Crave Me (The Good Ol' Boys #4) (4 page)

Two years had gone by since I killed my parents.

They say that when you experience trauma, a drastic, life-alternating change, you’re suddenly forced to grow up. Become wiser beyond your years. Mature in ways that didn't make sense except to the people who may have experienced similar events.

I knew that was the case with me.

I was eight-years-old and living with my Uncle Alejandro in New York. I had been taken away from everything I had ever known and was brought there, in a city full of buildings and no one to talk to.

Home
.

He moved me across the country to start a new life, a life much different than the one back home in Washington.

No warmth.

No happiness.

No love.

I had a life back there. I had everything I could ever ask for. I lived in a home full of love and laughter. Pictures lined the walls of my home. The fridge was covered with my drawings. Daisies were always on our table.

My family. 

I had none of those things there.

No friends.

No family.

No parents.

Uncle Alejandro hired a nanny to take care of me, but all she did was cook my meals, clean my clothes, and watch over me. She smelled funny and didn’t say much. My driver, Esteban, was the only person who was actually nice to me and paid me any attention. He looked young and had been assigned to protect me. Uncle Alejandro used the word “bodyguard,” but I didn’t really understand what that meant or why I needed one of those, though I didn’t dare question him about it.

My uncle had blue eyes like my mom, but that’s where their similarities ended. She always told me he was her baby brother and he looked really young too. He was tall, so tall that it hurt my neck every time I had to look up at him. I was told I had to look him in the eyes, especially when he was talking directly to me. I was to do the same when answering him and only talk when spoken to. He didn’t explain why, and I was once again too terrified of him to ask. He was built much bigger than my daddy, taking up almost the entire doorway when he walked through it. They were Columbian and he spoke with a slight Spanish accent, even though my mom didn’t. His brown hair went past his ears and it was always slicked back, away from his face that also had hair on it. He wore nothing but suits with shiny black shoes that echoed down the halls in the penthouse.

I barely ever saw him and when I did, it wasn’t for more than a few minutes. He always made it seem as if he had something better to do than pay any attention to me.

My mom lied.

Uncle Alejandro didn’t love me.

Not even a little.

I was there because I had to be, not because he wanted me there. He didn’t have to say it for me to know it was the truth. There were times that I overheard him speaking in Spanish, thinking I didn’t know what he was saying. Little did he know, I was bilingual. Since I was a baby, my mom had spoken to me in Spanish and my dad in English. It was an ongoing joke in our family about how Mom would speak in Spanish only when she was talking about Dad, because he didn’t understand what she was saying. She would pick on him and call him a “white boy” and he would always reply that she was his Latin Queen.

I smiled at the thought.

I only smiled when I thought about them.

Thinking about my mommy and daddy made my heart ache. It hurt so bad that sometimes I couldn’t breathe. I was drowning in the misery I created, getting sent here as punishment for killing my parents.

Sentenced to a life of being alone.

I had no one else to blame but myself. It was all my fault. I woke up every night from nightmares and had no one to comfort me. No one to hold me and tell me that everything was going to be all right.

No one to tell me they loved me.

That’s what hurt the most.

I had all of that before but...

I wished them away.

It only took a few minutes for my life to be ripped from me. I shook my head, trying to push away the images of my parents and the last time I saw them. It didn’t matter. I didn’t feel safe in the house that was now known as my
home
.

I cried a lot.

I cried more times than I could count.

“Daisy!” Esteban shouted, walking onto the back porch that overlooked the city of Manhattan.

It was the only place I felt like I wasn’t dying, the lights of the oversized buildings resembled twinkling stars. I hadn’t seen real stars since Washington. I quickly wiped away my tears, not wanting him to see me cry.

“There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you,” he added, stopping when he caught me wiping my face. “Are you okay?”

I nodded, looking down at my hands that were now placed in my lap. I heard footsteps and assumed he left like I knew my uncle probably would have. I was surprised when I felt him softly grip my chin, making me look up at him. It was the first time I realized how kind his eyes were. They reminded me of my dad’s, which only made my eyes fill up with more tears.

“Hey… it’s okay,” he soothed, crouching down and pulling me into his arms.

It was the first time anyone had hugged me in such a long time. The first time anyone showed me any kindness or love. Any sympathy. I leaned into his embrace, soaking it up as much as I could, knowing that it wouldn’t last long, and silently praying that it wouldn’t be the last time someone would hold me and try to make me feel better.

“Why are you crying?” he asked, rubbing my back every few seconds to reassure me that it was okay to tell him.

To talk to him.

To trust him. 

I couldn’t take it anymore, so I just let go. I cried, long and hard for I don’t how long. He didn’t let go or push me away. If anything, he held me tighter, letting me sob for as long as I needed. Whispering reassuring words to help ease my pain and the hurt I felt in my heart.  

