Blind Love (Sulfur Heights Series) (26 page)

The afternoon carries on and I successfully avoid being alone
with Jake for the most part. We all sing happy birthday and enjoy cake while Mia face plants her mouth into the ladybug cake Presley has made. It is very funny and unbelievably cute.

I’m helping clean up the dishes when Jake comes up behind me. He
doesn’t touch me, but he does stand really close. It’s close enough that I can feel his breath on my neck and it starts the tingling between my legs. “Are you sure you can’t stay over?”

I clear my throat and pick another plate to wash. I dip it into the water and run the washcloth over the plate
. “I can’t stay over. Emerson and I have some wedding planning to do and my mother needs my help with a benefit she’s putting on.”

His posture stiffens as he backs away from me, noticeably getting angry. I’m such a damn fool right now. I should have never let Las Vegas happen. He’s all confused and will be hurt when my wedding day arrives in May.

After I finish drying the dishes and put them away, I make my rounds to everyone saying goodbye, not knowing when I will see them again, when Presley walks up to me, holding Mia in her arms. I am so proud of her. She’s come a long way in the last six months and it’s just a blessing she’s with us.

I wrap my arms around her and her baby
. “I’m so proud of you, Presley. Your strength amazes me. I love you so much.” Tears start to form in my eyes and hers.

She hands Mia over to Drake and grabs me into her arms. “Thank you
, Delilah. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. You’ve been so strong for me your entire life and I don’t think I can ever repay you. But I promise,” she pulls herself at arm’s length, looking deeply into my eyes, “you’ll never see me unhappy again.”

Her words rock me to my core. She’s never been so sure, so determined in the years I’ve known her. I
’m in awe of her character and I know she’s speaking the truth. I will always remember her as happy because she will never be that sad person ever again.

Jake

I’m lying in bed trying to get some much needed shut eye. Ever since I kissed Delilah in Vegas nothing in my life
has been normal. I can’t get past the feel of her lips on mine and the jolt of electricity that surged straight to my soul the moment we pressed our lips together. What the hell is wrong with me? Vegas has been months ago. I shouldn’t be hung up like this. I can’t seem to look at another woman without going back to that damn kiss, though.

A c
ommotion breaks my reverie when I hear muffled scuffling on my ceiling. It sounds like people are fighting. Drake and Reggie are probably sparring again inside the house. That’s all those fuckers do is go back and forth, hitting one another; it’s rather annoying.

Then Reggie’s voice elevates to anger and confirms they’re not spa
rring, something heated is happening, and before I know it, my feet are traveling up the stairs just as Drake is flying out toward me.

“What the
hell are you sh
o—
” I can’t even get a sentence out when Drake pushes me back and starts flying down the back stairs with Presley and Reggie hot on his steps. I look to Darcie, who just gives me a head nod to follow them all outside, and that’s when all hell breaks loose.

Everything is spinning out of control and our world is forever changed by the sound of a loud pop. Before I
can even comprehend the situation, some dude is running down the driveway while the metal sound of a gun hits the concrete. Then Jeremy is gone, sprinting after the unknown man.

Out of instinct, I drop to the stairs to take cover, but when the
gut-wrenching screams shred my eardrums, I stand to my feet and my eyes begin to focus on the last disastrous seconds, landing on the most horrific scene I’ve ever had to witness.

Blood is pooling around Drake’s legs as he collapses onto the ground by Presley. Holy shit!

Did he shoot him?

Why would someone sho
ot him?

What the hell just happened?

As Darcie pushes on my back, I quickly follow and want to see with my own eyes my brother bleeding from a gunshot wound, but it’s not him—it’s Presley. I look over to Reggie in the driveway, his voice escalated and booming. Reggie’s phone is pressed up against his ear and he’s screaming to the 911 operator for an ambulance.

I focus my attention back to the tragedy in
front of me where Drake is whispering words to Presley and she’s whispering back. I let out a sigh of relief, knowing she’s still alive, but she looks… she looks horrible. Rage is igniting my body as I watch a girl who’s like a sister to me—the mother of my precious niece—bleeding on the concrete. I don’t know who this fucker is, but once I find out, I can’t wait to get my hands on him because he will pay for what he’s done. Presley better walk away from this unscathed for his sake, or he will know what pain really feels like.

Darcie joins Drake on the ground, holding Presley’s hand and comforting her as best as she can
while I walk to Reggie who still has 911 on the phone when Jeremy comes stalking up the driveway. He is winded and the look in his eyes is murderous. I walk to meet him in the middle of the driveway. The glare is one I’ve never seen before.

Jeremy can be a mean son of a bitch, but this is completely something else. He looks unstable, livid and psychotic. My body starts to feed off his energy and my rage begins to boil to unimaginable heights
, matching his fury with that of my own. We are pacing, ticking time bombs and we are ready for anything, ready to explode. I haven’t felt this kind of anger since Grady McGuire almost raped Darcie our senior year.

“Is…
is she dead?” Jeremy asks, his voice quiet as night, but it’s laced with evil.

“No, she’s still talking. Who was that asshole?” I think about who it could possibly be and that’s when I remember he’s the guy our good, wholesome Drake would break in half if he ever laid eyes on him. “Wait a second…
was that Carter?”

Jeremy just nods his head, physically unable to speak because he’s so angry. His arms are trembling with adrenaline as he begins to pace back and forth, on the verge of snapping. I move to his front, blocking
his path and his murderous eyes connect with mine; they are feral and wild. Jeremy is teetering on a dangerous edge and suddenly my rage dissipates. For once in my life, our roles are reversed as I prepare myself to stop Jeremy from doing something stupid.

