The Unloved (13 page)

“Oh, God, you’re beautiful, Angel. Fucking beautiful,” he said, unzipping his pants and brushing the back of his free hand against my cheek.

I closed my eyes tight and held my breath, unable to look at him or think about what he was about to do. Gathering my courage I dug my fingernails into my palms, waiting for the right moment to strike him in the nose like I’d seen on TV and then sprint out the door.

A knock sounded at the door and my mother’s voice called out, “Dwayne, are you in there, sugar?”

He pressed his finger to my lips, hard, and let out a huff of frustration. “Uh, yeah. I’ll be out in just a second.”

“Okay,” she said, sounding oblivious to the fact that I was in here with him. The sound of her house slipper-covered feet shuffling away from the door and back down the hall came next.

“Next time, princess,” he promised, licking his tongue along the side of my cheek. I closed my eyes again and withered away, but his fingers gripped my face, holding me in place. “Your mama’s ready for me now.”

His lips crushed hard against mine and the stench of his mouth, moldy cigarettes and alcohol, filled my nostrils, making me gag.

Dwayne pulled open the bathroom door and walked away, leaving me trembling against the wall from what had almost happened.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

NICK

I pulled into Jules’ driveway, eyeing the Ford pickup parked beside her mom’s car. I’d thought her mom worked every weekend, but apparently not this weekend. I started toward the front door, but once I was halfway there Jules opened it and slipped outside. Her eyes were bright and glossy, and her chest and face were splotchy like she’d been crying or was fighting it back extremely hard.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, concern flaring within me at the sight of her.

“I want to leave; please just take me someplace.” She hurriedly walked to the passenger side of my mom’s car.

“Okay,” I said, fumbling to get the keys out of my front pocket.

“What happened?” I wondered as I slid into the driver’s seat and started the car, my concern turning to fear and paranoia the longer she made me wait for an answer.

“A H.H.L.M. from hell. Please, just get me away from that awful house,” she pleaded.

I glanced over and saw tears falling from her eyes. “Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere but here.”

I drove in silence to Grayson Park, where the multitude of various fall-colored leaves blocked out the slowly darkening sky, and I was sure we wouldn’t be interrupted because no one came here during the cooler season. Grayson Park was mainly used for barbecues, family reunions, and summer birthday party cookouts.

I opened my door and then walked around to Jules’. She sat in the seat, curled into a little ball, glassy eyed and unresponsive. I crouched down to her level and stared at her as fear of what might have happened to her began to burn through me, slowly turning to anger toward whoever had hurt her. Whoever had made her cry.

“Jules, tell me what happened. Please,” I begged.

“Dwayne,” was all she could say before the tears flowed from her eyes again, cutting off her voice.

My heart slammed against my ribcage and sweat broke out across my brow. I knew who Dwayne was; he was her mother’s new P.O.S. boyfriend. My fingers tightened on the door handle I hadn’t let go of just yet. “What about him, Jules?”

“He almost did it, Nick. It was the closest anyone has ever gotten. I was so scared.” She sobbed. “So scared.”

I wasn’t sure which I felt more in that moment—heartbroken or pissed. After a few minutes, heartbroken won. I pulled Jules from the car and into my lap, cradling her in my arms and stroking her hair as she cried until her tears finally ran dry because I didn’t know what else to do.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

JULIE

I spent that night at Nick’s house, lying in his bed, curled in his strong arms. I’d never felt more safe. I didn’t sleep though; I couldn’t. Every time I closed my eyes Dwayne was unbuttoning his pants again in my mind. So instead, I lay awake listening to Nick’s even breathing and caressing his forearm with my fingertips. I kissed the scar beneath his left earlobe and the one on the side of his chin, grateful he’d come back into my life.

~

Another week passed and just like always there was another party to attend if we wanted; this time it was out at Saxton Camp, a place out in the middle of nowhere where supposedly Native Americans used to live back in the day. Every year Corey Emerson threw a massive bonfire party there because there were no neighbors to call and complain about the noise and no cops would drive that far out to bust it up.

I’d only been there once for a party and I’d enjoyed myself, more or less, but this time I wasn’t going for me, I was going for Nick. Because after what had happened the weekend before, I figured I owed it to him to attend a freaking party and have some fun.

~

I walked across the street to Nick’s house in a pair of gray sweatpants and a navy blue hoodie around noon and noticed the garage door was wide open. Music blared from the speakers he’d put inside and I could hear the clanking noise of his weights as he worked out. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as I got closer and imagined what he’d be wearing, or wouldn’t be. I stopped and leaned up against the garage entrance, taking in the sight of Nick with no shirt on as he raised the barbell, extending his arms all the way out above him and then bringing it back down to just inches above his chest.

He placed it back into its grooves and sat up, his back, glistening with sweat, facing me. I didn’t speak as I watched him reach down in front of him for a towel off the floor and begin wiping off his chest.

“Like what you see?” he asked, startling me completely. I hadn’t realized he’d noticed me walking up.

I swallowed hard. “Maybe,” I answered over the loud music from the speakers.

Nick turned around and flashed me a crooked grin as he continued to wipe away his sweat. “Maybes can be good.”

My cheeks burned and my stomach flip-flopped from the sight of his upper body. I shifted my eyes from him and stared at the CD player in the corner. The source of his crazy music.

“What are you listening to? It sounds like this guy is grunting into the microphone,” I said, hoping to push through my heated infatuation with the view of him I had in front of me. I’d come over here to talk to him for a reason, but I couldn’t remember exactly what for at the moment. I was dazed.

