Devil's Despair Box Set: Books 1-3 (96 page)

“I don’t think he meant to leave you.”

“What you think doesn’t matter,” he quickly returns.

I try not to let his tone hurt me, but it does.

“Why the fuck did you bring me here, Sarah?”

Before I can answer, he moves from one end of the room to the other, toward the dresser. I watch as Travis bends at the waist, extends his arm, and sends all the items flying through the air in one swoop. Most of the contents hit the wall at the side, crashing into it then falling to the floor. The other items fly as well, but land at his feet.

With great effort, I will myself to stay calm. I shut my eyes tightly and blink away the tears.

Travis opens the closet door to the left of the dresser and walks in. I hear banging and more glass breaking. I stay in place as I watch Travis throwing clothes from the closet out onto the floor of the bedroom. His panting is getting heavy, loud enough that I hear him stopping to catch his breath from the doorway where I still stand.

“Travis?” I call, but get no reply.

Coming out of the closet, he doesn’t look at me. He observes the room with satisfied eyes and comes toward me with measured steps. I swiftly move out of the way of the door so he can pass. He walks across the small hallway to another room and enters.

I follow, but stay far enough behind him and wait.

He walks to the blinds, broken but still hanging from the window, and pulls them down to the floor. He braces both hands on each side of the window and looks out.

“This was my room,” he tells me with an incensed tone.

“I thought so,” I carefully whisper back.

“Dad was so proud of me,” he starts. “He would’ve done anything I asked.”

Trophies line the shelves above the bed. From what I can see from here, it looks like Travis played more football than I had remembered. Posters of music legends decorate the walls. I see Jimi Hendrix holding a guitar while wearing an old beat-up leather jacket positioned in the center. When Travis turns to see my focus, he lifts his head then moves and rips it from the wall, sending it flying aimlessly behind him before doing the same to each picture until the walls of his bedroom are bare.

“I fucking hate him,” he tells me with a vicious tone I’m not used to him using. “He fucking left me here.”

“Travis! Stop!”

Turning around to face me, Trav’s eyes search my body. He’s so angry and I feel small and weak. I don’t recognize him.

“You shouldn’t have brought me here.”

“You should . . .”

Before I can finish, a small television is picked up and tossed against the closet door, splitting the wood first before going through it.

“I needed him, Sarah. I had
no one
after he left.”

I freeze, not saying anything else that I fear may hurt him. Bringing him to this house was a galactic mistake.

“I was here at the house waiting for him when he died. I had brought dinner over. We were going to watch the game. It was Monday night and he had gotten off work late. He called before leaving and told me he’d hurry.”

I don’t know what to say. Travis comes toward me, making no physical contact, but again passes me and walks down the hall into the kitchen. Before I reach him, I hear pans and appliances from the counter being thrown.

A window breaks; the glass shattering echoes throughout the small house.

Making my way down the hall, I watch him go into the living room. A small stereo that sat in the corner is over Trav’s head before he tosses it into the bay window next to the couch. More glass shatters.

Travis wasn’t just losing control before, and now he’s completely out of it.

“Travis!” I scream for his attention. Once he freezes with his back to me, I say quietly, as I walk toward him, “Stop.”

He’s still not moving, so I place my hands on his shoulders and lean my face into his back. He lets me do this and I can feel his body trembling under my lips as I stand on my toes and kiss his nape softly.

Shrugging me off him, Travis walks to a framed picture hanging by itself on the wall. The dust crowds the face of it and I can’t see who’s in it. Before I can ask, Travis punches the glass, shattering it to pieces, and we both watch it fall to the floor.

“Oh my God,” I say aloud, watching the blood instantly start to draw from his hand.

His back is to me so I can’t see his face, but his posture remains rigid. Travis continues looking down at the glass at his feet. His voice is shaky, nearly breaking over his words. “You don’t remember what he was like when I was a kid.”

“No,” I answer, still studying his back. The ragged breathing continues.

