penance. a love story (The Böhme Series) (27 page)

I tried avoiding her for weeks and I
was decaying. I don’t care how she labeled it, but I wanted her in my life. Even if she wanted me to be the big brother she never had, which would suck. But I would do it.

I pulled my phone out to check the time. It wasn’t too late, so I selected Stinson’s name to make a call. “Well. Okay, talk to
her. Why are you calling me?” he said after I told him a quick rundown of what happened.

I laughed, “I have no freaking clue.”

“I can’t always be the person you talk to, Wynn. You’re at the point where you can do this. Hang up the phone and do what you have to do.”

When I arrived at her apartment, I found her sitting on the steps outside her door. She gave me a confused expression. “What are you doing here, Wynn?” She tried to keep her face flat, but shame filled her eyes when she looked at me. I know what she did. I know what Blake did and I wanted to kick his ass, not for betraying me, because there was nothing to betray, yet. But I wanted to kick his ass for not using his fucking head and acting like an animal. For that, I wanted to kick his ass.

“I came from a job
,” I said as I sat on the step a couple below hers and put my elbows on my knees. “We ended on a bad note tonight and the scene screwed with me and I’m sure I'm breaking rules for telling you this, maybe even a law or two. Hell if I know, I take the photos. But this crime scene messed with me.

“
A man and woman attacked a boy. Anytime a human being attacks another it’s brutal. This was no different but it was far worse. He reminded me of myself a few years ago and that screwed with me the most. I swear as I took the photos of the crime scene, I felt the helplessness he felt.” I sighed as I ran my hands through my hair, trying to calm myself.

“I hated that the entire time I was there the thought that was predominant in my mind was how helpless it left me as I watched those elevator doors close between us
.” I looked at her. “I don’t want to feel that way ever again. I wanted to chase after you and tell you not to be afraid of me. I wanted to grab onto you and tell you how worthy you are of more than the shit you think in your head and that bullshit word on your wrist. But you won't believe me, because I wouldn't believe me either.”

She was silent and I could tell she was trying to act as though she w
ere fine, fighting her own helplessness. With her head lowered she said, “I’m sorry the scene messed with you.”

I kept my eyes looking at the step below me. She avoided my declar
ation again, so I did as well, for now. “It triggered memories.”

“What did?” s
he asked with an absent tone.

I sat closer to her and without hesitation I put my head in her lap. She didn’t push me away and I was grateful. “Everything.”

She put her hand to my hair and started running her fingers through it, “Why did you come
here
?” Her voice was quiet and empty.

“Because I needed this
,” I said as I put my arm around her waist.

“I tried to fuck your friend,
” she said without conviction, but kept running her fingers through my hair. She said
tried.
That means they
didn’t.
The realization caused my chest to tighten and relax at the same time. But she said it as if she were telling me she paid her phone bill today. It was a fact with her.

My first instinct was to be jealous and pissed, even though that was her intention for telling me. She wanted to justify feeling worthless, so instead of reacting, I said, “I know.”

Her hands stilled on my head. “What do you mean, you know?” I heard the catch in her throat as she responded.

“I saw you leave with him. I was on my way out for my job when you were pulling away in his jeep. It added to the screwed up memories I fought at the crime scene. I’m glad it was a try on your part though, and nothing happened
,” I said.

“Your friend has integrity
,” she said as she lifted her hands from my back. “You need to go, Wynn.” She sighed.

I sat up and put my hand on her back and leaned into her ear to whisper, “I need to stay right here, Hannah
.” I kissed her ear. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She raised her face and her eyes were bloodshot from tears that fell before I arrived, but her express
ion was blank. “I can’t do this,” she said aloud, but she did not want to believe her words. She was trying to convince herself that she needed to move on and away from me. Emotions fought across her face as she tried to hide them.

She was holding herself back because she saw herself as unworthy and evil. She was so broken and it made every primal instinct in me want to take it away. But I wasn’t going to let her see that. She needed to remember she was strong. I saw her strength the first time I laid eyes on her. She didn’t need someone to pity her. She needed to realize her own strength and pull herself out of her despair.

I leaned against the wall of the stairwell before I responded, “Hannah I understand expressions well. I’m a collector of them.” I took a deep breath before I continued. “I told you my mom was a real bitch. I had to hide my emotions in blank expressions with her in hopes that she couldn't guess what I was thinking. So I understand the look you’re giving me and because of that I will give you your space.” I lifted my hand and ran it through my hair. “As much as I don’t want to, I will. You’re a grown woman and you can make your own decisions. But I will be here for you. In whatever capacity you need.”

“Are you going to be my whipping boy, Wynn
—my little puppy dog? Or a guard dog is that what you think I need?” She spoke with scornful eyes and her words did hurt, but I knew angry words and I knew self-depreciating words. I had them thrown at me for years. I didn’t return the scornful look to her, but I didn’t give her pity or sadness either. My eyes bore into her as I wanted her to know I wasn’t going anywhere.

Hannah let out a sigh soaked in sadness
. “I’m toxic, Wynn. I am someone that has trampled on love and family. I’m a person that doesn’t care about other people. You don’t deserve my shit.” Her tears began to fall again. She had an endless supply of them.

I stood from my spot on the stairs. “That sounds like bullshit to me. Your statements are contradictory. You can’t tell me you don’t care about people, and in the next breath tell me I don’t deserve to put up with your shit. You care, Hannah. You feel too deep not to
care.” I put my hand toward her. “Come on, we should take you inside your apartment.”

