If You Still Want Me (2 page)

"Damn, Ian didn't waste no time. Your influence,
I think."

He shrugs. "When it's the right girl, you...
Shit. I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's fine," I smile because I wanna be
happy for Ian, even if the twitchy little shit probably knew about
Sarah and Kyle this whole damn time. My smile falters. What a
shitty fuckin' week it's been. "Vickie had a lot 'a sense, sayin'
no to me, and I guess now I know the real reason why."

Brandon's one and only eyebrow
cocks up high. Well, would ya look at that. It seems Brandon
'
in control of everything
' Peters
don't know soemthin' I do.

"And what's that?" he asks, clearly
confused.

"Austin." The name barely gets past my lips, and
it leaves a bitter aftertaste that has me reaching for the glass of
lukewarm OJ that's been sitting on the bed-tray since breakfast. "I
caught them together. Dunno how long it's been goin' on, but... It
is what it is."

His eyebrow lowers and he shakes his head at me,
like I still don't know a damn thing. I'm so tired 'a seein' that
look on people's faces. People who're supposed to be my damn
friends.

Brandon's fingers tap the bed again. "I think
you need to talk to Austin, then, because I don't think you saw
what you think you saw."

What kinda cryptic bullshit is that? Vickie was
nakeder than a jaybird, and Austin had her in his arms. They was
dancin' to some old country song, smilin' and laughin' in quiet
whispers as his tan, calloused hands caressed her smooth, dark
skin. Intimate, with love in their eyes.

"I know what I saw," I mumble against the
plastic cup before drinking down the sour liquid.

I know what I saw, because I can still feel it -
like a spike being driven into my heart, over and over. Every time
I close my eyes, I see it. A knock on the door, and it's standing
right in front of me.

I hate hospitals. I hate the way they smell,
like something died a few doors down while something else pissed in
the hallway. I hate the bright, florescent lighting and stagnant,
sterile air. The sound gurneys make as they roll down the hall. The
beeping medical equipment. The lost, sometimes desperate looks on
people's faces. Momma telling me it didn't hurt so bad while her
face was black and blue.

I hate it here, but here I am for the fourth day
in a row. I'm here, because that damn fool went and acted like a
damn fool. I'm here, because I owe it to him. I'm here, because I
love him.

Knocking lightly on the door, the look on Saul's
face tells me I'm interrupting an unpleasant conversation, while
Brandon's expression gives me a pretty good idea what they'd been
talking about. Saul does his best to erase the scowl and smile up
at me, his shaggy blond hair uncombed. His green eyes are dark,
though, like they're seeing straight through me, and maybe seeing
something he don't much like.

"Hey, Vickie!" Saul manages a grin, his gaze
dropping to the bag in my hands. "Presents?"

"A change of clothes," I smile right back,
walking into the room. I pause as Brandon gives me a kiss on the
cheek then I dump the bag on the foot of the bed. "Ready to go
home?"

"Depends on where that is," Saul replies, a
subtle edge to his voice and a loaded gun within the question.

It's been like this since he
caught me and Austin - no, he didn't
catch
anything. We weren't doing anything wrong. Saul's
the one who jumped to conclusions, ran off, got drunk and... Damn,
but God help me, I can't put all the blame on him, either. He
may've been acting a fool, but I've been in the wrong just as much
as him and Austin.

"I have to get back out to Plano," Brandon steps
in when a strange silence lingers. "I just wanted to come make sure
the hospital bill was squared up. Insurance is payin' for most of
it, and whatever it's not, Forester has to pay."

"I don't want that shit-eatin' bastard's money,"
Saul grouses.

"Not your decision," Brandon puts an end to
Saul's childish pouting. "He signed a settlement agreement this
morning. No jail time and no public court hearing, but he's gonna
pay your medical bills, pay his taxes, give up his contractor's
license for two years and do a shitload of community service. I
recommended Habitat For Humanity."

I smile at that. "Maybe they'll teach him how to
properly use a hammer."

"And proper building codes," Brandon winks at
me, but his open eye is full of questions.

