Southern Seduction (29 page)

“Aw hell, I don’t know.” He shrugs. “Why don’t you just lean back and we’ll talk and exchange stories?”

“Um, okay.” I sigh and turn to rest my back against the headboard as he moves over to give me room.

“Comfy?” He pats my leg.

“Sure.” I nod. “What shall we talk about?”

“Well, let’s start with simple stuff. Where’s your mom?”

My breath stops. “That’s not simple.”

“Why?”

“She’s dead.”

“God, Shelby, I’m so sorry.” He grabs my hand. “How long?”

“Three years. Is your real name Kip, or is that a nickname?” I need to divert attention from myself.

“Nickname,” he says as his thumb takes to circling around the top of my hand.

“How did you get it? It seems odd.” The fact that I’m not pulling my hand away also seems odd—to me.

“I loved soccer when I was little.”

“What does that have to do with your name?” I shoot him a confused look.

“All I thought about was kicking the ball. All day, I wanted to kick the ball around. The only problem was, I couldn’t say ‘kick’—it would come out as ‘kip.’ So I would ask to kip the ball. I guess it stuck. They’ve been calling me ‘Kip’ ever since.” He chuckles when he sees me biting back my smile. I can actually picture him, all little and cute, asking to kip the ball. “It’s good to see you smile, Shelby.”

“I’m glad to see you’re feeling better,” I say quietly.

“I’m getting there, thanks to you.” His fingers come up to my jawline and brush it gently. I close my eyes and try to fight the stirring in my belly. Every time he touches me, it feels amazing. Problem is, I don’t
want
his touch to feel amazing. I don’t want to feel anything for him at all. I shake my head a little, more so to tell him to stop. “I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “Please, don’t lash out at me or run from my room. I just wanna talk. I won’t touch you like that again.”

I open my eyes to look into his seemingly concerned ones.
Jesus Christ, I want to kiss him.
God, why? He is not good for me! He’s a player. I don’t need to be played. What is wrong with me? This is exactly why I’ve been avoiding him.

He nudges me. “Tell me somethin’ about you?”

“Huh?” I ask, breaking out of my
I want to kiss him
trance.

“Tell me somethin’. What was the name of your last crush?” he asks.

“Nobody. I never had a crush on anyone.”
Or a real boyfriend, for that matter.

“You never liked anyone more than jus’ a friend?” He scrunches his eyebrows at me.

“Nope ... never.”
Except you.
What? What in the hell?

“Oh my God. Are you into ladies?” His eyes just about pop out.

“What?! No!” I yelp, mortified.

“Oh, thank Christ!” He breathes out a gush of what I think is relief.

“Why did you decide to move out here?”

“I needed to get away from my stepfather.” Shit. Why did I just tell him that?

“Why? Was he a jerk?” he asks as he starts playing with my hand.

“That’s an understatement,” I say under my breath.

“More of a jerk than your uncle?” He whips his head back.

“Believe it or not, I think so. Although, the jury is still out on that one.” I smirk.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asks before sliding down on his bed so he’s lying on his side. He tugs me down and, for reasons unbeknownst to me, I comply.

We lie there, staring at each other like it’s something we’ve done our whole lives. There is something very familiar about him, but I can’t put my finger on it.

“Well, why don’t you tell me?”

“I don’t think it’s something I can talk about, Kip.” I glance down, away from his eyes. Probably not the smartest move, since now I’m staring at the way his tank top hugs his very defined chest and abs.

His forefinger curls under my chin and pushes my face up gently, making me look into his eyes.

“Did he physically hurt you, Shelby?”

I see the concern all over his face, but I can’t say a word. I wouldn’t know where to begin. I swallow hard and close my eyes tight to fight off the memories. Memories that I’m sure will haunt me for the rest of my life. And for what? In the end, I couldn’t keep Nate safe. I never once thought there were bigger monsters than the ones that came in and out of our house.

