Chapter 2 #4
One second I was sucking face with Cypress Tree of all beings, feeling like I might catch fire if I didn’t chase this feeling, the next he was yanked off of me, plucked right up, unsuction-cupping our faces, leaving me gaping, gasping, wondering what the hell was wrong with me that I’d lost myself so completely I’d forgotten where I was, what I was doing, and who I was doing it with.
The snarl that Cy lets loose as he stumbled backwards was inhuman. I’ve never heard a human being make a noise like that. It was more akin to a muted roar of a large jungle cat.
Without missing a bit, Cy rushed right back to me, cupped my face, and planted another whopper of a kiss on me, but then pulled back quickly. “No move,” he grumbled at me. Holding up a thick finger, he motioned for me to wait.
Stupified into silence, I stood there watching as Cy turned to confront Elm but Elm rushed him. Birch, hot on his older brothers’ heels, rushed up but stopped just short of jumping into the fray.
Elm grabbed Cy by the front of what I knew good and well was one of Cy’s favorite band shirts.
That thing was so worn and lightened from repeated washings it was impressive I could still make out Ride and Lightning across his chest. Cy also had a coveted George Strait shirt he thought no one knew about and frequently wore under his button up flannels.
Well, he used to. I had to keep correcting myself— used to.
It was a bit of a sobering moment. I didn’t really know them at all anymore— I just felt like I did.
A little metal, a bit of country, rock, a whole lotta hidden love for pop bands— the enigma that was the Cypress Tree I knew growing up.
Cy snarled and grabbed at Elm’s wrists, then began snapping at him to release him.
Elm did, reluctantly, but not before glancing at me over Cy’s shoulder. The look my ex bestie gave me made me want to duck and hide. It was a warning but I wasn’t sure what for— not to move, to get the hell out of here, how dare you kiss my brother.
Regardless of what he meant, that was my cue to exit if there ever was one. Yet I remained stuck, frozen in place.
Whatever the guys were discussing, heatedly arguing over, they kept their voices low. Elm’s gaze held and kept mine. Green eyes swirling with emotions held me captive. What the hell am I supposed to do? Go? Stay? Run?
If I didn’t know better I’d say they were growl-rumble-speaking at each other, but that was just silly.
Growl-speaking wasn’t a thing. It was most likely an interpreting tone thing.
Birch joined whatever the hell was going on a few feet away from me, using that same weird growl-speaking like his brothers, dragging Elm’s attention from me.
No longer locked in his gaze, turning to sneak off, I heard a tell-tale crinkle and paused. One glance down at my inner coat pocket and I felt like doing a bit of snarling myself.
About to march over to Cy and give him a piece of my mind, Birch shot in front of me, seeing me coming, effectively blocking my way. Elm may take the lead in tallest of this brood but the Tree men were all bruisers in each their own right.
What Birch lacked in height, he made up for in sheer breadth. His wide shoulders were the first thing you noticed about him. It was kinda hard not to.
“Your brother is a lying, kiss-distracting, flocked toad and I’m about to give him a piece of my mind.
You really want to jump in the middle of this, Britches?
” I barked, ready to march over to Cypress and slap the envelope he’d slipped inside my coat, distracting me by planting one on me to manage the feat, right into his cowlick overrun, fat head.
How that equaled lying to me was a bit fuzzy, but it felt like a betrayal. Deceit. That’s what it was.
That no good- Kiss stealin’- Of all the- Damn him. Humiliation pinched at me. He’d only been kissing me so he could trick me and here I’d been all goopy puddled at his feet over it. God, I felt so stupid. Used. I’d kissed him back!
Cheeks pinkening as Birch gave me a look that said if I really wanted to try and get past him I could surely give it a go, I made to push past him and found myself blocked by a plaid flannel-ed boulder.
“Move,” I growled. I was in no mood to play games right now.
Birch’s lips tipped in amusement at my response. I was a frustrations induced growler and tensions were high. So sue me. It wasn’t funny.
Catching Cypress and Elm pausing their heated argument to turn their nosy faces our way long enough to spy our bickering from the corner of my eye, I thought turnabout was fair play.
“Fine. I can play dirty, too,” I muttered. Grabbing the sides of the black and white, Beetlejuice looking flannel Birch had mashed his massive arms into, my hands falling about waist length on him, I leaned in as if I meant to go for it and smack one to Birch’s kisser.