“Fuck you,” s
he said as she kept her ass on the stairs. I leaned down and picked her up as she began to squirm and kick at me.

“You need to get in your apartment Hannah and I need to get home.”

“Fine, put me in my apartment, but I will turn my happy ass around and sit back on the freaking steps. I need the fresh air.” She gave me her determined, defiant eyes. I knew what she needed and it was the same as me, but she wasn’t willing to accept that she could need and want the same thing. In her mind, want was a curse word. She wanted with such intensity that it started her on this rollercoaster.
Want
was the source of her pain.

Her past had her so confused between her wants and her needs. Along her path she forgot that she needed people. That was something we shared.

I set her inside her apartment and shoving me away from her, she stood with vengeful eyes. “I don’t need you, Wynn
,”
she said and her voice broke. Her expression and tone didn’t match the words she chose as she inhaled. She pulled her lip in and looked to the ceiling with a tilted head as if to pour her tears back into her eyes.

I stepped toward her into the first genuine hug I ever gave anyone and as I wrapped my arms around her, she went slack. I lowered her to the floor and continued holding her as she began to sob. I continued to hold her despite the occasional hit she gave as if s
he wanted me to let go of her. But I didn’t. I was doing for her what no one ever did for me. I was accepting her pain as fact and not trying to erase it.

“Why did they die but I keep going on?”
she asked after she cried for several minutes. “She was so free. We both were when we were kids.”

“Why do any of us keep going on?” I leaned back against the wall and she followed suit and kept her head resting on my chest. “We forget we’re going to get there someday, too. Why beat ourselves up because we’re still here and
they arrived at our inevitable destination first?”

“I have to, because it’s my fault that they’re g
one. I ripped it away from them.” She sniffled as she ran her hand across my shirt. I think the rhythmic pattern centered her and it wasn’t a sign of intimacy. It was an unconscious way to separate herself from her thoughts.

“You can’t blame yourself. From the story you told of your sister, you may have made wrong decisions, but she did too. You can’t blame yourself for what she chose to do. Why do you keep saying
they
, Hannah?”

Taking a deep breath, she responded, “It wasn’t just her that died that day. She was pregnant. She didn’t just kill herself, she killed her baby too. It wasn’t Two’s. A random guy got her pregnant. She slept with him to get back at Two. So yeah, it’s my fault they’re dead.”

I held her tighter, not knowing how to respond to her as she continued. “I killed my sister and my niece or nephew because of what I did. Because I needed to be a free spirit when it came to experiences and because of what I thought I wanted in life, I ruined theirs.
I ended theirs
. And don’t tell me that I can’t take the blame for that, because I can. It’s
my
fault.” She leaned forward onto her crossed legs. “My parents were angry when they found out she was pregnant. She took her life. If I hadn’t done what I did, she never would have done what she did.” Hannah looked at me. “You need to get away from me too. You’re too good for—"

“
Don’t start that bullshit again,” I said with a pointed look. “You don’t know what I've done.” She sat up and met my eyes.

“No, you’re too good, because I like you and that means
that you’re too good for me,” she said with rational sincerity.

“Hannah, my mom died when I was sixteen and guess what my first thought was?” I leaned forward and rested my arms on my knees
. “I was grateful. I was thankful and excited that she was dead. I was free and alive for the first time. But that was brief. She still haunts me. I can’t go into a building without having a panic attack. I have to count my breaths to remind me that I am alive. I can’t be inside of cars without it happening too. Do you know why?” She shook her head.

“Because of what she did to me and because of what I did to myself. That isn’t where it ends with my chaos and lack of goodness. I used to beat the shit out of people after high school. From her abuse, an urge filled me to inflict as much pain on others. There are guys lucky to be alive after how bad I was at times. So yeah, I understand guilt and hurting others.”

“But you didn’t,” she said.

“Didn’t what?” I gave her a slight scowl.

“You didn’t kill them. You can’t understand. You weren’t the force that took another life,” she said as she straightened and met my eyes with her usual defiance.

“No, I wasn’t. But neither were you. I can repeat that over and over to you and you won’t understand. I don’t get it when people say I should ride in a freaking car and not use my fire escape to get into my home. We have our issues and our minds made up on what the truth is. But what we need to both realize is that our perception is skewed. One thing I do know is this—people are assholes and they always will be. Your sister was one too.”

Her eyes widened as she gave me a shocked expression. “What? How can you say that?”

“She was an asshole for telling your parents about you and your boyfriend. Your parents were assholes for treating you like you were a piece of trash for being who you were. Granted, you could experience all the things you wanted with the right person and not how you
did. But they were still assholes. And I’m being an asshole for what I just said to you. But the point is. It doesn’t matter that they’re assholes or that I’m an asshole. It’s not your business. What matters is that you aren’t an asshole to yourself. You have to choose to make your thoughts your bitch remember. What better time than when they start to be assholes?” I laughed.

“I number men
.” She lowered her head. “I number them and collect them. I lose their faces and don’t ask for their names. I let them take a piece of me with every screw to make me as hollow physically as I feel emotionally. That’s my penance. I’m an asshole.”

“I know,” I said and s
he gave me a stunned expression. “Well, not about being an asshole or the numbering, but that you let them use you. Is that why you went home with Blake?” She nodded and I sighed. “Okay. What do you want to do now? Do you want to continue as you have or do you want to make your issues your bitch?”

She laughed at that as she used her sleeve to wipe her nose. I found myself seeing it as both gros
s and cute. “Make them my bitch.” She laughed through tear filled eyes.