Eluding Nirvana (The Dark Evoke Series Book 2) (11 page)

“And it is the only white property on the block,” his deep, whispering voice stroked my ear as he added to my silent musing.

A loud din of Laurie’s car doors slamming from behind made me jump. I turned to face the mischievous twosome who was fetching boxes from the back seat. As they passed us, Liam handed the key to Liv and they advanced up the six steps to the door before letting themselves in.

Protective arms were dropped from my shoulders and we both turned in unison as a voice called,
“Coo-ee,” from my right. The voice was trailed by a stumpy middle-aged woman with a mass of red hair cut to her jawline, shuffling along the sidewalk. It wasn’t the hair which seized my attention; it was the mere contemplation that she was going to give herself a black eye with how her hefty chest was flailing around. Just watching made my boobs and back ache. “You must be the new neighbors?” she gushed, her tone rather shrill.

I felt his warmth as Liam’s arm came back around me, draping over my shoulder, pulling me under his arm
once again, “Yes we are,”––the denim bandana on my head was caressed by his lips before he continuing his introduction––“Liam DeLaney,” politely holding out his hand, the woman accepted while repeating his name. “And this is my girlfriend, Kady Jenson.”

I wasn’t so lucky
to escape with the simplicity of a hand shake. Instead, she grasped me by the shoulders and pulled me down to plant a kiss on my cheek. “Kady,” she tested my name, “it’s so very nice to meet you both. You’re arrival is the topic of discussion along this block. We haven’t had anything this exciting for quite some time; well, apart from old Mr. Rogers copping off with his PA…” Oh, my God, was this woman for real? We’d only been on the block for ten minutes, and I already knew I wasn’t going to be looking at this poor Mr. Rogers without knowing his dirty laundry. I studied her mouth rapidly moving, but her words were a simple gathering of high-pitched muffles. “It’s lovely meeting new people, building friendships and what-not. And you seem like a lovely couple.”

Liam and I merely smiled at one another
. By the expressions we were honing, we were obviously on the same wave-length.

“I’m Mrs. Steinbeck
and I live just next door,” she pointed to a chocolate-colored house with a swinging sofa on the porch. Before either of us could reflect her hospitality, she stumbled on. “We’re a very tight-knit community here in Bricksdale, Mr. DeLaney, so if you have any questions or you need any help, no matter what, please feel free to pop around and ask.” Her enthusiasm was giving me a bastard headache. Still, a part of me couldn’t help but find her slightly amusing.

“Thank you, Mrs. Ste
inbeck; we’ll keep that in mind,” he grinned his polite grin, the one which is typically used to dismiss people. However, she didn’t seem to catch on and remained stood stock-still on the sidewalk as we approached the house.

I was being steered up the steps when she called,
“Like I said, day or night, my door is always open.”

“
Thank you, Mrs. Steinbeck,” Liam retorted over his shoulder.

“No,
thank you,
Mr. DeLaney. This is very exciting; I am going to bake some banana bread. I’ll pop some over later for you both.” And she shuffled away as we stepped over the threshold.

“She’s going to be one of those nosey neighbors, isn’t she?”
Liam questioned, his back firmly pushing the barrier shut.

“Liam,” I hissed, “Don’t be t
oo quick to stereotype people.”

He gazed at me pointedly, his
eyebrows meeting his hairline.

“But yes, I think
she might be.”

January 2012.

Seventeen months before the accident…

Three weeks. That’s it. Three short weeks, or twenty-one long days, refer to it as you will, it’s all the same.

Three weeks ago, we moved from Dorchester to Bricksdale. I sat in Liam’s BMW cuddling my blender like it was going to save me from taking the next gigantic step in my life. Terrified, I was led up the front steps and into a house that was cold, empty and far from a home. I was led into a shell of bricks and mortar with such weighted anxiety that Liam had to
end the grand tour because I couldn’t do anything other than cry. Regardless of how many pep talks I gave myself, I knew this was a big deal, and I should have been ecstatic with the gesture. I knew buying a house was huge, and Liam jumping in feet first to offer me this filled my heart with unconditional love, and made the wad of guilt in my head and stomach punch its way to the surface.