“
Disturbed
…and they do a lot of grunting into the microphone; that’s why I like them,” he said, standing and moving to turn it up just a tad bit more. He walked straight toward me and I felt my breath hitch in my throat. “But he’s not grunting here…he’s saying
fuck
.”

The music flowed over me as I attempted to decipher what the lead singer was saying. It was something about needing a fuck and putting it on credit. My jaw slacked. “What the hell is this song about? Fucking prostitutes?”

“It’s talking about a man’s primal need for sex. How he just needs one tiny little innocent fuck,” he said simply, just as the music changed tempo and slowed to something Arabian sounding right in the middle of the song.

The drums started up again and Nick was right in front of me, his eyes boring into me, his shoulders moving perfectly with the pounding of the drums. I licked my lips and looked away, a flush coming to my cheeks again. He inched closer, so close I could smell the sweat from his workout and the scent of his masculine soap mingling in the air between us. Nick gripped my face gently and turned it toward his, forcing me to meet his stare.

“And don’t deny me, no baby now, don’t deny me. And darlin’ don’t be afraid.” He sung to me, drawing out each syllable in sync with the lead singer.

I felt my knees go weak from the intensity of his words and the heated gaze he held me immobilized with. Our lips met and I wasn’t sure who had leaned in first, me or him, as my own lips surprised me with their needy aggression. Nick’s lips slowed after a moment, forcing me to move mine beneath his at a far slower pace, and I ran my hands along the exposed muscles of his bare back.

It was then that I realized what I’d come over to say. I had a surprise for him. Pulling away reluctantly, I put a few inches between us and said, “Ride with Blake and Emily to the bonfire tonight or take your mom’s car, if she’ll let you.”

“Why?” he asked, obviously perplexed, but too preoccupied with trying to taste my lips again to look me in the eye.

“Because Tiffany is going to pick me up. I have sort of a surprise for you and I don’t want you to see it until we’re at the party,” I said suddenly, feeling stupid for making a big deal about my
surprise
. All it was was me dressing up a bit for him and leaving my security blanket hoodie at home.

“Oh, really?” He smirked. “Well, you’re in luck, Julie Porter, because I happen to like surprises.”

“I’m glad,” I said, leaning in for another peck and then backing away quickly before he could freeze me in place with his gentle kisses and solid body once more.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

NICK

I stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around my bottom half before heading back to my room to get dressed. I was in the middle of pulling on a pair of faded jeans that hung a little low on my hips when I heard a voice coming from the living room I’d never expected to hear so soon.

“I know I need some fucking help, okay? It’s why I’m here,” dad yelled.

I pulled on the first shirt I saw in my closet, a brown plaid button up, and bolted down the hallway. When I stepped out into the living room dad was sitting on the couch with his head cradled in his hands.

“Mom? What’s going on?” I asked without taking my eyes off my dad.

“It’s okay, Nick. You can go on ahead to that party you asked to go to. I’ve got things under control here,” mom insisted, holding a hand out to me.

I shifted my gaze to her; she looked petrified. “Like hell you do. What’s going on? What’s he doing here?”

“I’m here trying to work things out with your mother. Is that fucking all right with you, son?” dad asked, his bloodshot eyes meeting mine.

I bit the inside of my cheek and stared at him, locking my gaze with his. He was drunk. Plastered. I could tell. “No, that’s not all right with me. You don’t belong in this house anymore,” I spat, feeling every ounce of venom I had toward him lace each word.

“What did you just say to me, boy?” he asked, pushing up off the couch to stand, but I knew damn good and well that he’d heard me.

“Enough,” mom said, taking her hands and pressing them firmly on dad’s shoulders to push him back onto the couch. “Richard, sit. Nick, let me talk to you for a minute in the kitchen.”

I only followed her and kept my mouth shut because of the pleading look in her eyes. “What do we have to talk about? Why are you even letting him back in the house? What about the restraining order?”

“Because he needs help, honey, and he’s finally at a point where he’s able to admit it. What am I suppose to do, turn him away when he’s finally gotten to a point where he might take a turn for the better?” Her eyes darted back and forth wildly between mine as she spoke.

“Yes. You’re supposed to turn him away,” I answered flatly.

“He’s not going to stay here, if that’s what you’re worried about. He’s going to stay at a clinic where he can get all the support he needs to rid himself of his addiction. I’ve already helped him make the call.” There was so much hope in her eyes it almost made
me
feel hopeful. Almost.

“What is it, like hardcore AA or something?” I asked, calming down some.

She nodded. “Yes, sort of. It’s a final step for him. He got another DUI and the judge took his license for three years. This clinic is sort of mandatory at this point.”

I let out a breath. “And he’s actually agreeing to go through with it?”

“He is.” She smiled.

I couldn’t believe it. My dad was checking himself into a rehab for drunks. He’d finally hit rock bottom. My eyes shifted to the redness on her wrist. He’d been rough with her again.

“Are they going to help him with his anger issues, too?” I asked, meeting her gaze dead on, my jaw clenched tight.

“He’ll have to deal with all of that there, too, yes. He’ll be there for a while.” She rubbed the spot on her wrist I’d noticed as she spoke.

“Where is it? Where’s this place at?”

“Cambridge.”

“That’s like five hours away. How’s he getting there if he doesn’t have a license?” I knew the answer already. I knew that was why he was here, but I asked anyway.

“I’m driving him there first thing in the morning, so don’t be out until the wee hours of the morning with my car.” She winked at me, obviously trying to lighten the mood.