Bent not Broken (251 page)

“Love rapes your mother right in front of you while she weeps, telling you that Mommy’s ok,” I hoarsely whispered, my throat strangled with years of emotion. “It touches you in ways and in places that it should never, ever touch you, trying to murder the last bits of your innocence. It kills you, cripples you. It leaves you damaged beyond repair.”

I stood before him, naked and bleeding, my impaired soul exposed for him to witness every ugly scar. “That’s love, Blaine. Why the fuck would I want that? Why would anyone want that?”

Blaine stepped towards me, his arms outstretched, ready to fix the broken girl. But I didn’t want his sympathy. I didn’t need him to save me. I wanted him to save himself.

“Kam, baby…” he rasped, his horror-stricken eyes glazed with tears. “Baby, I’m so sorry. Please, let me…”

“No,” I deadpanned, moving out of his reach. “No, don’t try to make this better. You can’t make it better. And I don’t want you to.”

“Just let me…”

“Seriously! Stop it, Blaine! I don’t want your charity! I’m not your little pet project! Stop trying to push me into being what you want me to be! I am not your mother!”

Blaine stopped his advance and looked at me with confusion and pain marring his face. He was just as open and injured as I was, plagued by my horrid account. I had him right where I needed him. And, as excruciating as it was, I said goodbye to the man I loved more than I hated myself before slipping on my cold, unfeeling mask and I went in for the kill.

“I am not what you want, and I don’t want to be. I don’t love you, Blaine, and I never will. So let’s stop wasting our time and face the inevitable,” I spat as I gestured between us. “This is over. Done. There was never a future for us. Never a happily-ever-after. And the more we keep pretending there is one, the more I despise the thought of it. Goodbye, Blaine. It was fun while it lasted. But let’s not keep forcing something that’s not meant to be.”

Blaine’s expression was completely solemn as he looked back at me, waiting for the punch line to a cruel, tactless joke. But he knew just as well as I did that it would never come. He knew that what we had had crumbled into a heap on the floor leaving nothing but a mess of ashes. In a matter of minutes, I had managed to taint countless tender kisses, heated caresses, and longing stares. Things that we both held onto like lifesavers in the tumultuous storms of our pasts. Things that gave us hope for a future without pain and guilt and fear.

All of it. Gone.

I had successfully pushed away the only man I ever gave a damn about because I was too afraid to love him. But not only that, I was too afraid of what his love would do to me. I knew how shitty life could be. I knew, sooner or later, his love would hurt me. And being that I was now so vulnerable to him, my heart exposed and on display for him to see and crush in the palm of his ink-adorned hand, there would be no coming back from that. I would have no chance of survival.

Without a word, Blaine turned and walked out of my room while I stood there, steeped in my own hatred and affliction, numb and completely still. I didn’t move after I heard the front door close. I didn’t even blink as reality began to set in. I couldn’t. I couldn’t feel it. I couldn’t let myself believe it, even though it was what I caused.

Blaine was gone. And he was never coming back.

Chapter 27

Blaine

The mind is a tricky thing.

You can tell it to ignore the signs. To play dumb and let shit happen, even though you know it will only screw you in the end. To continue on like a damn fool, setting yourself up for failure.

Ignorance is bliss.

And the mind is a bliss-seeking, stupid motherfucker.

I knew all along that it was coming. I knew Kami would selfishly hang on to her insecurities like a shield in an attempt to protect herself. And in the process, she would hurt anyone that attempted to penetrate the armor.

She was smart. That was what I should’ve done. But instead, I was a sucker. The sucker that fell in love with the girl who was terrified of the mere mention of the word. The fool who sacrificed his heart time and time again, thinking someone would actually see that he was so much more than the rough exterior.

Love was a bitch. And she was squeezing me by the nuts.

I didn’t realize I was at Dive until the smells of beer and fried food assaulted my nostrils, making me even more aware of my afflicted state of mind. I bypassed the questioning looks and whispers, grabbing a beer from the cooler and slid onto a barstool without so much as a cordial greeting. I didn’t care. I was done caring. Caring got you nowhere. And that’s exactly where I was. Nowhere.

