Bittersweet Symphony (7 page)

“I would have. I would be lying if I said I wouldn’t. Given the chance, I know I would. He had already killed and broke me. At the very least, ending his pathetic life would have been worth it.” His teeth clench as he speaks; I worry his jaw is going to snap from the pressure he is putting on it.

His hand reaches out to grab a lock of my blonde hair that had loosened from behind my ear.

“I know you want to think that I’m the good guy, that I would never do anything wrong or hurt anyone. You have seen the good in me, but I’m not that person. I’m bad. I’m broken. And I’m not even sure I’m capable of whatever is going on between us.”

“Why are you telling me this?” There has to be a reason; most of those things I already knew.

“Because if I fuck this up, which I will, I want you to know that it wasn’t you. It was me. I was never meant to be the good guy in this fairytale.”

I roll my eyes at him. Clearly he has been watching too much Disney. Never in my life would I associate Ryder and fairytale in the same sentence.

“I want you to remember that no one’s perfect, Ryder, and that being angry and hating your dad for what he did is okay. You don’t have to feel guilty for feeling the way you do.”

There’s a pang of guilt that hits me just then. I am giving him the very advice I should give myself. I shouldn’t have ever felt guilty for not wanting to be with Sam.

“No one knows though, which makes it worse. Everyone assumes he’s someone that he isn’t. I hate him, and sometimes I even hate myself for allowing these things to happen, for allowing myself to get so far off track that I can’t even enjoy the simple things with you for fear that I’ll lose it. I’m not socially acceptable to society.”

I let out a snort and laugh that come out sounding like a pig on crack. “Who is? Tell me one person who doesn’t have a problem like us.” I glare at him, giving him that look between a mother who knows best and a friend ready to rip him a new one. Ryder has no self-esteem; when it comes to himself he is scared and afraid. He’s still that little boy who is constantly being beaten, even though he’s all grown up now.

“Most people don’t have problems like us…” he trails off. He doesn’t really know all of my life story; the one time we talked about it led to him getting angry. If I didn’t know all there was to know about his problems I would think he needed some serious anger management classes.

“Either way it doesn’t matter. Everyone has problems.” I take the last scoop of ice cream and place it my mouth. I watch as Ryder lets his melt into a liquidly mess because he’s too busy staring at my lips.

“You’re right, enough moping, let’s go walk along the beach and talk,” he says, grabbing my hand and leaving me a millisecond to throw my cup into the trash. He tugs me along through the sand.

“What was it like growing up for you?” he asks, his hand still in mine. It feels heavy, just like the question he asked me.

“It sucked. My mom and dad were both druggies, so I stayed with my grandparents until college. They helped me with what they could, and the rest I had to do on my own.” It’s the truth. I work my ass off for my scholarships and hold down a job while attending classes. I want to make something of my life, despite its shitty beginning.

“Your grandparents must be the cute, old couple who hit each other with canes, then?” Ryder teases, a toothy grin showing.

“Hardly…” I huff out. “My grandparents are the sweetest people to have ever walked the earth. They would give you the clothes off their back, and they raised me to look at life for what it is. Sometimes it’s hard, and sometimes it’s not. Everything in between you just have to ride `out, make of it as you will.” I damn well near quote the very sentence my grandmother always said.

“Wish my grandparents were that awesome…” He says pouting. I elbow him in the side.

“My turn.” I say throwing him a cheesy grin as we continue to trudge across the beach. We could probably walk either way north or south for miles without an interruption.

“Shoot,” he simply says.

“Why did you come out here if there isn’t anything for you to do? If you don’t go to classes? And you don’t feel like being here suits you then why stay? There are tons of places in the world that could be your hide out. You could turn it into one of those forts you made when you were a kid. The one out of blankets? You could burrow yourself anywhere and no one would try and come and find you.”

He lets out a belly shaking laugh… “You’re kidding right? Did you just refer to moving as the same as building a blanket fort in the living room and crawling in it and hiding?”

I stop dead in my tracks. Is he laughing at me?

“Are you laughing at me? Honestly, that is probably like the best idea I’ve ever had.”

He stops, realizing I’m not following and turns around to face me. The water is lapping at our feet and the coldness of it sends a shiver down my spine.

“Will you make a blanket fort with me?” he asks. His face is completely serious, not an ounce of anything else shows.

