Damaged 2 (19 page)

I
think about Mom often and wish I'd had more courage to come back sooner, but
looking backward doesn't help me move forward. Peter keeps telling me that.
Mourning the dead is needed. Sobbing is needed, but there's a point when tears
become smiles and the memories aren't filled with pain. I hope that day comes
soon, but so far it hasn't.

We
drive back to the house in Sean's car. Peter is borrowing it until we head home
to Texas. I shift in my seat. When I speak, I don't look at Peter. "Aren't you
afraid that I snapped?"

We
haven't spoken about what I did to Dean, but the thoughts float through my
mind. Peter looks over at me. I feel his gaze on the side of my face. "No,
you've been through a lot, Sidney. And piss-poor judgment on his part made him
a walking target."

"The
things you said to me that night—how did you know what was going through my
head?"

Peter
doesn't answer right away. He grips the wheel harder and focuses on the road.
The ride back from the cemetery is long, and Peter takes a less direct route so
we can talk. "I know because I had the same opportunity. The night Gina was
killed, I rounded on one of the guys and stabbed him with his own knife. I
couldn't stop. I couldn't think. It was instinct. The memory is there in the
back of my mind. I can still sense the blade in my hand and feel it tearing
through his flesh. It's blinding and overpowers every good deed I ever did. I
stopped fighting for her. I changed who I was, but at the depths of my soul I
was still the same man. I'd kill again if it would bring her back.

"That's
why Sean sent you away. He knew I'd snap if I was pushed too far, since I
already had once before. I didn't know what happened. After you left, I asked
Sean, but he gave me a story and I believed it. He said you needed some time
alone, which seemed off.

"Then
Sean told me a bunch of crap about how you demanded money from him—he even
showed me your bank account with all the cash he wired. He took a dirty shot.
Someone did that to me before, and he knew it'd slow me down. Sean played me.
I'm sorry I doubted you. I'm sorry it took me so long to get out here.

"I
followed you last night to the grocery store and then to the park. I didn't
understand why you went with Dean after you fought like hell last time he tried
something. That's why I trailed you, and apparently Sean was following me to
make sure I didn't put the guy in the ground.

"So
to answer your question, I knew how you'd feel after you stabbed him, because
I've done it. I didn't want you to feel like that, ever. I want that ghost
gone, but the best I can do is banish him for a while. I love you, Sidney. I
wish I could do more. I wish I could make it all go away."

I
don't know what to say. "You killed someone?"

Peter
nods, and regret flashes across his face. "It was self-defense, but murder is
murder. The guy bled out and died on the way to the hospital. He died because
of me. No matter what I do, that's always there. That's why I knew what you
were thinking that night because I thought the same things myself."

"I
didn't take money from Sean. Actually, I told him—"

Peter
smiles at me. "I know. He told me on the way here that you said you'd shove any
extra cash up his ass. He's kind of a dick like that. I'll beat the shit out
him later if it makes you feel better." He's joking, a little bit, maybe.

"At
least someone is looking out for you."

"Yeah,
I suppose." Peter pulls on to my street and rolls to a stop in front of my
parents' house. There are lights on, and I know it's packed with people and
food. "Do we have to go in right away?"

Peter
shakes his head and cuts the engine. "No, we don't have to. Let's walk around
the block. Come on. The fresh air will help."

Peter
walks around and plucks me from the car. We start walking, and his phone
buzzes. Someone keeps texting him. "Who's that?"

"Jonathan."
Peter holds my hand, looking straight ahead as he says it.

"Really?
What does he want?"

"Well,
he wants me to drive out to this place in Islip and see why Mom wants to kill
him. He also wants me to stick around. The nosy kid found out that I'm
currently without an employer and has been making outlandish job offers."

"Really?"
Peter nods with a slight smile on his face. "What'd you tell him?"

Peter
kicks a rock with his saddle shoe. "I told him that I wasn't interested. I want
you to take all the time you need with your family. Jon can always find someone
else to fix his latest and greatest blunder."

