Chapter 22
Jett never dressed in all black, too cliché. But tonight it fit his mood. He’d taken
his time also. This was too important not to look his best. His black shirt was ironed,
boots polished, black felt hat brushed. He believed rushing resulted in failure. Success
was always in the details.
He’d walked up the front steps of the Logans’ home, but hesitated before knocking.
He knew this house brought back a lot of memories for Nikki, mostly bad. But Jett
had his share of memories here also. He’d been the new kid in the second grade, and
in a town that measured residency in generations, it hadn’t been an easy transition.
That first day Jett watched Cole eye his new skateboard with a hunger that Jett, at
eight years old, had never seen. Desperate for a friend, he gave Cole the board. No
big deal—he had five more at home. That was all it took, a twenty-dollar toy, and
Cole was committed for life. Yeah, Cole was pigheaded, they’d thrown blows like brothers,
but in the end he knew Cole always had his back.
Or at least he had until last night. Taking his sister’s virginity was more than likely
crossing the line.
There had been summers he’d basically lived at the Logans’ house. His dad traveled,
and his mom had her social functions to attend to. Lord only knows what his sisters
had been up to, something to do with boys probably. At the Logans’, Jett had found
a mom who’d always been willing to throw a kid a baloney sandwich and chocolate milk.
At the Logans’, he found a place where he could spend the whole day down at the lake
concocting a death-defying rope swing. Where he could get dirty and no one cared what
his table manners were like. When he’d gotten older, he found a father who would rope
him and Cole into painting a barn or a fence. Who taught them how to fix a spark plug
and flush a radiator. Who would make them wake up at dawn to work the horse ranch,
and taught Jett what a full day’s work meant.
When Jett met a girl he liked, he’d bring her here to dinner first. If she didn’t
make the cut with the Logans, he didn’t even bother bringing her home to his parents.
When Cole’s father died, Jett never saw Cole cry. But Jett had. He’d been sixteen,
the same age as Cole, and when he’d heard the news, he’d driven out to the lake and
wept like a baby.
When Jett had found out about Mrs. Logan’s diagnosis, he’d come right over, determined
to make Cole see reason. Cole could balk all he wanted, scream about charity or not,
but Jett was going to make Cole get his mom the best medical treatment money could
buy. The best Avery money could buy. Their friendship had almost ended that night.
It wasn’t until after a bloody lip and a few bruised ribs that Cole broke down and
told him it was too late. “It’s in her bones, Jett. She’s already dead.”
He’d understood why Nikki wanted to leave. Too much pain. She’d been the sole caregiver
for her mom in the last year of her life. It was enough to drive a person crazy—he
guessed in a way it had. Nikki had changed after that, had gotten angrier, harder
to tame. But he had just as much reason to stay. This was where his life had happened.
His roots were here. Family was here. And whether Nikki realized it or not, this was
where she needed to be. Here with him.
He had practiced what he was going to say. But now that he was standing there, looking
down into Nikki’s face, the words deserted him.
She was a mess. Hair tangled around her face, eyes red-rimmed, face blotchy. Dressed
in a tank top, cut-off sweats, and bare feet reminding him of the child she used to
be, living in hand-me-downs and Goodwill clothes. Also reminding him of the seventeen-year-old
girl he’d held as he whispered his heart into her ear.
And all the anger he felt broke, and got caught up in his chest. He reached out and
touched her face. A stroke of her cheek, a look in her eye. “Babe.”
And that was all it took. Her face crumpled, eyes filled with tears, and then she
buried her face in his shirt.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she said.
“I’m right where I need to be.”
“I don’t want you here.”
“You’re a bad liar.”
“No.” She shook her head, sniffling against his shirt. “I’m a real good liar, Jett.
And that’s why you have to go.”
He stroked the top of her head, almost giddy at the feeling of her vulnerable in his
arms. He took in the scent of her shampoo and closed his eyes, wanting to imprint
the moment in his mind. No one but he saw Nikki like this. “Nik, you’re not making
any sense.”
Her fingers fisted into his shirt, and she pushed him away. “Why? Why did you have
to go and ruin it?”
“I don’t understand. Why does us loving each other have to ruin anything?”
She swiped at her cheeks with the palm of her hand. Vulnerable Nikki was gone. He
could see the storm gathering in her dark blue eyes. “Do you really think this”—she
pointed toward herself—“is ever going to have a happy ending? My life doesn’t work
like that.”
“So what, you’re saying that you don’t want to try? Is that it? You know what your
problem is, Nik? You don’t want to be happy.”
“I want to be happy.”
“Then trust me.”
“Never.”
He groaned. “Christ, Nik, we have to start somewhere.”
She shook her head. “I can try, Jett, but you’ve gotta trust me, and I don’t think
you’ve heard a word I’ve said.”
He refused to accept that she was willing to throw what they had away rather than
try to make it work. He wouldn’t believe it. Life had chucked a few obstacles in his
path, but in the end Averys always got their way. “Hear this.”
He picked her up and slammed her against the wall. His mouth was on hers, hot and
open, and he refused to accept anything but everything she had to give. She wouldn’t
hold herself apart from him. He wanted all of her. She belonged with him.
She kissed him back, but it wasn’t just passion behind her kiss. There was a hunger.
And a sadness so dark that for a moment he was afraid she would take him down with
her. For one breath, he got what she had been saying. She believed there were forces
a person couldn’t fight against. And even as strong as he was, her force was stronger.
She saw herself drowning and when she did, she thought she’d take him with her.