Warm, loving arms came around me as I cried in the room which was to become Liam’s office. Soft, cajoling sounds emitted and vibrated from his throat as
my head nuzzled into his chest. “Shhh. I’m happy and overwhelmed, too, but I’m not crying,” he murmured against my scalp.

I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that I was mourning the loss of the apartment––the place where we created three years of memories. Unfortunately, unlike physical possessions, we couldn’t withdraw each memory from the walls and place them in their very own box to move with us, and free them in the shell I found myself st
anding in, to make it feel more like home. Home was what you made it, and in that moment, as I softly swayed in Liam’s generous arms and listened to him pacify me, breathing in his Godly scent and feeling the warmth of his chest beneath his shirt, I made a silent promise to him and to me: that I would do everything I could to make this a happy home.

I
was standing in the heart of the living room while I thought back to the barrenness of the property only a while ago. Three weeks prior, I had only been surrounded by that of hardwood flooring and cream walls. It was the same throughout. It’s astonishing how much you can change and achieve in such short time, if you put your mind to it.

Thick, luxurious cream carpeting
now rests where the hard floor once took place. The surrounding walls coated in vibrant creams and gold. I never knew how cream could be considered a vibrant color, but it was. A Grecian theme flowed throughout the entire property––apart from Liam’s office of course. I was even now, perplexed with the insistence I shown with selecting a neutral pallet. I had always opted for darker, warmer colors. Yet, I think subconsciously, I was considering the lengths someone would go to, to ensure that a shade so bright would go unsullied.

I had hoped that being surrounded by such pristine valuables and upholstery would be a hushed reminder to stray away from
ungainliness. I silently hoped it would remind Liam how clumsy I can get, and therefore, avoid actions which could prompt me to soil what his hard earned money was spent on.

Even so, within the melded twenty-one days past, the fresh, unblemished canvas that was our home, had begun to slowly fill and pattern with new memories.
Through the bottom archway I strolled with a faint smile on my face, and surfaced in the conjoined dining room and kitchen. The new glass surfaced dining table with six, white leather high backrest seats and a crystal chandelier hanging in the center of the table governed the room, with the white and oak surfaced island blatantly dominating the kitchen.

After a somewhat heated discussion
while I perched myself on the kitchen island, the memory of Liam wedging himself between my thighs before slipping me off and lying me down on the cold, tiled flooring alongside to the range, and took me for his pleasure while dinner was cooking, tantalized my mind.

I remember
ed the gasp that passed my lips as he lunged into me with momentum. I was a moth to the flame as the heat waves radiated from the large black door alongside my left, my thighs fell open farther, and my flesh momentarily stuck to the broiling door. Although it hurt like a bitch, it did something to me…for me…I felt something that I’d never felt before. One thing was for certain: I felt confused and to some extent, ashamed by the mere fact that a part of me…reveled in it…needed it.

The concoction of feelings which simmered inside my head as we
bickered over my entitlement to inform my family that we no longer lived in Dorchester was fogging up my mind. I hadn’t spoken to them for so long, and in that moment, I couldn’t see or think clearly.

Frustration, desire, longing, anger, dejection…it was too much.

The inability to focus on one solitary emotion was ripping my mind and heart to shreds, and for the first time ever, Liam fucking me into realization wasn’t going to help defog the shit in my head. It was the pain, shock and tenderness of the wound which was my anchor and guided me through my aimless moment.

With that memory and the freeness I felt warming my blood, I
held the edge of the towel which was wrapped around my dripping tresses, before pressing the lower half of my short satin robe against my thigh, and peeked down at my left knee. The flesh, once red and shining thanks to that night, had turned into a dimmer hue and lost its sheen-like surface.