"Peter…"
I stop in my tracks and look up at him. "You can't say things like that. You
have no job and no money."

He
shrugs. "I have enough to get me through this. Besides, it's not like I'd leave
you now—you're mine, body, mind, and soul."

I
worry about him and it shows on my face. Maybe he is like his younger brother,
walking around with his head in the clouds somewhat. People need money to live,
and Peter doesn't seem to be in a rush to secure another job. After the way he
left the university, I'm not even sure he can be employed somewhere else. I can
picture Peter's hands filling out a job application:

REASON
LEFT LAST JOB:
Slept with my student.

Technically,
I wasn't Peter's student when he slept with me—unless that's literal and
someone is counting sleeping—but looks are just as damning. There were rumors
flying around about the two of us long before anything happened. I smirk,
thinking back. I had no idea he liked me so much.

Peter
squeezes my hand. "What are you thinking about in that beautiful mind of
yours?"

"About
how we met and that I had no idea things would end up here. I'm glad they did.
I wouldn't trade a second of those months away."

Peter
lifts my hand to his lips and smiles at me. "Same here. And I'm so glad you
finally gave me some
coffee
because I was seriously parched and had no
idea. Like none." He's smiling at me. "So what now? Are we headed back to Texas
or do we become Jersey folk?" Peter turns and we continue walking, and turn the
corner. We're headed back to my house again. I can see the porch light from
here along with scads of cars parked up and down the street like a string of
army ants.

"Jersey
folk? Who talks like that? You're from Long Island—and don't think I didn't
notice that whole 'I'm from Connecticut,' you liar, because I noticed. You're
supposed to have a Gawd-awful accent in there somewhere, Mr. New Yorker, along
with a natural scorn for anything awesome that comes out of Jersey, like me."

"I
didn't lie. I came to Texas by way of Connecticut."

"Same
difference, fibber."

"Not
quite, coffee girl." Peter stops me a few houses away and looks down into my
eyes with a sexy smile on his face. "And I notice you dodged my question, which
makes me think you haven't decided yet."

"I
really don't know what to do." I tuck my hair behind my ear and take a deep
breath to steady myself. Emotionally, I feel about as strong as a wet tissue.
"I've wasted so much time. I still have one parent and the ugly stepsister back
there. It feels like I shouldn't run away this time. Maybe I can fix things or
just start over."

"Wait
a second. Is the ugly stepsister Mr. Turkey or Sam? Because I can see the title
fitting either of them quite well."

"Stop
talking trash about Mr. Turkey." Of course I meant Sam. He's such a jerk, but
he's still blood. I don't want to write him off again, not without trying to
patch things up first. I glance at the house and then back at Peter. "So when
did you hear his name?"

"Sam's?
You just said it, and I figured it out. Cinderella, ugly stepsister, jealous
brother. Got it." Peter taps his index finger against his temple. "You forget
how smart I am."

I
laugh and swat at him. "Not that! The bird. How'd you know I named him?"

"Oh,"
Peter takes my hand and starts walking again. "I heard you talking to him when
I first found you. It was right before your aunt came out and asked you to go
to the store. I wanted to rush up to you and hold you in my arms, but I heard
what happened and put the pieces together. Showing up too late was a dick move
on my part, and I wasn't sure if you wanted me around. When you gave your
dinner to the vulture, you called him Mr. Turkey. I thought it was cute. We
should get him a bowtie or something."

"Let's
not listen to Sean anymore, like ever, okay?"

"That
is the most brilliant idea I've ever heard. Agreed."

CHAPTER
27

Tapping
my thumbs swiftly across the screen, I answer the text from Millie and put my
phone on the table. Several days have passed, but I haven't headed back yet.
Millie did the math and realizes that I'm cutting it really close. I tell her
not to worry and put the phone down. I just didn't want to leave Dad yet. He
likes having me around. The only time he smiles is when he walks into a room
and sees me. There's always surprise on his face, like he'd forgotten that I
came back.