“Of course. Back in my day I use to be the blanket fort Queen,” I say giggling. It is so easy to be free and myself with Ryder. I’m not on the lookout for Sam, and I’m not wallowing in my own self-pity of hate. I am living, and I love it.

“Oh really?” he retorts with his eye brow raised.

“Yes really…” I say socking him in the arm. Silence passes and his hand lands in mine again.

“Do you really think I could leave and let everything go? Let my brother and father go? Just… Let it all lay where it is?” He looks at me earnestly. Do I really think that? I don’t know. I don’t know if leaving would make it all go away, but I know it would help.

“I don’t think it would make anything disappear but I think it would make it easier.” I give him the best answer I can as I shrug my shoulders.

“You want to know something Kennedy?” Ryder asks, stopping and picking up a handful of sand.

“Duh,” I mock back.

“Had I not come out here, I never would have met you. So yeah, there might be shit in my life I hate and regret, but coming out here isn’t one of them.”

He releases the crystals of sand and they fall in tiny pieces, one by one, blowing away into the wind. In that moment I am certain of two things: Ryder isn’t as hopeless as he assumes, and I am falling for him helplessly, just like the crystalized pieces of sand from his hand.

Could one really be considered an asshole for bringing a girl up to the ridge where he has taken most of his dates to fuck them? The answer to that, I think for certain, is yes. Then again, Kennedy is different in so many ways. We share a mutual secrecy. She respects my choices and listens. I’ve had an awesome, fucking day with her. Ice cream, the beach, and now I’m taking her up to the ridge.

In reality, it is just an opening on top of a bluff, similar to a “lover’s lane.”

I have a bottle of whiskey and the girl I want with me. Nothing can ruin this moment for me. This is my sliver of happiness in a shit filled life.

I throw the car into park as I watch Kennedy’s big, blue eyes survey the land. By the looks of it, she has never been up here. Hell, I haven’t been up here for the view before, so it is the first time I’m seeing it too.

“It’s beautiful,” she says, her voice clogs with an unknown emotion. I watch her as she gazes at the setting sun. Her blonde waves are shining brighter than ever. She looks like an angel, a beautiful, fucking angel.

I reach into the back of the car and pull out the bottle of whiskey. I wasn’t much of a drinker until college. I still don’t like it except for that it’s a really good way to numb out the shit in my life, to remove the pain and cloud the shitty picture.

“Are you going to drink that whole bottle?” she asks as her eyes examine the bottle in my hands. Her eyes show just how worried she is for me. Am I going to drink this whole bottle? Probably not, but I can try.

“No,” I say, twisting the cap off and putting the bottle to my mouth. Her eyes grow wide again. I don’t know if she likes drinking or not, but I swore if she says she doesn’t want me to drink, I will put the bottle down.

Then she does something totally unexpected. She reaches across the center console to grab the bottle from my hands and brings it up to her own pink, plump lips. I want so badly to grab her and bring her onto my lap. Her eyes close tightly as she takes a swig then shoves the bottle back at me.

“That is the worst shit ever,” she says, her eyes watering. With a disgusted look on her face, she wipes the small droplets of whiskey that are left on her lips with the back of her hand.

“It is pretty strong for a half pint like yourself,” I say, slamming back a chug or two. The warm liquid flows down my throat and into my belly, immediately warming me all over.

We sit quietly watching the sunset as more and more cars park around us. They aren’t up here for nearly the same thing as us, to admire the beauty of life. Then again, I wouldn’t mind doing what they are doing with Kennedy.

She reaches across the seat again for the bottle. This time I stop her though. Her eyes linger on me, and I have to force myself not to reach across and grab her.

“I want a drink…” Looking at Kennedy, never in a million years did I think I would have found someone like her.

“Here,” I say, giving her the bottle. I reach for the door handle and get out. I go to the trunk and get out the blanket I have back there. I’m not the romantic type, but I’m not going to make her sit on the ground. She is like a fine China to me.

“What are you doing?” she asks slightly giggly as she gets out of the car. She holds the bottle firmly in her hands. She looks calm, maybe even free.

“Are you drunk already?” I joke. I know she doesn’t drink, so I know she needs to go slowly, especially with whiskey. No matter what way you looked at it, she is a lightweight.