“Shelby, you’re shaking. God, what did he do to you?” Kip pulls me into his arms, face-planting me against his chest. And ... for the very first time, I let it all go and sob, releasing my pain from its cage.

The memories flood every fiber of my being as they escape the emotional graves I buried them in. The day Owen beat my cancer-ridden mother because she was too sick to buy him his beer, Nate and I both jumped to protect her. Nate ended up with a bloody nose and busted lip. I had the last of my innocence taken away from me. My mother died two days later, the final shot to her system being the grief over the evil she would be leaving her kids with. Her last words to me were
I’m sorry.
That was after she told me to let this part of my life be only a chapter, and not my whole story. My mom always said things like that. Always displayed her wisdom in unique ways that other mothers didn’t use. That’s one of the things I loved most about her.

After her death, the gray cloud over our heads grew darker. I needed to stay put to take care of Nate until I could get a job that paid decent. Staying came with a huge price. Owen had become a drunk over the last few years of my mother’s life. What happened the days before her death was only the beginning of what I would endure.

“Shelby, you’re shaking, baby.” Kip squeezes me tighter to him. I have to admit—I haven’t felt this safe since I was a little girl, especially in a man’s arms.

Over the past few days, I’ve come to realize that there is indeed some sort of familiarity with Kip. I can’t quite put my finger on it, though. Being this close to him, in his arms, and feeling this safe—I don’t want to question it anymore, nor do I want to fight it. I need something to feel
right
in my life and, for some reason, he does.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes. I look up at him. He wipes my tears away. “I shouldn’t have called you ‘baby.’ I don’t wanna make you feel uncomfortable.”

“No. It’s okay.” I grab his hand. “It was nice. It felt right,” I say quietly. I let go and snuggle my face back into his chest. He runs his hand down my side to my hip. He squeezes and pushes me back a little. I look up at him.

“Shelby, you do realize what you just said, right?” He furrows his brows slightly.

“Yes.”

“And you realize you’ve opened up a door that I will not allow you to shut, right?” He reaches back up to palm my face.

“Yes.” I swallow. His mouth is so close to mine. I stare at his lips and can’t help but lick my own.

“Aw hell, Shelby,” he groans lightly. “I wanna kiss you so bad right now, but I don’t wanna get you sick.” He shakes his head and pulls his mouth away from me. I lean up quickly, pressing my lips to his anyhow. He stills at first, but then slowly parts his lips to pull mine into another kiss. It’s so gentle, so ... patient. He pulls away, only to glide his tongue across the slit of my mouth. I open and he deepens the kiss, taking my breath away. I slide my arm around to his back and pull him closer to me. Never have I
ever
been kissed like this. I’ve only read about this kind of kiss. Never have I ever been completely covered by a man and not feel an ounce of fear or disgust by it. Kip feels like home—whatever that means. He pulls away slowly, giving me several soft pecks before leaning his forehead against mine. “Are you okay?” he pants.

“Yes,” I breathe. He moves off of me and back onto his side. He stares at me for several minutes, not saying another word. “What?” I finally ask him.

“I’m a little confused, that’s all.”

“Me too,” I admit.

“Can you tell me what happened with your stepfather?” He reaches forward and pushes a strand of hair behind my ear.

“No.” I shake my head adamantly.

“Can you tell me about Nate?”

“He’s my brother,” I say. I’m not sure if I can go there.

“I know that, Shelby. Where is he?” he asks, and I can tell he’s trying to be very patient with me.

“With my mom.” My voice shakes.

“Jesus,” he whispers. “What happened?” He grabs my hand.

“I ...”

“You’re safe with me. You need to talk about whatever it is, baby. I’m here. Let me in, please.” He looks into my eyes, and there it is again. That familiarity I can’t seem to figure out.
What is it with him?
Whatever it is, it only encourages me to trust him. I take in a deep breath and release it—along with some pieces of the wall I took so long to build.

“Nate was three years younger than me. He was my parents’ miracle baby. My mom had trouble conceiving after me because of fibrous cysts that overwhelmed her ovaries. Anyways, he had to have an operation after he was born to remove a growth on his neck they believed was his twin.”