Surprisingly, e
ven the stairs were a catalyst to add a smile to my face, as I recalled him taking me on them on our first night. My hand coiled around one of the wooden beams, my legs bound around his waist, while each forceful thrust had the edge of each stair burrowing into my back.

And then there was the front door, which had been knocked
on by Mrs. Steinbeck so many occasions in such a short time, I was sure the wood was weakening.

Steinbeck…where di
d I even begin with that woman?

Thanks to her and her constant disruptions, and the one occasion she took it on to let
herself into
our
home, Liam was growing beyond conscious. Ever since that happening, each morning as I saw him off to work, he’d kiss me and mutter the same thing, “Lock the door behind me. Don’t open it to anyone.” And I did.

The only time h
is instruction went unheeded was when Liv decided to pop by at lunch in a desperate need for advice. Apparently, a guilty conscience is a bitch. After I told Liam that Liv had stopped by, he fired question after question, statement after statement. And once again, I was left to feel like a scolded child and inferior.

So
, on the morning that I remembered and examined the colorful memories newly embedded into our new walls, as Liam leaned down to place a soft goodbye kiss on my forehead, he had asked for my keys.

My brow furrowed as I pulled away and studied his calculating eyes. “What? Why do you need my keys, Liam?” I asked with great caution.

“Because, Kady baby,” he set his briefcase on the hardwood floor of the hallway and cradled my face, the tips of his fingers burrowed under my towel attached to my head ever so slightly. “I have told you time and time again not to answer the door for your own safety.”

I scowled. What did he mean, ‘for my own safety’? I thought this neighborhood had the lowest cr
ime rates in Boston?

The spike
s of the spider’s web peeking from his collar, strained as his tendon flexed in the left side of his neck, while green and blue speckled eyes hardened. Not a day went by anymore where I wouldn’t be halted and restrained by those uncompromising gems. His clean shaven jaw tautened. “Do not scowl at me, Kady. I’m looking out for
you
. I’m keeping
you safe
. I’m not going to start my day off with your cheek. Now, be a good girl.” He held out his hand and there it remained until I eventually conceded on an overthrown sigh.

Twisting around to the sideboard along the balustrade of the stairs, I fished my keys out of the bowl and turned back to Liam. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, setting my key into his waiting palm.

“Thank you. That wasn’t hard now, was it?”

I shook my head and as the warm soft pad of his thumb came down to caress my lower
lip, I couldn’t help but smile.

“Now I can work without worrying
about where you are and if you’re safe.” His thumb was replaced by his lips.

Pulling away, he
informed me of his expected delay home from work…again. That was the sixth late night in two weeks. Nevertheless, I smiled like any dutiful partner would when she saw her significant other off to work. And as the door closed behind him and I heard the key twist in the lock, I hugged my arms around my body, silently screaming at the four walls for holding me prisoner.

It was pointless sit
ting in the house, enclosed by four walls and moping. I trudged from the dining room back through the living room and up the stairs, the padding of bare feet seemingly loud throughout the stillness of the house, to get myself dressed.

Turning the corner on the landing, I stepped
through the first door on the right, and was engulfed by sun beams as it seared through the large bay window opposite the door. It made the four-poster, satin adorned bed, shimmer and glisten. The heavy satin embroiled drapes were drawn back perfectly, offering a view of the cushioned bench in the bay.

It was a bedroom worthy of a luxury hotel.
One I was overjoyed that I created.

If it wasn’t for the
swift tightness I felt upon my brow, I would have forgotten about the towel wrapped and twisted upon my head from my morning shower. Strolling around the foot of the bed to the dresser, I unraveled the fluffy material and set to work, quickly blow-drying my locks. I wasn’t expected to be anywhere to need looking presentable anyway, not with my keys in Liam’s pocket, so with bouncy, shiny blond hair, I opted for an old pair of denim shorts and a red camisole.