Uncle Mick spotted me and furrowed his brow, not expecting to see me in on my day off, especially alone. I pretended not to notice him but I knew he was already making his way towards me.

“Didn’t expect to see you here tonight, son,” he said gruffly, clapping me on the back. “Everything ok?”

I took a swig of my beer, not even bothering to face him to answer. “Fine.”

Maybe it was the flat, dead tone of my voice that served as an invitation, because the next thing I knew, he was climbing onto the stool next to me. I kept right on staring at nothing. Thinking of nothing. Feeling like nothing.

Minutes ticked by without either one of us saying a word. I was used to it. Silence I could deal with. It blanketed the words I didn’t want to say. It numbed the ache that seemed to radiate from my chest like a gaping bullet wound.

“You always did feel more than anybody else,” he said out of the blue, his voice rough and permanently hoarse from decades of smoking. “Couldn’t help taking on everyone’s pain like it was your own. Would even bring home old, banged up strays when you were just a youngster. Your mama used to say you were empathetic. Said you had a heart bigger than your brain.”

I continued to sip my beer, trying to block out my uncle’s mindless ramblings. What was his point? Did it look like I was in the mood to take a walk down memory lane?

I knew coming here was a bad idea. There was no way I could sit undisturbed to wallow in my misery, but I only had two other options: Ms. Patty’s or my place. Ms. Patty’s was out of the question. She would no doubt expect me to spill my guts and wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Going to my place first had been a huge mistake. It just didn’t feel like home anymore. Not without Kami there. She had ruined it for me. Every surface and corner was laced with a memory of her. Her warmth and light had given those bricks and wood life. Being without her, knowing that those four walls would never exude peace and happiness again, seriously had me thinking about moving.

Uncle Mick cleared his throat and scrubbed a hand over his face. “You’re a lot like she was. We used to fight like cats and dogs when we were kids. Hell, she was a scrappy little thing,” he laughed, his voice echoing with nostalgia. “But she had a heart of gold. Like you. She couldn’t help it and neither can you. Sometimes, loving people can be just as much of a gift as it is a curse. Because some people…you can’t help but love. Even when you know it will hurt you in the end.”

I couldn’t tell if he was talking about my mother, or me, or even himself. But I knew that every word was true. Some people you couldn’t help but love. You loved them without reservation or fear. You loved them hard and fierce, because they deserved it. They deserved to be loved just as much as you deserved for them to return it.

But life – love - didn’t work like that. It was rarely rational or just. It destroyed relationships and brought even the strongest people to their knees in agony.

It was exactly what Kami believed it to be.

“Is there a point to all this?” I snapped, suddenly annoyed by his presence. I still refused to look at him. Seeing him, a face that housed features similar to my mother’s, similar to mine, would only bring my tormented emotions to the surface. It would make me
feel.
I couldn’t have that. Not now. Not anymore.

“The point is, son… everyone has baggage, some more than others. Some people have a tote bag. Others have an entire trunk full of drama. You, Blaine, have a carry on. And that girl of yours has a full set of luggage. You know that as well as I do. And the type of person you are, the type of man that you have grown to be, you expect to be able to shoulder all that baggage alone. You can’t; that’s not your job. You can’t take away all her problems. No matter how bad you want to, you can’t carry it all and expect for that heavy burden not to crush you under its weight.”

I felt his hand on my shoulder. “Stop trying to carry it all alone. Taking it away doesn’t make it any less hers. It just weighs you down, son. You’re only one person. One man. You can’t expect to save someone that doesn’t want to be saved.”

I swallowed down my next gulp of beer through the tightness in my throat but the foul taste of rejection remained. I knew my uncle was right. Hell, he usually was. But I wasn’t ready to hear that. I wasn’t ready to accept that Kami just didn’t want me.

She didn’t want me to save her. She didn’t even believe she was worth saving.

The booming sounds of my cousin’s boisterous laughter flooded my ears, drawing my attention from the harshness of truth. I hated to admit it, but his presence was welcomed. CJ was a distraction. And right now, I needed that the most.