Birch caught on quick. Instead of jerking back, ducking, any of the things I’d expected, he froze, lips parting, eyes bugging so wide they looked about to pop right out of his shocked mug, and a soft gurgling noise garbled from his thick lips.
Elm let out a garbled sputtering sound as I made as if I meant to make my move. Cypress barked something unintelligible, the closest to actual words any of the three of them had managed in the moment.
My lips lightly pressed to the end of Birch’s little snub tipped nose. He blinked, then blinked again, before letting out a soft, surprised— dare I say it, a relieved sounding— grunt.
Tucking the envelope into the front pocket of his flannel, I laughed, a gotcha grin on my face, gave his chest a there-there pat, and whirled around to run to my car.
Birch was still standing there, blinking stupidly, as I hurried to hop in, lock my doors, pull out, and take off.
Spying Elm and Cypress rushing Birch, I laughed out loud, the sound muffled through the music blaring through my car the second I’d turned the ignition over.
Cypress got one look at what was in Birch’s pocket, snatched it up to peek inside, and turned towards me as I made my escape to bare his teeth at my retreating vehicle.
His snarl echoed in the trees just beyond the lot and then some.
It sent a shiver down my spine and then came that warm, fluttery feeling in my stomach much like his kiss had produced.
It shouldn’t. That was kinda weird, wasn’t it?
It’s just the thrill of the moment, I told myself. A sick sort of thrill.
Elm’s laughter was loud, enough so to be heard over “Pork and Beans” blaring from my car.
“Not funny!” Cypress bellowed, his top officially popped. The temper on that guy. Yeesh. So easily riled and you never knew what was going to set it off. And yet I grinned.
Turning my music down as I pulled around front and out towards the street, rolling my window down enough to wave at Forest as he closed up the front of their store.
I’d swear the male smiled as he glanced in the direction of Cypress’ caterwauling and Elm and Birch’s ribbings to follow, then back my way, and waved.
“Thanks, Mr. Tree! Have a Happy Thanksgiving!”
In the rearview, I was a thousand percent sure Mr. Tree was grinning, a peek of white teeth flashing sticking out amongst all that deep, chocolatey brown beard and wild facial hair, as Elm and Cypress ran to the front as if to catch me at hearing my voice, Birch smilingly tailing them.
Cypress’ fit of pique as he cursed wildly, arms flailing in his annoyance, waving at Elm, his father, then Birch, throwing blame about everywhere, quickly faded into the distance as I hit the gas.
“Thwarted. Ha!” My face hurt, I was smiling so wide.
So much like old times… it kinda tripped me out.
Just as quickly, that pleased curve of my lips faded.
A pinch of guilt overshadowed the moment, that I shouldn’t be laughing and smiling like this, like the last year hasn’t been the worst year of my life.
Everything was just so weird.
Survivor’s guilt was worse than I could have ever imagined it would feel like, this sense of being the most epic failure in every way imaginable as the world trudged along with me, slowly consuming me.
Right in the feels. My insides have felt twisted, upside down, hollowed out, since the accident, non-stop with no respite.
The awful, gut churning questions, the what ifs, the whys and why nots, they flowed and ebbed.
This was really the first moment of peace I’d found between all of that.
I’m headed home to a reminder of all there wasn’t anymore, and all the thoughts that inevitably creep up on me.
Did they feel any pain?
Was it quick?
Were they scared?
Did they see it coming?
Why my parents?
Why not me?
Why did that driver have so much to drink?
Why did they get behind the wheel?
Why did they put every other driver on the road at risk like that?
Why did they get off so easily, killing two innocent people?
It’s murder, plain and simple. My parents were murdered by a drunk driver, and he’ll be out on the streets again in less than two years.
Why is our legal system referred to as a justice system when it’s anything but? Two years for two lives doesn’t seem just at all to me. None of it was fair. It was all shit.
Just… WHY?
There were no answers. I knew this. There was no good reason why. None of this would ever make sense. What if-ing myself to death was futile. It was killing me, all of it.
And if that wasn’t enough, the comments from people…
Screw those idiots trying to tell me everything happens for a reason. I hope they step in a huge, heaping pile of karmic dog crap, flop to their ass, and bruise their tailbone. What a shit thing to say. Just… yeah, eff that crap. It’s insensitive, is what it is.
Not everything happens for a reason! Don’t say that to a loved one after a death, ever.