Torn (Devils Wolves Book 1) (12 page)

* * *

A
fter we take
the dog to the animal hospital and wait for him to be admitted, Tor drives me home. Wordlessly. It's clear he's uncomfortable, and I'm confused, unsure what to do or say. Shouldn't we talk about what happened?

What
did
happen?

"Tor...should we...talk, maybe?" I ask tentatively.

His body goes rigid, his jaw clenches, and several incredibly long moments drag on before he finally speaks.

"I'm sorry."

Sorry?
Those words could mean anything, and everything - but I haven't a clue what he wants them to mean.

I start to speak, but he puts his hand up, stopping me. "Please, Kenzi. I can't."

The torturous tone of his voice shreds my insides, rendering me utterly speechless and even more confused. I've never seen him like this before. All I want to do is reach out to him, make him talk to me like we always do, but he's making it very clear that he
can't
. Or won't. He's put a wall up, and I don't know if I'm supposed to knock it down or let it stay there. Some walls need to be taken down, to get to a resolution. But other walls...those walls have to stay up to protect us.

I jump out of his truck without so much as a goodbye when he drops me off at home, I go straight up to my room, grateful that my father isn't home yet because I don't want to see or talk to anyone right now. I need to be alone with my feelings and try to calm my racing thoughts and shaking insides.

Everything's suddenly been turned upside down.

He kissed me.

A real kiss, with passion and desire.

He growled at me.

A feral, lusty sound that I can still hear. And I want more.

A lot more.

10
Tor

Kenzi ~ age thirteen

Toren ~ age twenty-eight

I
t's a beautiful
, warm spring day as I ride my bicycle to his house. My basket is filled with milk, bread, some cans of soup, orange juice, and chocolate chip cookies because they're his favorite.

I frown with worry when I see his truck in the driveway because it's Wednesday afternoon and he should be at the shop working. Letting myself into his house with my key, I empty the shopping bag onto the counter and throw out the old food in his fridge before I put the new groceries in that I picked up for him.

"Uncle Tor?" I call down the hall. "I'm here. It's my cleaning day."

He doesn't answer, and a quick check out the door to his back yard, and his bedroom turns up empty, but his bathroom door is partly closed.

"Tor?" I hesitate before I push the door further open, and it hits his body that's sprawled out on the bathroom floor. My heart slams into my throat as I kneel down next to him on the tile. Relief washes over me when I see his chest moving up and down. He's not dead.

"Tor!" I shake him harder than I should and he mumbles and grumbles at me. The stench of alcohol coming off him is overpowering.

"You're drunk," I observe, disgusted. "Get off the floor. You're lying in your own puke."

I want to be sick myself seeing him this way, wasted on the floor. This is not the man I grew up adoring.

He grabs onto my leg. "You're such a good kid, Kenzi," he slurs.

"You're a mess."

He rolls over away from me. "I'll never be good enough."

Grabbing his arm, I try to tug him up, but he's way too heavy for me. "I don't know what you're babbling about, but you're getting off this floor and taking a shower. Now."

I manage to heave him up into a sitting position and he slumps against the wall, trying to focus on me. His eyes are bloodshot, his hair a mess, and he's gone at least a week without shaving.

"You're the only one who really loves me, Angel," he says sadly.

Turning the shower head on, I pull the curtain closed so the floor doesn't get drenched.

"That's not true at all. Get your ass in that shower and then into bed so I can clean this mess you made. If I catch you like this again, I'm telling my father. We're not going to let you do this to yourself."

* * *

Tor

S
he hauled ass
out of my truck like a cyclone and slammed the door so hard behind her I'm surprised the airbag didn't blow.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I fucked up huge.

I've fucked up a lot in my life. And that, my friends, was the biggest fuckup ever.

I've been sitting on my couch for over an hour, in complete darkness and silence, volleying between wanting to get drunk off my ass on some hardcore liquor, calling up Sydni or Lisa and fucking the shit out of them to make myself forget what I just did, or puking my guts out. But what I really want to do is call her and hear her voice. Or better yet, see her again. After what happened, I have an intense need to know if I've affected her. Will her voice sound shaky and nervous or will it have that new wistfulness I've caught glimpses of in the past few weeks? Is she hiding in her room like I am, ashamed and confused? Or is she laying on her bed wearing one of my many shirts, with rainbow fuzzy socks on her feet, a faint smile on her lips, thinking about me? Possibly wanting me?

Fuck me.
I want to kiss her again.

Kenzi.

My niece-by-association. My best friend’s daughter. My little partner in crime for the past seventeen years.

I kissed her like a fucking deranged animal and she
let
me. In fact, it felt an awful lot like she enjoyed it.

She welcomed it.

I lean my head into my hands and push my fingers into my skull.

No, asshole. She didn't want it. She couldn't want it. You scared the shit out of her. She's just a kid.

It was an accident, conjured up from the emotions of the situation. She was scared after watching me running through traffic and I was high on adrenaline and it all created some wacked out reaction between us. That's all it was.