“What?” He jerks his head back, his eyes wide.

“I know. Sounds freaky, right?” I smile slightly. “It’s actually pretty common for an egg to be fertilized and split into two. Most of the time, one egg will get absorbed into the other before anyone would ever know there were two eggs. Sometimes it doesn’t and people expect twins, but one of the twins will steal all of the nutrients from the other. Sometimes one egg will get absorbed into the other, but not fully. That’s how you get conjoined twins, or as they used to call it, Siamese twins. Well, that’s what happened to my brother. His twin didn’t fully absorb into him. This left him with a growth on his neck that was God-awful looking and probably unhealthy.” I pause for a breath and watch as Kip plays with my fingers.

“Go ahead,” he verbally nudges me.

“So they performed surgery on him. What was supposed to be a quick fix to a better life ended up being a sentence to a life of disabilities and challenges that Nate should never have had to endure. He ended up with cerebral palsy. Luckily, he was able to walk and talk, though it took him longer to learn than most, but he wasn’t ever capable of fully taking care of himself. He was very slow. He needed redirection a lot of the time. He was really sweet, though. A gentle giant. So kind.” I choke up a bit. “There wasn’t a mean bone in his body. It pleased him to help others, made him feel important.” I break to let my tears just come. I always let myself cry for my brother. He deserves my tears. He deserves to always be remembered and mourned for.

“Do you wanna stop?” His voice pulls me back.

“Nope. I just needed a minute.” I wipe my tears away. “When our mom died, Nate was only a few months short of his eighteenth birthday. I wanted to leave that hellhole we called home, but I couldn’t go without him. I also didn’t earn enough to take custody of him. If I had brought attention to our living situation, he would’ve been removed and put God-knows-where. So we stayed, and I tried my hardest to save whatever I could. It wasn’t much because Owen took everything from me.” I hiccup-sob, a reflex from trying to keep my emotions under wraps. “Needless to say, it took me longer than the few months to get us on our feet. The only roof I could keep over our heads was my stepfather’s, and it was a costly price I paid, but Nate was worth it. In hindsight, it would’ve been safer for both of us had I at least put him in a group home, but I didn’t want us to be separated. That ended up being the end result anyhow.” I stop to allow myself to cry. I have never told anyone this before. It’s therapeutic and completely painful, all at the same time. I inhale deeply. “Six months ago, Nate and I went into town to do some errands. I left him to go into the pharmacy. Sue, the librarian, was taking Trots, the reading-group dog, for a walk, and Nate wanted to pet him. When I finally got back outside, Nate was in the walkway of the intersection and a man was yelling at him and shoving him. Nate kept trying to tell the man something about his daughter, but the guy didn’t know Nate and completely flipped out on him. I yelled at him to stop and tried to get to them, but I was too late. The man shoved Nate so hard he went into oncoming traffic and was hit by a car. I watched my brother fly into the air as I ran to him, and heard the crush of his skull when he hit the ground.” I can’t control my sobs now. I’m not even sure if Kip can understand what I am saying. “Do you know what my brother’s last words were to me when I got to him?”

“What?” He swallows, his eyes red.

“‘The little girl’s shoelace is tangled in her bike chain ... fix it so she doesn’t get hurt.’” I shake my head, crying and still unable to believe that his last thought was of somebody else, of making sure they were okay. But that’s just who Nate was. “Then his eyes went blank, and I never got to talk to my brother again. He died in my arms, in the middle of the street, because some asshole father wouldn’t listen to what he was saying. Instead, he thought my brother was some sort of pervert trying to grab his daughter.”

“Jesus Christ, Shelby. God, I’m so sorry.” He chokes lightly as he pulls me back into his arms. “I’m so sorry,” he says against my hair.

We lay like this for several minutes, holding each other and listening to the rhythm of our synchronized breathing. A combination of calmness and pure exhaustion sweeps over me. I feel it lulling me to sleep, and I let it.