“Do you know how bad this is?” Jeremy whispers as I nod my head. “If she dies, and he’s caught by
the police, all of this… all of this will be gone.” He waves his hand out to the air.

He’s not making any sense. Why wouldn’t we want him caught by police? That dickhead deserves to spend the rest of his life in
a Michigan prison. They’re one of the roughest prisons in America and that fucker deserves everything he gets there. I hope a huge, disgusting pig makes that fucker his bitch.

Confused by his statement
, I start to ask, “Why wouldn’t you—”

I’m stopped short when a sound so scarring stops the words coming from my mouth. Turning my head, my eyes connect with Drake’s broken body as he picks up Presley’s bloody
one in his arms and is screaming, sobbing, wailing with grief. It is a sound so disturbing that I’m sure it will haunt me and be the reason for many sleepless nights in the future.

Reggie leaves us as and falls to Darcie’s side
, wrapping her up in his arms. She is crying, too, but nothing compares to the sound of Drake’s voice. It’s the sound of a broken heart, bleeding through the air.

The sirens of the ambulance drown out any other sound and I’m fortunate for the minute of relief. I don’t think I could hear Drake’s sobbing for one more second before I started breaking down myself.

As the paramedics make their way to the scene, Drake is forced to put Presley down and step away from her body. It takes some coaxing from Reggie to get him to move away from her, but after several minutes, he is able to back away. He’s standing shirtless, skin and jeans covered in her blood. Drake looks down at his crimson stained hands and breaks apart all over again, collapsing into the chain link fence and falling to the ground.

I don’t know what to do for him, but I run to my brother’s side and fall with him. Drake grabs onto my shirt and cries into my shoulder, making my own eyes fill with tears. Something I haven’t felt in my eyes since I was a kid. I hold him against me and look around at the scene before me.

Reggie is standing with Darcie by his side, talking to the police officers who’ve arrived shortly after the paramedics, while Jeremy has disappeared into the garage, hiding his own emotion and I am sitting on the ground, letting my brother cry his broken heart onto my shoulder.

***

A couple of tortuous hours have passed by since Presley has been shot. The police detectives have finished working the crime scene in our driveway and are now on the hunt for Carter Brown.

None of us were shy when we disclosed who Carter was and how he
had been affiliated with Presley. We told them about Presley’s drug problems, explained their relationship prior to her treatment, and how he’d threatened Presley earlier this morning. Drake spoke only when directed questions, but he was in too much shock to really say anything. It was mostly Reggie and Darcie answering questions; Jeremy was still MIA in the garage. He needed to step away from everything, I’d never seen his eyes look so psycho and I didn’t know what he was capable of in that terrifying moment.

Reggie and Darcie follow Drake up the stairs and help him into the house
while I stand in the driveway, looking at the blood stain on the concrete. It’s amazing when you wake up in the morning, everything feeling so normal and routine. Then you finish your day, life can totally fuck with you, and suddenly you’re watching a member of your family get shot dead right in front of you.

T
he sickening part of all of this is now I have to break the news to Presley’s best friend. How does a person prepare for something like this? I’ve never in my life thought I would have to break horribly life altering news to someone who’s become such a significant part of my life. Delilah has been on the forefront of my mind all day, every day since Vegas, and now I have to destroy her by telling her that her childhood friend has been murdered hours ago.

I pull my cell phone out of my pocket and light up the screen. There she is
, smiling back at me, so pretty and looking like I remember her in Vegas in that beautiful purple dress hugging her magnificent curves and the long, blonde strands of her hair are swept over her shoulder as her ocean blue eyes drown me.

God, I’m going to ruin her
. I don’t think I have the balls to do it, either. I don’t want to hear the anguish in her voice on the other end of the phone. Delilah has confided in me how she fears getting the phone call that will tell her Presley didn’t make it, that she’s overdosed or committed suicide, but now I have to tell her that she sacrificed her own self to save the man she loves.

I scroll through my contacts and locate Delilah’s phone number
. Just as I’m about to hit send, Reggie comes out the back door, Drake’s blood stained clothes in his hands. My stomach drops to my feet at seeing the blood-drenched jeans. Reggie walks to the burn barrel in the backyard and tosses them in. Saturating the denim in lighter fluid, he strikes a match and the orange flames light up the steel barrel as the embers dance in the night sky.

“Have you called Delilah yet?” His voice is deep and sad.

“I was just getting ready to call her. I don’t want to do this, Reg. This will kill her and I don’t think I have balls to devastate her like that,” I admit, trying to choke back the sadness surfacing in my throat.

“No one does, Jake, but you have to. She needs to be here with us
. Presley would want her here with us.”

Reggie’s right. Presley loved Delilah
; they were as close as sisters. Delilah needs to know what’s happened. Then she can be here with us and we can grieve together as a family.

Without another word,
Reggie claps me on the shoulder and leaves me standing alone in the backyard. I stare at the hypnotic blaze in the barrel and muster up the courage to break my best friend’s heart.

Delilah

I am sitting on my bed
, attempting to study, while “Blurred Lines” by Robin Thicke is blasting from my stereo when my cell phone interrupts my solo jam session. On the screen is a picture of Jake’s goofy drunk face that I took when we were at the strip club in Las Vegas. I still can’t believe he took me there, and I got on the stage and danced. Jake is nothing like Emerson; he’s unpredictable and out of control, but God do I adore it. I feed off his energy and suddenly I’m doing something crazy like dancing on a stage at a strip club, jumping off a building or flying down the road going one hundred mph. The feeling is insane and scary.

I start get
ting the tingling feeling of adrenaline when the phone rings two more times, prompting me to finally answer it. “Greetings, my crazy BFF.”

“Hi. What…
what are you doing?” His voice is quiet and sounds different.