“I miss my parents,” I finally let out, bawling even harder. “I miss my parents so much, Esteban. I can’t breathe. I’m suffocating. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to breathe again. My heart hurts so much. It hurts so much every day,” I sobbed unable to control my emotions and needing to tell someone.

To have them understand that I wasn’t a bad child. I just made a mistake. A brutal mistake that cost me my parents’ lives, the only love I’d ever known.

“I know, pequeña,” he murmured, catching me off guard.

I sniffled, sucking in a few breaths before I pulled away, wanting to look at him. I didn’t bother to wipe my tears. He had already witnessed me breaking down and held me in his arms. I could see my fresh tears wet all over his nice black suit jacket.

I immediately felt bad.

“You know?” I coaxed, sucking in a few more deep breaths.

He cocked his head to the side with a sincere, sad smile for me. “I know.”

I bowed my head.

“It’s okay. I understand. I lost my parents too.”

That made me look back up at him.

“I was around your age when it happened. It took me years to recover, but I promise it does get easier as time goes on,” he spoke honestly.

I could tell by his soft-blue eyes. I wanted to ask him what happened to his parents. I wanted to ask him if he ever felt whole again, if he ever felt love or happiness.

If he ever felt… safe.

Something told me that he did. His eyes spoke for themselves, and they answered all of my questions. Which only gave me hope that someday I might have that again, and for an eight-year-old girl, that meant everything. 

“Yeah,” was all I could bare to say, even though there was so much more that I was feeling.

Something told me that he knew. As if it was radiating off of me. He affectionately smiled and wiped away a few of my tears, before grabbing the handkerchief out of the front pocket of his suit jacket and handing it to me. I blushed as I took it. All of a sudden feeling shy.

He stood and I followed his lead, feeling even smaller than I already was.

“Hey,” he coaxed, reassuringly squeezing my shoulder. “I cry sometimes, too. Shit happens, Daisy, whether we want it to or not.”

I immediately peered up at him again. No one spoke to me like that besides my uncle, as if I was an adult and not a little girl. For some reason, in that moment, with him, by ourselves…

It made me feel better.

I smiled for the first time since my life drastically changed.

And it wasn’t from the memories of my parents.

At least not that time.

The more things changed, the more they stayed the same. A year went by and it was already summer break again. The boys and I did our usual shit, except now girls started to hang out around us more often. The older I got, the more I started to shed my red hair and freckles from my Scottish heritage on my mom’s side. I started to look more like my dad. My hair got darker, but you could still see an auburn haze running through it in the sun. Which only made my bright green eyes stand out more. For some unknown reason, girls really liked that.

Not that I was complaining.

My skin evened out or maybe it was from all the time I spent in the ocean and sun, surfing and riding bikes. It was rare to find any of us indoors for very long.

We all knew it bothered Alex to share us with all those girls, even though she wouldn’t admit it out loud. In a few short months, she would be attending middle school with the rest of us. It was the other boys’ eighth year and my seventh. It was easy to spare her feelings when she went to a different school, but it was only a matter of time until she realized that we were all growing up. Seeing things she may not want to see. Experiencing things she may not be ready for. I hated the fact that she might feel like she was getting left behind and didn’t fit in anymore, experiencing it firsthand.  

We were all aware of Lucas and Alex’s connection, it wasn’t hard to miss. You would have to be a damn idiot to not notice it. I knew the boys were the real reason why Lucas finally asked Stacey out, a girl that had been pretty much on his balls for a while now. Lucas had his asshole ways like we all did, but he would never purposely hurt Half-Pint and this…

This would destroy her.

So when Jacob suggested that we walk on the beach to go to Alex’s parents’ restaurant, a place we all hung out at since birth, it didn’t take long for me to put two-and-two together. Instead of calling him out on it to protect and look out for her like I should have, I went along with it. Mostly because it was easier that way, even though it didn’t take away the piece-of-shit feeling that came along with it. Jacob and Dylan hated the mere thought of them having feelings for each other besides friendship, and that was where it all started…

The rift between us all.

Particularly for Lucas and Alex.

I saw them from a mile away and if I saw them, I knew the rest of them did too, especially Half-Pint. They didn’t try to turn the other way and leave, we just kept on walking toward them. They were on a secluded part of the beach and the full moon only added to Lucas and Stacey dry-fucking the shit out of each other on the sand.

I watched Alex’s face the entire time. The way her heart just broke into a million pieces, spreading out all over the sand for us to walk right over it. Jacob and Dylan didn’t look at her once. They knew what they were doing. They wanted her to see it. In their eyes, they thought they were doing her a favor, blatantly showing her that Lucas wasn’t good enough for her and didn’t give a shit about her.