“Negative, ghost rider.” I pass her, slipping the bottle from her hands and into mine. I shoot her a smile that has most girls spreading their legs. I lay the blanket down over the small sprigs of grass. There are rocks on both sides of us, and it kind of feels like a little fort with the trees above as our canopy.

“Good. I don’t want to have to carry you back to the car.” I actually wouldn’t mind carrying her anywhere, to hold her body in my hands, to run my fingers over the dips and curves of her luscious…

“Can I ask you something?” she asks, interrupting my very nice thoughts.

“Sure. Isn’t that the point of today? Getting to know one another?” I have to know her more than anyone else.

“I suppose…” Her voice stops and her eyes grow large. I see a terror and agonizing pain flow through her. Someone behind us is making a bunch of racket, but I didn’t pay it any attention until now.

I turn around, taking notice of a chick being bent over the hood of a car. To me it is not a big deal, but to virgin ears well… I’m sure it is disturbing. Not so disturbing that it should scare her, though.

Then I hear it: the scream of a woman, the woman face down on the car. Above her I can see a man, about my height holding her firmly in place with one hand as he uses his other hand to undo his zipper.

It is then that I see red. Every bone in my body pushes to bring this fucker to the end of his life. I’m a douche, but not even I would do something like that.

I get up, hearing Kennedy’s protest to not start a fight. Once I am directly behind him, I tap him on the shoulder. The girl struggles to get free, whimpering.

“What the fuck….” he mutters, taken completely by surprise as he turns around. It’s then that I pull my fist back, plowing right into his nose over and over again. He’s a disgrace to the male species and I don’t stop until there’s blood coating my hands and Kennedy’s screaming.

I look up from the mess, the reality of what I’ve done sinking in. I release the man, but not before getting a look at his face. Sam? Suddenly it all makes sense. He rolls over to his side, groaning loudly. I kick his foot, wanting him to get up so I can deliver another blow to his face. I could kick him, but I’m not the type to kick a man when he’s down. That’s more my father’s thing.

“Get up!” I yell. I know everyone’s eyes are on me. I know Kennedy is scared, but at that moment, nothing matters to me more than making this pitiful excuse of a human pay. He gets to his knees, his chin raising ever so slowly.

“You’ll pay for this,” he says, spitting blood from his mouth.

I should feel badly, but I don’t. I bend down, gripping his jaw in my hand. My fingers ache to crush his jaw, so he can never mutter another word to anyone.

“Next time you try and take advantage of a woman, maybe make sure there isn’t anyone around to hear her screams. Or better yet, just don’t do it.” I can’t help myself as I bring my knee quickly to his chin. Sam falls to the ground helplessly. His body gives out.

I turn around, anger still raging inside of me. I don’t want to see the look of disgust on Kennedy’s face for what I just did. She watches me, her eyes running up my body. The way she’s looking at me is turning me on; then again, the built up aggression and having to hold myself back aren’t helping either.

I take a step toward her, raising my hands to calm her down, but she shudders away from me. I notice the tears streaming down her face, and my heart breaks knowing I’m the reason. I tried not to hurt her, but I did anyway.

I look at the girl that he had pinned to the top of his car.

“Are you okay?” I ask, not even recognizing my own voice. How could he do that to a girl and assume it was okay? My eyes skit back to his body on the ground. A quiet cry comes from the girl. The lighting is bad, but I can see the worry on her face. There isn’t any fear though, and that makes me worry. Has he done this more than once? Has he been attempting to do this to others? What if this happens to Kennedy? My mind heads down a path I can’t fathom, so many thoughts occurring at once.

I turn my attention back to the girl. “Are you really okay?” I’m not leaving until she gives me an answer.

She nods her head. I look down at Sam, making sure he’s was still out, then I walk away. I should ask her if she needs a ride or something, but I can’t handle another moment in his presence. 

Kennedy follows me as I walk back to the blanket. I feel like I walk miles before I make it back to the blanket.

“You didn’t have to do that!” I look up into Kennedy’s bright, blue eyes. There’s some serious pent-up aggression in there, but there’s also something else. Why is it so bad that I stopped that asshole from fucking up someone’s life? Unless she has a secret that I don’t know about, I just don’t understand why she is mad at me. This will teach Sam to leave her alone too.

