Pretty in Kink (23 page)

Church, her ass. Ha. The devil must be here to curse the
holy place or something.

When she turned the rear corner of the quiet structure, her
eyes searched for him. She could hear the drone of his voice in the distance
and she followed it, a she-wolf on the scent of her kill.

Her gaze zoned in on him. Her steps came to an abrupt halt.
A graveyard? Behind the little church perched a small, fenced-in knoll shaded
by mossy oaks and lined with rows of various-sized headstones. From her
standpoint, she could see his profile and she could just barely see Carolyn
standing nearby, her arms crossed in an aggressive stance. They flanked a
headstone decorated with helium balloons, teddy bears and toy trucks.

Britt covered her mouth and bit the heel of her hand.
No.
It can’t be. This isn’t… Is it Tyler’s
grave
?

So his son
is
dead?

She eased herself behind a blooming bush, slid her hand down
to her chest and rubbed at the sudden ache, tried to still the erratic beating
of her heart.

Carolyn’s quivering voice carried across the space of the
church’s quaint backyard. “I was here first. You can just come back another
day.”

“I’m not coming back. I shouldn’t have to clear it with you
every time I want to see him. He’s my son too. One of these days, you’re going
to have to accept that fact. But until then, I’m not budging.”

“Why do you keep doing this to me?” Carolyn shrieked, her
rigid, skinny body trembling as she rose on tiptoe and glowered at him.

He took a step back and glanced to his left. “Shh, damn you,
this isn’t the kind of place to raise your voice. And I don’t keep doing
anything to you, for Christ’s sake.”

“Raise my voice? What about you using Christ’s name in vain
in a ‘kind of place’ like this? Hypocrite. Now get the hell out of my sight.”

“I’m not leaving,” Diego said, his tone firm. “It’s his
birthday. I’m his dad.”

“He’s
my
son, goddamn it. And you’ll never have the
right to claim him, no matter what the fucking court papers say. You blew that
chance years ago. It’s because of you—
all
of this is because of you!”

She flung a hand out in her anger, grazing Diego’s abdomen,
and Britt had to suppress a gasp to keep from being noticed.

Diego caught Carolyn’s wrist in his grip before she could do
him any further damage. “You’re wrong. You always have been wrong, but it would
do me no good to set you straight. And you keep your hands to yourself, or I’ll
call the police and have them escort you off the property. Again.”

Carolyn’s body trembled and her voice shook with emotion and
rage. “You’re all talk and never any action. You’ve been saying that all along,
all that crap about me being wrong. Well I’m sick of hearing it. If you think
you’re so fucking right, you bastard, then quit being such a coward and spit it
out. Spit it out and then get the fuck out of my life. Out of
my
son’s
life. Or rather, his death.”

Diego dropped onto a park bench. He looked up at her, and
from her vantage point behind the bush, Britt saw the flicker of pain cross his
face. She squeezed the picture in her fist, tried to remember his betrayal, but
for the moment she’d been caught up in the drama unfolding before her.

“You want me to say it? You really want to hear it?”

Carolyn plopped onto the bench next to him and slapped the
space between them. “Yeah, I really want to hear whatever the hell it is you
seem to be keeping secret from me.”

He leaned forward, held his head in his hands. “You sure?”

Seeing him that way, so beaten down, made Britt’s eyes
sting. She ignored it, turned her head so she wouldn’t miss a word.

“I’m sure,” Carolyn sneered.

He inhaled, as if he contemplated whether he should go
through with his disclosure or not. “Okay, maybe it would be best. Maybe you do
need to finally hear it.”

She groaned in derision. “How many times have you said that?
Hear what?”

“That it wasn’t me.” He leaned back and stared up through
the swaying trees. Rays of sunlight speared through the leaves and twinkled
across his grim expression.

Carolyn rolled her eyes and exhaled. She slumped on the
seat. “What wasn’t you?”

“The person behind the wheel.”

Her face paled a shade or two. She straightened, swayed and
gripped the edge of the bench. “What did you say?”

“I wasn’t the one driving that night. You’ve blamed me all
this time, but I thought it might be easier on you—safer—if you just kept
thinking it was me.”

“W-what are you saying? I don’t understand.”