Nothing else.

Nothing. Else.

Standing, I pace the dark room like a caged bear. What if she tells Asher? He'll fucking kill me. And if he does? I deserve it.
I'll let him kill me.
I won't even fight back.

She won't tell him, though. She would talk to me first. Which she tried to do, and I wouldn't let her.
I couldn't.
Because I'm a douche, just like Sydni and Lisa told me I was. I don't communicate. And here's a big fucking reminder of how true that is staring me right in the face.

There's a bottle of whiskey hidden in my closet in case of emergencies and major fuckups like this. My skin is crawling with the intense need to drink the entire thing and pass out cold to forget what I did.

Instead, I yank my phone out of my back pocket and hover my finger over the keyboard. I can't avoid her like I've done to others in the past. If I'm this fucked in the head right now, what the hell is she feeling? I probably scared her to death, and I can't let her feel that way.

I type out a quick, nervous text:

M
e
: Angel...you okay?

F
ive agonizing
minutes pass while I sit on my bedroom floor and stare at my closet door.

K
enzi
: Yes. Are you? I hope you washed that road rash on your hand and leg so you don't get infected.

G
od
. Why does she always try to take care of me?

M
e
: I will.

Kenzi: Have you heard any news on the big fluffy dog?

Me: Not yet.

Kenzi: I like him a lot. He just wanted love, even though he was hurt and lost. He reminds me of you.

M
y chest contracts
.

Me: Ya think?

Kenzi: Yup.

Me: I'm sorry I scared you.

Kenzi: You never scare me, Tor.

S
hit
. Wrong answer, little girl. Wrong.Fucking.Answer.

K
enzi
: Maybe you're scared.

I
want
to throw my phone against the wall. I don't know what to say to that. I'm afraid to say anything because I don't trust anything about myself right now. This kid has always had a microscope right into my soul and it's driving me mad.

Am I scared?

Yes. I'm petrified of what she's made me feel.

K
enzi
: Everything is okay, Tor.

M
y fingers are shaking
as I type back on the tiny keyboard.

M
e
: Is it?

Kenzi: Yes. It is.

H
er words
convey comfort and confidence - not fear as I expected.

I
don't reply
and a few minutes later, a text message comes through with a picture of a penny, and she's typed the words
I wish you wouldn't worry
across it. The last thing I feel like doing is smiling, but I do, because that's what she does to me.

M
e
: Thanks, Angel.

Kenzi: No drinking. Promise me?

I
shake
my head at the phone. She knows me too well. Better than she really should.

Me: I promise.

Kenzi: Good.

I
breathe
a deep sigh of relief as I toss my phone off to the side. We've silently agreed to pretend the kiss never happened.

Bullshit.

* * *

F
or the past
two weeks I've been laying low, working on my bike, landscaping my yard, and training this goofy white dog who almost got me killed and then led to me kissing someone my lips had no right to be on. When my mom told me no one ever came to claim the dog, I went over and adopted him and he stuck his head out the truck window on the way home with the wind in his face as we drove right past the place I saved him. I couldn't let a beautiful dog like this sit in a concrete kennel recuperating with a broken leg, right? At least that's what I told Mom.

We know the real reason, though. Because Kenzi fell in love with him in the back seat that day and now he has sentimental value. He witnessed our first kiss.

First and last kiss
, I remind myself.
First and last.

I
haven't talked
to her since that day due to her having her wisdom teeth pulled out and then she came down with
the worst friggin' cold ever
. At least that's what her text message told me. I did go to her graduation and stood with her family like I always have, watching her take steps into adulthood. She didn't say one word to me at the ceremony. In fact, she barely looked at me. I declined the invitation of going back to Asher's house for a small party afterwards. I felt too guilty being near her and all her loved ones, afraid someone would notice a difference between us, or that I'd have a meltdown and admit what I did to all of them while we stood around eating cake.

I
s she avoiding me
? The possibility has crossed my mind several thousand times, and it hurts me in a way I can't describe, but it's the way it should be. I kissed a fucking seventeen-year-old girl.
Seventeen
. That little fact turns my stomach every time I think of it. She thinks of me as her uncle. I'm closer to her than her
own
uncles are. I've never once been even remotely attracted to anyone under twenty-one before, unless I was that age myself. But something about Kenzi is different. She doesn't act or look her age at all. I've come to think of her as more of a friend than anything else over the past few years, and I have no idea how that even happened. Up until now, I never thought about our relationship as unhealthy or wrong. Now I'm second guessing everything.

I
've texted
her pictures of the newly-groomed and incredibly white fluffy dog, whom I've named Diogee. She texted back that as soon as she feels better she's coming right over to play with him and vacuum up all the white fur that's accumulating in places of my house that I never thought dog fur could end up.

I have mixed feelings about seeing her again, and I try to convince myself it will be a good way to prove to myself that what happened was just a one-time mistake that will never happen again. But mixed in with that is hidden excitement and longing. I want to see her smile at me with those lips that tasted so delicious.
Even if I can never taste them again.

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