Tinkling feminine laughter accompanied him, stopping right beside me. Uncle Mick snorted before climbing to his feet. “Remember what I said, son,” he said before heading to the back, shooting his son and his company a frustrated look.

I could feel CJ’s eyes on me, but I continued to look ahead. CJ was a lot of things but he wasn’t stupid. He knew when no words were necessary. Too bad his entourage didn’t get the memo.

A small hand slipped over my shoulder, squeezing the tight tendons. I was too numb to even care enough to brush it off. “Hey, Blaine, it’s so good to see you again.”

I recognized the voice as Wendy’s, but I didn’t bother to offer my own greeting. Judging by the way her manicured fingers raked down my arm, it didn’t seem to offend her.

Without saying a word, CJ slipped behind the bar, earning a frown from Corey, the other bartender. He bypassed the liquor displayed on the shelves and dipped down to a hidden cabinet where we stored the premium alcohol reserved for big spenders aka pretentious douchebags.

Two glasses and a bottle of Johnnie Walker Platinum were placed before me. The girls behind us nearly shit themselves when they saw it, until they realized there were no glasses for them. Luckily, CJ handed them apple martinis to shut them up before opening the scotch and pouring a good amount in each glass.

“To not giving a fuck,” he said holding up his glass.

Another petite arm snaked around my shoulders, and Wendy pressed her double Ds into my back. I could almost feel her hardened nipples through the thin barriers of clothing. I looked down at the amber liquid before me and picked it up. Wendy giggled and ran her fingers through my hair.

“To not giving a fuck.”

Chapter 28

Kami

The familiar buzzing of my cell phone grew louder and more annoying as I worked to ignore it. I couldn’t acknowledge it. Couldn’t even begin to let myself wonder who it could be. That involved feeling and right now with my emotions pressing at the dam of my resolve, feeling was out of the question.

I packed away the food on the table including the uneaten flan - the flan that I had made especially for Blaine that he would never try. My stomach twisted and roiled as my heart dropped into my gut.

Don’t go there. Don’t do that to yourself. He’s gone. He’s done with you. That’s what you wanted. Don’t start that pity party shit now.

I shook my head, trying to quiet my cynical, inner asshole, and focused on washing each dish with thorough precision. I wanted everything spotless, everything beautiful and sparkling. I could control this. I could clean and make everything neat and tidy. But my life? My life was shit. Dark, vile, filthy shit. I couldn’t change that. I couldn’t control it. And every time I felt like I had gotten a handle on it, fear bitch-slapped the taste of hope right out of me.

I fingered the jar of tiny iridescent stars between my fingertips and sat down on my bed. 253. Two hundred fifty-three reasons why I couldn’t let Blaine love me.

I hated these fucking stars and everything they represented. I hated that I couldn’t just throw them away and never feel the impulse to count them again. But most of all, I hated myself. I hated what
he
created, what
he
left behind…and what
she
forgot.

The jar shook in my hands until I let it tumble onto the comforter. I flexed my fingers, staving off the trembles that preluded the panic attack on the horizon. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t revert back to some pathetic, wounded bird every time this shit happened. This was how it would be; this was my life. There was no reason to cry about something that I couldn’t control. I needed to just suck it up and stop letting it affect me.

The buzzing started back up again, and this time I jumped up to stop it. Anything to distract my mind from the breakdown that was on its way in 5…4…3…2…

“Hello?”

“Kam? Damn, girl, it’s about time,” Angel shouted from the receiver. Rock music blared on the other side, accompanied with random peals of raucous laughter. “We’ve been calling you all night!”

“Why?”

“Well…um…we came into Dive, and…”

“
And
if you don’t get your ass down here
right now
, I
will
be spending the night in jail,” Dom’s voice boomed. Angel furiously whispered for him to calm down and shut up before she was back on the line.

“Kam, sweetie, uh, I just think you should come by. Like, the sooner the better.”

“No.”

“No? But why not?” she whined.

“Because I don’t feel like it.” That wasn’t entirely true.

“Please? Um, I’m really drunk. So is Dom. We need a ride home.”

I knew she was lying. I just didn’t have it in me to call her on her bullshit. Not when I was currently up to my elbows in my own.