Chapter 5
Amaris
Amaris slammed her shoulder into the stuck lock of their stupid front door. After Viv had finally stopped pestering her, they’d gone shopping at the mall and spent the evening at their favorite hangout. The Boiling Pantry was a tarot shop and lounge Viv loved dragging Amaris to.
Now, with her body reeking of incense and her keys stuck, she winced and gazed up at the porch light flickering beside her. Grunting, she kicked at the door, but it refused to budge.
She leaned her head against the cool metal. She hated this door. She hated this house. Fuck, she swore, I hate today.
She stepped back, braced for impact, and charged for the door. It swung open, and her feet slipped against the hall rug as she fell into Derek’s arms. Intoxicated wasn’t a strong enough word to describe the smell smacking her in the face. His breath, his body, everything reeked of his cheap scotch.
“You know the door likes to swell in the humidity,” he grumbled, shouldering it to get it to shut.
“I know,” Amaris said, wiping her tennis shoes on the rug as she pushed further into the house.
She kicked off her shoes and stepped onto the cold floorboards.
She veered toward the kitchen to assess the level of the scotch bottle on the counter.
A thud and curse erupted behind her. The hairs along her neck spiked.
With her heart caught in her throat, she turned to see Derek collapsed on the floor. Her shoes flew into the living room.
“What the hell, Amaris?” he thundered. “You leave your shit anywhere.”
Her eyes threatened to mist with the familiar burning sensation. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered.
No, not again. She took cautious steps toward him and offered a hand. He pushed her gesture aside, pressing against the wall instead. His staggering gait swayed as he took his first step. Her instincts made her reach to steady him.
“I’m fine,” he spat, brushing past her toward the kitchen.
She followed him but paused at the swinging kitchen door. She needed to hold it together. For one night, she wanted to make it through without shouting or breaking down and crying.
Her hand trembled against the white wood, but she forced it to surrender. Derek poured another glass of scotch. She grabbed a beer from the fridge and hopped onto the counter beside him.
“How was work?” She gripped her beer tight to keep her hands from shaking.
“Shitty,” he uttered, swirling the scotch in the bottom of his glass. “You didn’t call me about that fire you had.” He set the glass on the counter with a deafening ring.
She lifted her gaze, her heart torn. Part of her wanted to melt at the sight of him, and the other wanted to cower and lock herself in the bathroom.
He looked the same as when he’d dropped on one knee with his denim jeans, black baggy shirt, and a backward baseball cap.
It was the same one she’d given him when they’d first started dating.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” she said, fixing her attention to the sweat dripping down her beer. “I did my job.”
“You almost got yourself killed.” He gripped the counter, his power and strength building beneath.
“I’m fine.”
“But I’m not,” he began. “Why did I have to hear about your reckless stunt from one of your captains?”
“It wasn’t reckless,” she said under her breath.
“What was that?” he growled, releasing the tension he held on the counter and turning to her. He leaned in, his scotch breath drowning her senses like her head was being run under a garden hose.
“Nothing,” she choked, fighting the lump in her throat.
“Why do you do this to me?”
“It’s my job.” Taking note of her sudden rise in volume, she bit her tongue. If things were ever going to change, she couldn’t feed into his anger and retaliate with her own.
“Your job?” he shouted. “Your job is to keep yourself and your crew safe.”
“Don’t bring Charlie into this,” she demanded.
“Why? You didn’t care when you dragged him along in that fire.”
Amaris set her beer on the counter and gripped the outer edges of her arms. “Derek, stop it.”
“No. Why did you hide this from me? Is it because you knew what you did was stupid and careless?”
“Why does everyone keep berating me? I gave them a chance,” she choked. “When I took my oath to serve and protect, I knew it meant putting my life on the line. That’s what I did, and I’ll gladly do it again.”
Jumping from the counter, she stomped out of the kitchen before her meltdown could consume her. She ran to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. The cool water from the faucet drew a breath from her as she splashed it against her flushed cheeks.
Why can’t anyone understand me? She took a handful to fill her mouth, swallowing everything she wanted to say to him, to everyone.
“Amaris, open the door.”
Gripping the edges of the sink, she let out a frustrated grunt to keep him from hearing a scream.
Her throat ached as it ripped through her, one of anger and torment, one coming from the burning within.
The reflection she saw in the mirror was of a coward.