Diego propped his elbows on his knees and held his head in
his hands. He combed his fingers through his hair over and over. It made Britt
long to run to him, to hold him and ease his stress.

The pictures, remember the pictures.

“I came home from the shop that night. As usual, we fought.”

He paused, and Carolyn’s jaw started to sag.

His head came up. “Do you remember?”

“No—yes, I…”

He dragged himself to his feet and paced in front of her,
apparently determined to get this torture off his chest. “Your drinking had
become an off-and-on issue, so when I noticed you sipping a drink, I made a
point to locate your keys, hide them. It had become a pattern, the drinking
then me hiding the keys, I mean, sort of like something a person doesn’t notice
anymore. A fixture. But I was the one at fault since I stormed outside and left
him alone with you.”

“No…”

“Yes, Carolyn, yes. Your keys were in my pocket, I sat on
the back deck, didn’t hear you leave. You must have located the spare—why didn’t
I think of that? God
damn
it, why didn’t I think of that?” He kicked the
bench. The sound of raw pain tore through his throat in a husky cry.

A tear spilled over Britt’s cheek. She swiped at it,
fighting her own pain.

“No, no… Surely you don’t mean…” Carolyn choked out.

He nodded, didn’t look at her, just stared at the grave
sprawled out at their feet. “Yes. I followed you. You’d put Tyler in the car
with you and didn’t buckle him in.”

A sound resembling a squealing cat forced its way out of
Carolyn’s mouth. She covered her face, rocked her body back and forth. A long,
eerie pause reached Britt’s ears, followed by Carolyn’s suppressed groans and
the swish of the breeze through the trees.

Diego sliced a pained glance down at her. “He was…he was
dead by the time I got down into the ravine. It was bad, real bad. There was…”
His voice cracked. He covered his face and moaned. “There was no saving him. I
called paramedics, said I’d had a wreck with my wife and son in the car, tried
CPR for the longest time. But it didn’t work. Sirens started off in the
distance. I hid my bike in a thick copse of trees and palmettos a ways off the
road. I dragged you to the passenger’s side, climbed into the driver’s seat
just as the first ambulance and squad car arrived.”

“No!” She shot to her feet. Her legs gave out, but Diego was
there to catch her. She sobbed, her bony fists pounding his chest. “Y-you’re
lying, you bastard. You’re lying. Why are you being so cruel? You’re the one.
Y-you’re the one w-who drove that night. It’s in the police report. It was you.
Not me. Not
me
.”

He held her upper arms and stared deep into her
grief-stricken eyes. He shook her gently and said, “No, I’m sorry, but it
wasn’t me. You, Carolyn. It was you. I didn’t want you to blame yourself—you
weren’t yourself that night. You were worse. Way worse. Maybe I shouldn’t have
done it. You might’ve sobered up behind bars, but I couldn’t add that to the
pain of what couldn’t be changed or taken back. I see now it was wrong. It was
a snap decision made during a moment of shock and grief. I just couldn’t let
them know the truth.”

They stood now where Britt could see them from the side as
they faced each other.

Carolyn’s gaze bounced back and forth. “N-no.”

“Yes, I’m sorry. All this time, I’ve let you think it was
me, because at first, I still loved you. I knew you’d be devastated, but I
should have told you the truth from the beginning. Maybe you’d have worked your
way through it by now instead of spending every nonworking minute of your life
inebriated and resenting me. But I’m to blame too. I shouldn’t have left him in
the house with you. I was sober and should have thought to protect him from
you, taken him outside with me or something.

“You would’ve just passed out eventually, never even known
I’d taken him. I’ve dealt with my own guilt and demons over that, believe me.
At the time, I was livid over whatever it was we’d been arguing about and just
went outside to calm my ass down. I wasn’t thinking straight. You don’t know
how many times I’ve longed for that moment back, that one moment I walked out
the door and left him in there with you.”

She just stood there staring at him, her chest rising and
falling, her breaths coming rapid and shallow. She blurted, “Diego, what have I
done? Oh my god, Diego.”

“I’m…I’m sorry, so sorry.”

Carolyn flew into his arms and wailed. She clutched his
shirt and pounded his chest. “No, no, no.”

Diego stared over the top of her head and rubbed her back.
He soothed and cooed, but Britt could see the relief edging in on the
bitterness he carried for his ex-wife.