His foot prods the picture until it’s face up. He stares down while saying, “After Mom left, he promised everything was going to be okay.” He looks up, puts his hands on his hips and stares at the empty wall. “It was good for a while. We did things together.”

Turning around, Trav’s eyes meet mine. I feel him coming back from the past and I allow myself to relax slightly.

“There are no answers for you here, Sarah.”

“I wanted to know you,” I admit, feeling my heart break for him.

“You know what I want you to know.”

“There’s more,” I quickly tell him. “Tell me.”

Once truly feeling my presence again, Trav sinks to the ground in front of me and rests his face in his hands while his knees hold him off the glass-covered floor.

I kneel beside him, careful to avoid getting cut, and rest my hands on his thighs to offer whatever unsaid comfort I can.

“You have a piece of heaven that you’re not reading, Sarah.” His voice is raspy and my eyes fill with tears. The letter from Bean sits in my bedside drawer, alone and unread. “You have something from her and you haven’t even bothered to look at what she has to say.” Pulling his head up, he looks at me with the same expressive sadness I still recognize in myself.

“You didn’t get to say goodbye to your dad,” I say.

“No. I didn’t. You can say goodbye to Bean, though.”

“I’m better now, Travis.” I am better. Travis made me better. His love, understanding, and guidance have helped me through the loss of her.

Travis moves his hands to my waist and pushes my body up above his, as he remains crouched down in front of me. His arms wrap around my middle and he buries his face in my stomach. I feel the hot tears from his face as he pushes them into me. My hands wrap around his head and rest in his hair. I don’t know how to soothe him.

“I miss him every fuckin’ day. It’s like he just died.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“The nightmares came back,” he tells me and I feel my eyebrows furrow because I don’t understand. I knew Travis had nightmares. I’ve heard the others talk about them when they thought I wasn’t around.

“What?”

“My mom,” he says with a broken voice. “Lacey,” he murmurs right before he releases a heavy sob.

Tears I didn’t realize I was holding, fall down my face when I move to look down at him. “I don’t understand,” I voice carefully. “What about Lacey?”

“She doesn’t know.”

“What doesn’t she know?”

“Where she came from.”

He’s talking in riddles and I’m lost. This was a mistake.

“I don’t know what you’re saying, Trav.”

Travis goes still and quiet in my arms but gently rocks me with him before he moves from his knees to sit on the floor. Pulling me down by my arms, but still careful of the glass beneath us, he situates me on his lap. My back is to his front and he wraps his arms around my middle, resting his head on my shoulder.

“Tell me,” I prod.

“I don’t know that I can tell you, Sarah. It’s all so fucking jumbled in my head. The nightmares, what may or may not have happened. I was too young. I can’t fuckin’ remember. I don’t know
what
to remember.”

Hayden never shared this either. I understand, though. It wasn’t his story to tell. Resting my hands on Trav’s as they sit at my waist, I say to the room, “I’ll read Bean’s letter.”

“I want that for you,” he tells me, kissing the crown of my head. Exhaling through his words, relief surrounds us. “This is all so fucked up. What do I do with this place?”

“I don’t know, Travis. That’s your decision to make.”

“I can’t make it.”

“Then don’t.”

A few long, drawn-out minutes of silence pass before Trav starts talking.

“I was hungry,” he starts and I lean my head on his broad shoulder, closer to his words so I don’t miss them. “My dad was gone. He was out of town looking for work. My mom and I had been home that morning. She was a good mom until that day, as far as I remember, I guess.”

I squeeze his hand for comfort, and to let him know I’m listening and that he has my full attention.

“Something happened to her. I remember she was making me breakfast in our kitchen and she came to stand in front of me at the couch. I think I remember her wearing a dress at the time. It was short. Short enough that I know now, it shouldn’t have been worn out of the house.”

Now I understand why Travis hates what I wear.

“She fell to the ground and I didn’t understand what was happening.” He falls silent, so I wait until he continues. “I don’t know how much time had passed before I heard the sound of what I thought at the time, was a train pulling up in the driveway of the trailer we lived in. I remember being so scared I hid in the first place I thought of. It was a small kitchen cabinet under the sink. It smelled like her cleaning supplies.”