I nod subtly that I'm okay. Brandon sees right
through it, of course, but this is my battle to fight, not his.
This has to be done on my terms, and Austin's. I just wish that boy
would hurry up.

"Well, I'll leave you to it, then." Brandon
switches his gaze back to Saul, and I'm relieved to have my boss's
concerned eyes looking elsewhere. "If you're up for it, I could use
some help out at the estate before our New Year's Eve bash on
Wednesday."

"No problem, boss. Doc said aint nothin' broke,
'cept maybe my pride."

"You had three bruised ribs and a severe
concussion," I remind them both, crossing my arms with a stern
glare. I swear, men turn into babies when they catch a cold, but
get the shit kicked out of them and they'll tell you they're fine.
"And that same doctor warned you to look for blood in your urine in
case they kicked your kidney sideways."

Saul pouts, like he always does, and it's cute,
like it always is. "I'm fine, honey. Boss-man needs help, an' I
swear, if I start pissin' blood, I'll set down the decorations an'
call the doc."

"I'll keep an eye on him," Brandon assures me on
his way out the door.

"You better, Peters," I glare with a smile on my
lips. "Or you'll be here for more than just a visit."

"Yes, ma'am," he winks at me again before
leaving.

As soon as Brandon's gone, the uneasy silence
moves back in. It's been like this for a while now, between Saul
and I. It used to be, you couldn't get a word in between us, and
we'd laugh more than talk, or just hold each other. It used to be
that words weren't so necessary. Lately, it feels like words are
the only thing keeping us afloat.

"You still goin' down to N'Orleans for New
Year's?"

I stop staring at the empty doorway and turn to
face Saul and his question. After the big flood, my step-father,
whom I've called daddy since I was thirteen, took the whole family
down there with a mission to build a new church and rebuild the
community. Everyone went, including some not even in the family.
His congregation was his flock, and where he said the Lord called
him to go, everyone followed. Everyone, but me.

"I missed Christmas. Daddy was a bit upset about
that, so I figured I should go down for New Year's to try and
smooth it over."

"You tell him why you missed Christmas?" His
voice is on edge again, leaving me unsure how to answer that
question without the fear of stepping on something I shouldn't.
Before I can think of how to approach it, he pushes. "You tell him
yer stupid boyfriend done gone an' got the shit kicked outta
him?"

A sharp inhale tightens my chest. He knows damn
well I don't talk to my daddy about our relationship. Maybe that's
become a problem.

An earlier headache returns, and I figure I've
just about had it with the boys in my life, the indecisiveness and
their childish behavior. "No. It's none of his business, and you
know how I feel about that."

"Do I? Sometimes I wonder, Vickie. You know how
thick in the head I am. Too stupid to breathe on my own, some folks
say."

And that, right there, is all I can take. "Stop
it. Stop moping around like someone went and kicked the puppy you
don't have. You got drunk after six years sober, beat up Kyle -
which I agree was deserved - while wrecking Sarah's house before
disappearing for three damn days!"

His green eyes go wide as I step closer to the
bed, one fist planted firmly on my hip. "Vickie-"

"You got any idea how worried I was? No phone
call, no message - you just up and decide to go get drunk in a shit
hole before getting the shit kicked outta you by a bunch of brutes
who wouldn't have had a prayer against you if you'd been
sober."

"Vickie, I-"

"Here's how it's going work," I hate pulling the
Dominatrix card outside the bedroom, but this boy needs a swift
kick in the ass. "You're going get yourself outta this hospital.
You're going to go apologize to Sarah and beg her to let you stay
at her place. Then, when she kicks your ass to the curb, because
trust me - she's not in a forgiving mood right now - you're going
to go ask Brandon for forgiveness for being a dumbshit-"

"But, Vi-"

"-and ask him for a place to
stay, because
yes
, I'm going to New
Orleans and won't be back for a week; and Ian just got himself
engaged so don't you dare show up on his doorstep and interrupt the
happiness he's
finally
managed to
find for himself. You're also going to talk to Austin."

"Hell no, I'm not!"