“Would you rather I had let him do it?” That remark comes out snarkier than necessary, so I wipe my bloody hands on the blanket and take a rather large drink of whiskey.

“I would rather have you tell him to stop than to cause a huge fight! He can sue you, Ryder, and make your life hell.” She’s talking as if she knows from experience, and I’ll be damned if that doesn’t make me want to head right back over there and bury him six feet in the ground.

“Are you not telling me something, Blondie?” My voice comes out deeper than intended, making me sound all dark and raging.

She takes a step away from me as if she’s afraid or about to run. No way in hell am I letting her run away from me out here.

“I have nothing more to tell you than I already have.” Her words don’t wobble, but her eyes say something else. They are cast down as if she can’t bear to look me in the eyes.

I push off the blanket, coming to stand directly in front of her.

“From the way you reacted to what just went down, it sure seemed like it was a lot more than just something small. It sure seemed as if you knew firsthand what he was capable of. Has he done that to you?” I’m tense as I wait for her response. All I’m seeing in that moment is red. His blood will be dripping from my hands if he ever touches her like that.

“No,” she mumbles. It isn’t enough for me, though. She’s hiding something else.

“Tell me, now, before I go over there and beat the rest of it out of him.” It’s not a threat, and she knows it. I will not hesitate to go over and fuck him up even more.

“It’s you. You cause more problems for me by doing this. You may have stuck up for that girl, which was the right thing, but once he finds out who did that to him, he’s going to come for me. He already makes me life hell. We used to be best friends, and honestly I’m not even sure where it went wrong….” She pauses for a brief second. “That’s not the point though. Sam will make our lives hell; he will spread rumors…”

I can see and feel it in her. She’s genuinely afraid of that asshole. I know whatever he has on her is deep, so deep that she fears doing the wrong thing will bring her some sort of pain. No fucking way is that okay with me, not by any means.

“I would love to see him try. I was beat growing up. Pretty sure I could take a whipping from him.” I joke about it, but we both know I will blast him into the next year if he fucks with me or her.

A look of shock shows back at me. “Ryder, you don’t understand the power he has. You don’t understand what you have done by doing something like that.” Her voice is so quiet.

I reach a hand out to her, but she pulls away, looking past me. I am growing angrier with every passing second that she’s ignoring me. Who does she think she is to tell me that I can or can’t do something, to think that she can control me?

“He scares you, and I get that, but this is me, Kennedy. The fucked up me who you thought you could save. Look now… Am I worth saving?” I let out a hysterical laugh as if I’m a crazy ass, mad scientist.

She glares at me, a full on daggers to the head glare. She’s fuming; I can see the flames in her eyes, ready to give me a good licking, and I like it. No, I love it. I want to spark something else in her.

“Let’s go.” I grab the blanket off the ground and turn around to find a missing Kennedy. My gaze swings around. I peer into the car but see nothing. Then a branch to my left snaps, drawing my attention.

“Kennedy…” I growl, grinding my teeth together. I go from wanting to take her against the car to wanting to throw her over my shoulder in three seconds flats.

I throw the shit on the ground and trudge over to where I heard the snapping of sticks. I see Kennedy attempting to make her way through the brush as if she’s a real life ranger.

“Don’t be stupid, Kennedy… Come back here.” It’s like trying to coax someone off the ledge. She turns around, looks at me, and continues onward. Letting out a huge sigh, I take a step forward. There are branches in every direction, like it’s a trap.

I hear her quiet cries as I grow closer to her. Anxiety fills my stomach. Did she get hurt without me noticing? I take another large step. Reaching out to her, I wrap my arm around her, holding her in place. She turns into my chest as if giving up.

“Are you okay?” I ask as calmly as I can while having all this built up aggression.

She sniffles as if she’s holding back tears. I feel my heart constricting. The fear of losing or hurting her is enough to erase anything else that’s important in my mind.

“He’s going to do something. It’s going to be bad, and it’s going to affect both of us. You know that, right?” Her voice is muffled into my chest. Her breathing is heavy as well, and I can’t tell if it’s because of what’s going on or because of the close proximity of our bodies.

“Let him, K. Let him try to break us. I want to see him try. I want to see him even attempt to make a stab at you. You know why?” I grip her chin and turn her face up toward mine.

“Why?” she whispers.