He takes a breath, kisses the back of my head and then places his forehead back on my shoulder. His body hasn’t stopped trembling.

“There was a loud knock at the door then a man broke through it and came inside.”

I answered the door when Devon came to hurt me. Trav was drunk and passed out in his room, unable to help.

“Did you know him?” I ask, breaking my silence for the first time since he started talking.

“No. I don’t know if this is even real, Sarah. I don’t know if I’m remembering this or if it’s a nightmare. That’s what scares me. If it’s not real, why does it keep coming back?”

“I don’t know.”

“The man was yelling at her so I cracked the cabinet and looked out of it while he did. I felt like I had already been in there for days. I remember how bad I wanted my dad. The man with my mom called someone and then. . . .”

He stops, so I ask, “What? And then what?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he answers, lifting me by my waist. I move my legs and stand in front of him. “Let’s go.”

“Travis.” I grab his arm to stop him from walking away as soon as he stands. “You said Lacey.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does.”

“
It doesn’t!
” he bellows and I sink back, nervous and scared I’m causing more damage.

Hearing my intake of breath, Trav steps closer and grabs my waist, pulling me to him. His arms come around me, and he holds on tight, tighter than I’ve ever remembered him doing.

“Let’s go. I want to go back.”

“Okay,” I tell him, still allowing him to hold on tight.

* * *

Once we made it out of the house, Trav’s body lost its tension and the drive back to the beach was quiet. He drove home.

I let him have his silence on the way back, but his hand never left mine until we made it to the house. Travis didn’t talk about what he’d done or what I’d witnessed. He didn’t talk about his mom anymore either. I could’ve pried, but I wanted to give him space.

Once we made it back to the bedroom, though, Travis made love to my body like he had never done before. He was assertive, passionate, and even while moving inside me, I could tell this was his way of finding his way back to a better place.

The rest of the night we spent as we did the first two days, lying wrapped in each other and living in the moments before we had to go home and face the others.

It’s no longer the others I fear facing. The ghosts of Trav’s past are more of a threat to him than anyone alive could ever be.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Travis

I GOT OUT
of bed before Sarah this morning. Not because I woke up earlier, but because I hadn’t slept. Even with her incessant rocking, I couldn’t rest. She rocked a long while, so I knew she was as restless as I was.

After Sarah took me back to the house I grew up in, I couldn’t get the memories out of my head. My dad cleaning his hunting equipment, taking me outside to play catch, explaining to me at the kitchen table how to put together a model airplane, it was all too much.

Physically, I destroyed the only place I’ve ever known to be my home. Emotionally, it had been torn apart the day he died.

As I lay in bed and watched Sarah sleep, I thought about what to do with his place. I could sell it, keep it, or tear it down. It doesn’t matter because it won’t ever bring him back.

When I broke down on the living room floor and admitted to her about the nightmares I’ve had, I felt the tension radiate from her body and spill into the room. She tried to stay calm for me, as best Sarah could, but I couldn’t. No matter who you are or what you do, you can’t outrun fear. The paralyzing effect of its presence won’t be denied.

Although the ache of doubt remained, I also felt an overwhelming relief. My decision not to face my father’s house after the funeral had been wrong. In a sense, I had disrespected his memory in trying to forget his presence in my life. Sarah, although acting out of concern for me, caused my mental break, which I already feel I’ve started healing from.

After I got out of bed, I sat on the covered outside porch of the beach house drinking orange juice and watched the rain fall, landing in scattered puddles around the yard and toward the beach. I let my mind rest for a few minutes before I realized how much time had passed and that I needed to get us home. We were facing Ace’s reaction later today and after the already emotional evening before, I needed to further clear my head. So I decided to pick up coffee for her, and breakfast for us both. Sarah wakes up better being bribed with coffee and food.

So, after writing her a note and leaving it on my pillow, I kiss her forehead softly, and make my way to the Jeep outside.

Pouring fucking rain.

* * *