My eyebrow raises on its own. "I beg your
pardon?"

"No, I..." He falters under my glare, his eyes
glancing to the side. "I'm not," he says more quietly.

Letting out a slow breath to cool my temper, I
brush his unruly bangs aside so I can look into his eyes. "Sweetie,
you've got to. I love you, but if you two can't work your shit out,
then it might be best for all three of us if I stay in New
Orleans."

His eyes dart up quickly to meet mine, and
already they're full of wet sadness along with the shock. "You...
you don't really mean that."

Like the brat he is, he's always gotta push that
one last button to see if I'll give in. I can't, no matter how much
my heart aches too see him upset. "I do, Saul, with all my
heart."

He hiccups, his bottom lip fighting against its
desire to pout. He's trying to put on a strong front, but I can see
how tore up he is inside. It's a reflection of how I think all
three of us have been feeling these past few months, and it needs
to end before there's nothing left to salvage.

"I don't understand," he whispers, all the
defiance gone from his voice. "What's he got to say that you can't?
Why can't this just be 'bout you an' me, like it's always
been?"

"Oh, sweetie, it hasn't been just you and me for
a while now. You're just so focused on me, you can't see it. That's
why you gotta talk to Austin."

I lean in to kiss his forehead, but in one last
act to show me how upset he is, he turns away to scowl out the
window. I won't give in. Clenching my fists, I turn to the door.
"I'll call you in a week."

As I'm crossing the threshold, I hear the
whisper that puts my heart back at rest.

"I love you too, Vickie."

I don't reply and keep on walking down the
bleached, polished hallway. I hope he understands that it's just as
hard for me to walk away from him right now as it will be for him
to do what needs to be done. He's gotta talk to Austin. If those
two can't find their middle ground, then there's no hope for Saul
and I to move forward.

I'm doing this for Saul, because he needs to
understand what the rest of us can already see. I'm doing this
because I love them both. I'm doing this, because if I don't, we'll
regret it for the rest of our lives.

Stepping onto the elevator to head home and
finish packing, I lean against the mirrored wall with a heavy,
heart-aching sigh. I've already got so much in my life I regret, I
don't want any more. Maybe it's time I put those other demons to
rest, too.

Like most things in my life right now, sleep
just won't come easy. After spending another night tossing and
turning, I ease out of bed, padding barefoot to the attached
bathroom. The sun is barely peeking through the window over the
toilet. It's a bleak, early, Texas winter morning that has my brain
begging for more sleep, but those horses aint gonna feed
themselves.

Stripping off my boxer-briefs, I step into the
shower and turn it on, purposefully shocking myself awake with a
blast of cold water. I shiver for a few moments as the water slowly
warms, the old pipes in this old house knocking gently against the
wall. It's a sound I've become accustomed to hearing in the
morning. It's a sound I think I'll miss, come Spring.

Four more months.

I dunk my head under the shower spray, letting
the warmth pound into my scalp and roll down my tattooed back. My
eyes fall to my right arm where
Los Lost Boys
stares right back at me against darkly tanned flesh. I think
the first thing I'm gonna do come Spring is get that old tat
covered up.

It's not that I want to forget where I was four
years ago, but I think it's time to move on. Joining that gang was
the stupidest decision of my short life. At the time, I thought it
was as good a place to hide as any. I thought, maybe, I'd be safe
there - hiding who I really was in plain sight, right under the
noses of the boys who'd been such a threat to me in the first
place.

'Stupid faggot!'

The memory stings as the water turns hot, and I
reach for the soap to try and scrub it away. I can't though. It
sticks to me, seeping into my skin and poisoning my blood.

Julio's snarling as he raises the bat he just
broke over Brandon's arm. Martin's boot arcing in a sweep towards
my ribs. Brandon's tight-throated 'thank you' whispering in my
ear.

The soap slips from my hand, clunking down
against the tiles at my feet. Suds swirl into the drain, pulling my
heart down with them. I'd stood by and watched for so long as they
beat him, but in the end, he'd thanked me for trying to stop
it.

Over and over.
Thank
you. Thank you.