Britt tried to suppress the tears, but they flowed down her
cheeks wet and free. Her heart ached for Diego, and for Carolyn too.

“I-I have to go,” Carolyn sniffed. “Now.”

Diego nodded and stood back, releasing her from his embrace.

Carolyn rushed over to the sidewalk.

Britt took cover, hugging the church wall. She heard
Carolyn’s final words.

“Diego…I-I’m sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

“I know, Carolyn. I know. Me too.”

Carolyn scurried by, sobbing. But at the last second, she
glanced to the side and spotted Britt hunkering in the bushes.

She crossed to where Britt crouched and gazed down at her
with puffy eyes. “I-I’m sorry about that night. That night I was so nasty to
you and Diego. It was awful of me, horrible to treat you both that way. I hope
you can forgive me.”

“Sure, y-yes, it’s okay,” Britt croaked, gradually standing
up.

Carolyn turned, but she stopped in her tracks and glanced
over her shoulder. Her pleading gaze met Britt’s. “My head’s clear for now, and
I’m starting to realize he’s always been a very good man at heart. But I
screwed up with him. Don’t you do the same. He deserves better than what I’ve
given him over the years.”

Before Britt could reply, Carolyn rushed away.

The photo in her hand reminded her he did have a side to him
that wasn’t so good. Britt knew she should go before he saw her, knew it wasn’t
the best time for Diego, but she had demons of her own riding her. She stepped
out from behind the bushes.

He’d sat back down on the bench, his hands laced together
and dangling between his spread legs. He didn’t seem to notice her approach,
not even when she passed through the little graveyard gate. Drawn to him by
both the rage that still burned in her gut, and pity, she walked toward him.

Still, he made no indication of noticing her.

“Hey, buddy, happy birthday.” He leaned forward, his head
bent, talking to the ground. To the grave.

Her eyes stung, her throat tightened, her stomach hurt.
Britt’s gaze scanned the tombstone.

Tyler Caleb Mansini. Beloved son, heaven’s angel.

A smiling face beamed a child’s innocent happiness inside a
heart, the same face in the picture in Diego’s office. She swallowed a lump,
stood cemented to a spot not ten feet from him.

Then Britt’s heart ceased beating when he dropped to his knees
and sobbed. She suppressed a gasp and reached a hand out, stopped herself from
stumbling to his side and interrupting.

“Your mama, she had to leave,” he said conversationally, his
voice crackling. “But she told me to tell you she loves you.”

He lifted a hand and stroked the picture on the tombstone.
“Tyler…” His shoulders trembled. Britt heard the faint sobs. They tore through
her like the slash of a knife. She longed to go to him, to hold him and soothe
the pain brought on by the accident that had caused his son to be
here—Carolyn’s alcoholism.

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve taken you with me. I shouldn’t
have let my anger get the better of me. I should have…” He shook his head, his
voice hitching as he clenched his fists atop his thighs. “It was childish and
irresponsible of me to storm out like that and abandon you. But you know what,
Tyler?” He stroked the picture, his voice taking on a tone of hope.

Britt took quiet steps until she stood next to him. Still,
he didn’t seem to notice her. Tears poured down his cheeks, washing away the
anger in Britt’s soul. “I-I’m working on my temper. A-and I’ve got this great
woman in my life now. B-Britt. Her name’s Britt. Isn’t that a cool name? She’s
so beautiful, so awesome, you’d—”

The gasp of tears tore from Britt’s throat.

His head snapped up. He turned and looked up at her, and the
agony she saw there in his tearstained face made her bite the back of her hand.

She fell to her knees and gathered him in her arms, the
naughty picture wadded in her hand.

“Britt…” He clutched at her, kissed her cheeks, her chin,
the top of her head.

She pulled back, combed her fingers through his hair. The
thick strands were damp with tears and sweat. “Diego, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t
mean to pry. I just…”

“You followed me?” He gripped her upper arms, stared into
her eyes. “What…what are you doing here?”

Her gaze shifted to the snapshot in her hand, but it swam
like a wad of trash through the tears that filled her eyes. She responded with
a question of her own, one that ate at her curiosity. “I-I guess this is why
you didn’t drink at the rally, or any time before you drive anywhere?”