away. I don’t know how much time has passed, but I pound until I feel arms wrap around me. Even if he weren’t here earlier, I’d recognize his scent and the way he feels any day. I let the emotions I’ve been holding in take over, and I sob. My body heaves and shakes as I let the man I lied to, the man I don’t deserve, hold and comfort me.

He says soothing words and runs his hands through my hair and down my back. Eventually, I calm down, and my sobbing turns to silent tears rolling out of my eyes. I watch as they land on the floor, mixing with the blood dripping from my hands.

“I need to look at your hands,” he says, quietly, but I can hear the anger laced in.

I lift them up and am shocked at the amount of blood.

“Come on.”

I notice the bathroom door hanging off the hinges.
He broke down the door.
I follow him to the kitchen where he takes all the dirty dishes out of the sink. He lifts my listless body up on the counter, since I’m too weak to stand, and starts rinsing my arms. When the cool water hits my hands, I wince and try to pull away. He pulls them back and continues gently washing. I finally look at his face, and I see his jaw ticking, his breaths coming out in short, fast bursts through his nose.

“Travis–”

“No. Don’t. Just, don’t,” he clips.

Nodding, I let him continue. I deserve his anger.

“Where’s your first aid kit?”

“Bathroom cabinet.”

He returns and pokes and prods a few minutes longer, removing some small pieces of glass before applying ointment and wrapping them.

Then he walks out.

***

I’m sitting on my patio wrapped in a blanket watching the sunset when there’s a knock at my door. I ignore it and take another drink out of the almost empty wine bottle. When the knocking continues, I begrudgingly stumble to the door. Peeking through the hole, I see my cousin on the other side. I pull it open and walk back to the patio where I grab my bottle and cuddle back up with the blanket. 

“What the hell happened today?” Pierce looks at my hands then back at me, then over to the hallway where you can see the bathroom door hanging.

“Nothing.”

“I can’t even remember the last time I saw him that mad. Oh, wait, yes I can. It’s when Johnny talked about you riding him with your cowboy boots on!”