A woman afraid of herself and her life. A woman who had allowed everything to spiral into a pit of darkness.
She punched the image glaring back at her.
Pulsing pain surged through her knuckles. She pulled her balled fist instantly to her chest, gaping at the shards of the mirror embedded in her skin and the bones along her hand shooting with pain. What’s wrong with me?
The door rattled. “Amaris, what’s going on in there?”
“Nothing,” she shouted back.
“Open the door!”
She tore through the mangled mirror cabinet, but there was nothing. No rubbing alcohol or hydrogen peroxide, not even a fucking bandage. Some paramedic she was. The blood oozed from her cuts, dripping into the porcelain sink. She tried wiggling her fingers, but each movement was excruciating.
Glimpsing at the jagged reflection, she didn’t recognize the woman staring back at her.
Her hair fell from its bun, the chocolate waves draping past her shoulders to the middle of her back.
She ran her good fingers through it, trying to untangle the knots that had formed throughout the day.
It was all she could do, untangle the mess of her life one strand at a time.
When she’d been younger, the top had shone with a golden tint from the constant rays of sunshine on the beach, and the waves would curl from the salt of the water.
She wished she could go back, to have her parents there to tell her what to do.
But she couldn’t, and now her hair remained its natural dark tint, and the loose waves hung limp.
She pulled her phone out and shot a text to Viv as the key turned in the lock. The door burst open, and the glass crunched under Derek’s shoes.
“What is this?”
Amaris pushed past him, but Derek grabbed her arm.
“Are you fucking crazy?”
“I’m not crazy.” She yanked her arm away.
“Normal people don’t go around smashing mirrors when they’re upset.”
Flinching, she rallied whatever bravery she had, grabbed her duffel bag and work boots from the hall, and shuffled into the bedroom. She couldn’t do it. She needed a moment to breathe.
“Amaris, I’m talking to you.”
She pretended to ignore him as she fought back the tears. Viv would be there in minutes. She stuffed as much as she could into her duffel.
“What are you doing?”
“Packing,” she mumbled. “I’m staying at Viv’s tonight.”
“The hell you are,” he shot at her, nabbing the strap of her duffel.
“Yes. I. Am,” she seethed, ripping it from his hand.
“You’re not going.” His gray eyes darkened as his jaw clenched.
“You can’t tell me what to do.” She kneeled between the bed and the wall, rummaging through the drawer underneath.
She needed to breathe. Viv’s apartment was just down the block, but Derek stood between Amaris and the door with his chest puffed out and his hands gripped into fists.
She slid her work boots on. “I can’t do this right now. ”
“No, we’re going to talk about this, because I’m tired of this hero complex you’ve built.”
“Hero complex? Do you hear yourself?” she snapped. “What if someone pulled a gun on you at work? Wouldn’t you take that bullet, do what you signed up for?”
“Amaris, it’s different, and you know it.” His teeth ground together as he took a step closer, guarding both the window and door as he pressed her into the corner.
“No, Derek, it’s not! We both could be killed. Why does it only matter when it comes to me?”
“Because I can’t lose you. What would happen if you died?”
“If I died, you’d all move on without me. The world would keep spinning.”
“Are you trying to get yourself killed? Am I not enough for you? Have I not done enough to show you I love you? I work my ass off to put a roof over our heads. I bake you breakfast. I clean up after you.”
His insults roared through her mind, igniting a fire to spark within her. “You forgot, Derek!” she shouted, her duffel dropping to the floor. “Yesterday marked seventeen years since my parents died. You know I need you then.”
He hesitated, and for a moment, she believed the shadows painting his features would lift, but he was consumed by the scotch. “Yeah, seventeen years. Don’t you think you should be past this by now?”
“I’m spending the night at Viv’s.”
I can’t believe he said that. Her mind and body were numb. She moved to step past him, but he grabbed her by the arm, his fingernails digging into her skin.
“Let me go,” she snapped, trying to grab his wrist, but her right hand was useless.
“You’re not going anywhere. You’re not running out on us. You don’t get to do that.”
“I’m not running out on us,” she shot back.
His grip tightened, and a whimper slipped through. Fear swelled, begging her to bend and cower.
“Looks like you are to me, running to that bitch’s house.”
She stared him dead in the eyes. She allowed the tears to fall, no longer caring if they made her look weak. “Never speak about Viv like that ever again.”