Peter
glances over at me. Dad's been letting him sleep on the couch, which helps a
lot. If I can't sleep, I come downstairs and sit with Peter on the sofa. He
wraps his arms around me and we stare at the television until dawn. I manage to
pass out for a few hours at a time. I keep reminding myself that time will
lessen the vise on my heart, that it'll unclamp eventually and I'll be happy
again.

Peter
pokes his pancakes. Aunt Beth is still cooking for us. At first I thought she
was here for Dad, but I think she's here for her. Mom and my aunt were good
friends, and I can tell that my aunt feels better when she's in the kitchen
cooking. I'm going to get so fat—well, Mr. Turkey is going to be morbidly
obese. The bird eats anything I don't finish, and he really likes bacon. I'm
thinking about taking a pound of uncooked bacon out of the package and dropping
it off the roof so it splatters on the patio. It'll be like old times for the
bird, minus the trucks.

"Stop
hording bacon for that beast." Peter reaches across and steals a strip from me.

"There's
plenty more bacon, hon!" Aunt Beth calls out from the kitchen.

I
grab the strip away just as Peter's about to eat it, and he bites air. I laugh
and toss it out the back door to Mr. Turkey. "Get your own."

"You
did not just do that," Peter says after blinking in shock. He's got dark,
tousled hair, two-day scruff on his beautiful face, and a flick of mirth in his
eyes. A dark T-shirt clings to his chest and makes his eyes appear bluer than
possible. Without warning, Peter leans into me and tickles my side.

I
nearly jump out of my seat, trying to avoid his hands, but Aunt Beth is there.
She swats him with the back of the spatula. "None of that at the table, young
man."

I
laugh because he's a doctor and my aunt is scolding him like a child. It's
hysterical, and Peter has no idea what to do with it. He finally swallows his
smile and says, "Sorry, ma'am. It won't happen again."

"Ma'am?"
Aunt Beth glares at him. "How old do you think I am?"

I
point at Peter and laugh. "Come on, Dr. Granz, kiss her ass and say sorry."

He
looks confused. That phrase is respectful in Texas, but up here the women act
like it means they're old and decrepit. I continue to snigger at him and get a
smack with the spatula, too.

Aunt
Beth shakes her head at me. "Table manners, Sidney. And stop feeding that
thing. It'll never leave if you're giving it bacon every day."

"I'll
never leave if you keep feeding me bacon every day," Peter says to Aunt Beth.

It
was the right thing to say because she beams. "Oh, stop." Then she takes his
plate and says, "Let me get you some more."

Peter
waggles his brows after folding his arms across his chest. He leans his chair
back so it's on two legs and gives me the most arrogant smirk I've ever seen.
"She likes me better than the turkey."

"Everyone
likes you better than the turkey."

"What
about you?"

"At
the moment, or in general?" I don't look at him. I take a bite of muffin, or I
plan on it, but Peter swats it out of my hands and the treat lands on my plate.

I
do a slow-motion turn and see Peter looking pleased with himself. "You suck."

"You
like it."

My
jaw drops into a surprised smile and I shove his shoulders. The chair slips out
from under him, and Peter topples over onto the floor. Aunt Beth choses that
moment to appear in the doorway. "Enough of this. If you two want to act like
children, then go outside." She places the bacon on Peter's plate, picks it up,
and shoves it in his hand before clapping at us. "Come on. Take your things and
eat in the yard. Out!"

Trying
to keep from laughing, I grab my plate and walk out the door while biting my
tongue. Peter follows after me with a shocked expression on his face. When
we're at the swing, he sits next to me and says, "She threw us out."

I
start laughing loudly and shove his shoulder. "You are such an ass."

"Sidney,
focus on something besides my ass. I think we just pissed your aunt off. She
banished us to the yard with the bird." Mr. Turkey chooses that moment to
creepily saunter forward, looking for food. I toss him Peter's bacon. "Oh, you
did not just do that."

"I
believe I did. What you gonna do about it, Professor?" I tilt my head to the
side and fold my arms across my chest.

Peter
laughs and lunges at me. My plate of food goes flying with half of it landing
on me and the rest falling to the ground under the swing. "You suck!"