But things weren’t going to go down like that. He wouldn’t let them. He broke away
to look her in the eye. “Nik?”
He wasn’t sure what to say. He’d always known there was a dark side to her. How could
there not be? Both parents dead, growing up hard, it was to be expected. But Jett
had never walked that line, had never lived in that place.
“You can’t save me, Jett.”
But the Logans hadn’t cornered the market on stubbornness. “Life doesn’t have to be
this way. It can be good, Nik. Give me a chance. That’s all I’m asking. What’s the
worst that can happen?”
“You’d end up hating me.”
He bent his knees a little to bring himself to her eye level. “Never gonna happen.”
Tears rose in her eyes again. Fat drops swelled the reddened rims before she blinked
them away. “Jett, I know things about myself. I know what I can handle, and I’ve handled
a lot. But I couldn’t handle you hating me. I couldn’t wake up ten years from now
to see that look in your eyes. The resentment in your face that I ruined your life.”
He shook his head. “You won’t see that. I wouldn’t do that to you. Don’t worry.”
“Do you believe me when I tell you I couldn’t handle that—you hating me? Do you believe
I know what I’m talking about?”
“What I believe is that you’re scared. But I also know you are the most courageous
woman I’ve ever met. I’m offering you a hand, a promise that even though I can’t face
the demons for you, I can stand beside you.”
She started to cry all over again. “Your mother hates me.”
He stifled his sigh of relief. “Good thing you won’t be sleeping with my mother.”
Nikki shook her head, but an upturn of her lips broke through her tears. “Don’t throw
your Avery-charm smile at me. I haven’t agreed to anything yet.”
But she would, and he found out that was all that really mattered.
The porch was empty when Katie returned. It didn’t matter. She could picture exactly
what Cole was doing, in his bed, with someone else. Her imagination created the pornographic
images, the ones of sweat and skin, the ones that broke her heart because it had never
been her. She’d never been chosen.
Later, when she thought on it, she wouldn’t remember grabbing the baseball bat, but
it was there. Strong and smooth and a tad cool, a perfect extension of her hand.
She suspected inside every human being was a secret place where dark things were born
and nourished. Most people kept theirs locked down tight. But not her, not tonight.
Cole’s betrayal was the sledgehammer that broke hers wide open.
In her gut she’d already decided what to do, but not until the rising moon glinted
off the chrome could she have verbalized it. The deep-maroon truck appeared black
in the night, along with the gleam of metal, and the wide target of headlights.
Her heart rushed to her throat as she closed the distance.
She twisted her clenched palms over the roughness of the grip tape. Squeezed and twisted
again, loving the friction. She planted her feet, and swung.
Pop. Crack.
Too easy.
The next headlight shattered like the blown seeds of a dandelion in a mild breeze.
Not enough. Not nearly enough.
The bumper took a bit more. Her hands grew numb from the kickback. The side mirrors
were nothing, simple obstructions to the smooth lines of the doors.
Snap.
Katie walked around to the back and smiled. There in perfect symmetry were two red,
rectangle bull’s-eyes. So fragile, nothing more than plastic.
Child’s play.
She walked to the other side, and with the swing of her bat, another side mirror was
gone. Katie stepped back to where she’d started, but was nowhere near done.
Suddenly, light bathed the truck, making the windshield beckon pristine as snow after
a night’s storm. And like a child wanting to be the first to mark the world, Katie
crawled up on top of the hood.
Was there a noise in the distance? A yell? Didn’t matter, the roar of her blood blocked
all sound. Elbow, knee, knee, elbow and she stood on the hood, scrambling to find
balance as her boots screeched on the metal. She hoped the scratches were deep. As
destructive as his lying words when he had asked her to marry him.
Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want to say yes.
Katie swung. Spider lines splintered out in a circular web across the windshield.
Say it. Say yes.
She raised the bat again, but instead of swinging forward, it caught on something.
Her boots slipped out from under her. She lost her balance and landed hard on her
butt. A bite of steel gripped her arm and pulled her off the hood. Strong arms kept
her from falling, but there was no room for graciousness. She knew who held her and
threw an elbow in thanks. It was blocked with a quick shift of his body.
“Katie, stop!” Cole shouted in her ear.
Her head snapped back and forth as he shook her. She struggled even more. She wasn’t
done. It wasn’t enough, not nearly enough. Her pain was still bigger than the damage
she’d inflicted.
Cole’s arms wrapped around her from behind, his thumbs found a tender spot along her
wrists and squeezed. The bat fell from her numb fingers.
And it was all too familiar, her back to Cole, him subduing, her breaking. But she
wasn’t the young fool she’d once been, and would never be again. She stopped fighting.
“Let me go.” Her voice was as sharp as the shards of glass littered in the dirt drive.
“What the hell were you thinking?” he yelled.
Her feet left the ground as he shook her with the intensity of his words.
“Let me go, Cole.”
Katie swallowed against the sob lodged in her throat. She wouldn’t cry, not now, but
later, when she was alone. Later she could scream into her pillow or retreat to the
bottom of a bottle, but not now. She struggled, didn’t want him close. Didn’t want
her body to remember how he felt against hers.
Cole didn’t release her, his ragged breathing fast and furious against her neck. “Not
this time.”
A searing pain burned her chest. He spoke as if she’d had a choice in her leaving.
“No, Cole, like every time. Like every damn time.” She renewed her struggle. “And
this will be no different because I saw you!” she spat out.
And true to form, he let her go.
She whipped around, fists at her sides, ready to fight. The roar in her blood rose
to a new level, and the fact that he was still breathing meant she hadn’t done enough.