Bottom line.

It was fucked up.

“Damn, boy, get up in there all good-like and shit,” Jacob interrupted as Lucas’ hand was moving under Stacey’s shirt.

His body instantly jolted off of hers, standing. “What the hell, Jacob?” Lucas roared, spinning around to give him shit.

I watched the entire thing play out in front of me like it was a goddamn soap opera. All the fight in Lucas immediately died the second he saw Alex with her head bowed and her shoulders slumped forward.

A kicked puppy.  

And it took everything inside me not to beat the living shit out of all of them for putting her through this. For showing her that life was cruel. Bursting her bubble that we were her boys, especially Bo. I could tell that Lucas felt awful, but at the end of the day, he didn’t know that he was in love with her.

He was a kid trying to be a man.

A guy…

We’re fucking idiots.

Alex always knew. She just tried to deny it. Maybe knowing that he could never really be hers, and that…

I understood more than anything or anyone.

“Relax,” Dylan interjected, bringing Lucas’ pissed off glare back to him. “We’re just passing through, heading up to Half-Pint's restaurant for dinner. By all means, keep goin’.”

Dylan reached out for Alex’s hand, and she quickly took it, her eyes locked on the sand, not looking at anyone, particularly not Lucas. Dylan nodded toward Stacey who was still sitting there, unfazed by getting caught.

“Bye, darlin’,” he added as we walked off.

As I got older, it was harder to control my emotions, my anger most of all.

For the first time in our friendship, our brotherhood, I allowed it completely take control. Not giving a damn about the outcome or the consequences.

“I’m going to use the bathroom,” Alex whispered, barely loud enough for us to hear as we walked up to the restaurant.

Dylan nodded, letting go of her hand, and we stayed by the shoreline. I was the only one to actually watch her leave, making her way up the beach into the restroom where I knew she would probably be crying her eyes out. Proving to herself that she really was just a girl.

Before I could give it anymore thought, I turned around with my fist already in the air and punched whoever the hell was closest to me straight in the jaw.

It just happened to be Dylan.

He staggered backward, his grip firmly placed on the side of his face. Neither one of them batted an eye. It was as if they were both expecting it. Maybe even a little proud of the fact that I was defending our girl from the hurt they knew they caused.

Dylan spit blood onto the sand and peered up at me, Jacob following his gaze. Both of them standing tall in front of me with expressions I couldn’t quite place.

“You’re both fucking assholes,” I gritted out through clenched teeth with my fists still at my sides.

“No shit, Austin,” Dylan countered, shaking his head in disgust. “What the hell are we supposed to do? Watch him hurt her anyway? This was easier, alright? Like rippin’ off a damn Band-Aid.”

“That was fucked up and you know it!” I argued, stepping forward until I was an inch away from their faces. “That wasn’t fair to either of them. You set them up.”

Jacob sighed. “Austin, you’re too young to understand.”

“Fuck you!” I roared, only glaring at him. “You can pretend all you want that this scheme you orchestrated was the right thing to do, but you don’t fool me. Lucas wasn’t the one that hurt her.” I stared back and forth between them. “It was you,” I said, receding my steps, needing to get away from them.

“Both of you.” I turned and left.  

Alex was already walking out the front doors of the restaurant by the time I made it inside. I ran, grabbing her wrist, making her spin to face me.

She immediately gazed down at the ground. “I don’t feel so good. I must have eaten something. My stomach hurts. My mom’s going to take me home,” she murmured just above a whisper.

“Half-Pint…” I coaxed.

Something in the tone of my voice made her peek up at me through her wet, spiky lashes. Neither one of us said anything. We just stood there in the parking lot of the restaurant in silence, knowing words didn't have to be spoken.

She knew.

I pulled her toward me, and she willingly came. She wrapped her arms around my torso, tucking her head underneath my chin. I held her tight against me, opening my mouth to say something, anything.

Nothing came out.

I kissed the top of her head instead.

“I love you, Half-Pint. I’m always here for you,” I reminded her.

“I know. I love you, too.”

She was the first to pull away, shyly smiling.

“You ready to go, baby?” her mom asked, walking up with Lucas’ mom and baby sister Lily beside her.

She nodded.

“Hey, Austin. Jesus, boy, you get bigger every time I see you. To think you used to be the smallest one,” her mom chuckled. “The boys are inside playing pool. I’m sure they’re waiting for you.”

I smiled.

Lily just stared at us with a gleam in her eye. Even at the age of six, she was smarter than all us boys put together.  

“I’ll see you later, Austin,” Alex said.

I watched them leave, knowing that the next time I would see her...

She wouldn’t be the same girl.