Chapter 5 Scarlett #3
“I got scared.” I gave him a sad smile. “We’d been sneaking clothes and stuff from our room for weeks.
Jeremiah kept them at his place since we lived in the same neighborhood.
The only place Dad would let us go was the library but Presley used one of their computers to line up a job here at the garage.
She’d found a place to stay. All she could talk about was her new life.
Over and over and over. She never stopped.
And I . . . wasn’t prepared. I wasn’t ready. Then it came time to leave and . . .”
I closed my eyes, the darkness from that night wrapping around me like cold tendrils of smoke, dragging me into a night I’d replayed more times than I could remember.
“The air was so still that night. It was too thin, like I couldn’t breathe in enough air to fill my lungs and I was dizzy.
Every step I took away from our house I felt like I was stretching a string.
Pulling it tighter and tighter. And it kept towing me backward.
Like my father had a hand on the other end and he was letting me go just far enough to yank me back before delivering a punishment so severe it would become the ruler against which I measured all future discretions. ”
My throat went dry so I lifted my water glass, except my hand was shaky and it sloshed over the rim.
“Come on.” Luke stood, collecting his plate and mine. Then he walked into the living room, taking a seat on the couch.
I followed, glad to get away from the dining room. In my mind, I knew it was different. Luke wasn’t my dad and there was nothing to fear from a table and six chairs. Someday I’d conquer that irrational fear. Today was not that day.
Luke gave me time to settle into the chair across from him and catch my breath. He dove into the pasta and didn’t say a word. No questions. No pressure. If I wanted to talk, it was my choice.
For a woman who’d just told him how little was in her control, it meant the world that he’d listened.
I tucked my legs into the chair’s seat, the plate balanced between my knees. “Presley always tested the boundaries. She’d do things to see if she’d get caught. She was fearless.”
The corner of his mouth turned up as he chewed. “Sounds like her.”
“I wasn’t like that. I didn’t need to test the limits because I didn’t like what happened when I was caught.
Or when she got caught. I was the one to take care of her.
I was the one to wrap her ribs when he cracked one.
I was the one who raced for the ice pack when Mom got a bloody nose or black eye.
Presley got mad at Mom, resented her. I just .
. . I just wanted everyone to live and see tomorrow. ”
Luke set his nearly empty plate aside on the coffee table. “You didn’t rock the boat.”
“Why would I? We were sitting in a life raft in the middle of the ocean while a hurricane raged around us.”
“So you stayed.”
“I stayed.” What I wouldn’t give to go back and redo that night. “We snuck out. Mom and Dad weren’t asleep but there were noises and they were . . . occupied.”
No matter how many years that passed, I’d never forget the sound of my father raping my mother. The slaps. The grunts. I’d been terrified to have sex with Jeremiah in high school because I’d been so sure it would hurt.
It had, but in the way that awkward teenagers lost their virginity. Then later, at the clubhouse, it had been cold. Distant. Sex was overrated. I couldn’t even blame it on Jeremiah. The one who’d changed most in the years we were apart was me.
“We ran in the dark to meet Jeremiah,” I told Luke. “Presley was so excited. She was so sure. She laughed and smiled. I took one look at that car and the string just yanked. If he caught us, we were dead. So I lost it.”
Neither of them could calm me down. I’d been hysterical, crying and trying to tell Presley that it was wrong. That we’d be caught. My entire body had been shaking. I’d tried to tear her bags out of the car, to drag her home, but she wasn’t going back to that house.
“I screamed,” I said. “I told Presley I wasn’t leaving. I didn’t think she’d go without me, but she got behind the wheel of that old, shitty car, and drove away. She left me on the street.”
“And Jeremiah went with her.”
“No.” I shook my head. “He stayed. For me.”
“What did your father do to you?”
“Exactly what would hurt me the most. He almost killed my mother.”
Luke closed his eyes, shaking his head. His shoulders were stiff. His hands fisted. I had the sneaking suspicion he was imagining strangling my dad. “I’m sorry.”
“Part of me is glad I was there to care for her. So she didn’t lose both her daughters.”
Luke rubbed his jaw. If he disagreed, he kept it to himself. “So Presley came to Montana. Jeremiah stayed with you. But then he came here to find her and they got engaged.”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “We broke up in Chicago. He was angry at me for not leaving. He said he didn’t want to watch as I became my mother or wait for my father to marry me off to some other man.
We argued a lot. I promised I’d tell my parents about him soon, but there was never a good time.
And I think . . . I think he resented being a secret.
A secret I needed to keep, to control. Because Dad would have hated him.
Or maybe not, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.
We broke up, and Jeremiah came to Montana and found Presley. They got engaged.”
“Were you angry with her?”
“Yes,” I admitted. “He’d always been mine. My one thing, and she took him from me. Looking back, I think I was mostly just angry because she’d had the courage I hadn’t to break the tie.”
“What made you finally decide to leave?”
“My mom. Presley texted me that she was marrying Jeremiah on June first. I showed Mom and she got this look on her face. In all my life, I’d never seen her so sad. Not even after Presley left.” Granted, she’d been bedridden for almost a month thanks to Dad’s punishment.
A lot had changed after Presley had left. Mom had grown more reflective. And the rebellious streak Presley had always carried had slowly crept into me.
So when my mother had told me to go, I’d been ready.
“Mom didn’t realize Pres was marrying my ex-boyfriend.
She didn’t know how much it hurt me to read that text.
I was crushed. Angry. But I needed that anger.
And I needed Mom to tell me it was okay to leave her behind.
She gave me a roll of cash she’d been hiding from Dad and told me to use the bathroom during church the following Sunday and never come back. ”
“Have you spoken to her since?” Luke asked.
“No.” I was afraid to tell her what a mess I’d made. And I was afraid to call the house and find out Dad had finally killed her.
Mom had given me the freedom and encouragement to run. To start a new life. There was no doubt she’d paid dearly for her actions. And that payment had been made in vain.
Because I’d run to the wrong damn place.
“I hopped on a bus to Montana. I found Jeremiah in Ashton. And he stood Presley up for their wedding, because I’m the worst sister in the world.”
Luke didn’t argue. It was a point in his favor because if he’d tried to tell me otherwise, I would have known he was lying.
“And you know the rest,” I said.
“Do I?”
No, he didn’t. But the rest was mine and mine alone.
I picked up my fork, ending the conversation by diving into my cold meal. When my plate was empty, I took it to the kitchen and put it in the dishwasher.
Luke came into the kitchen behind me with his own plate and put it away as I dealt with the leftovers.
Then, like I did most nights, I retreated from the kitchen toward my bedroom.
“Scarlett.” Luke stopped me before I made it past the living room. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I shrugged. “I like to cook.”
“No, not for the food. For confiding in me. For trusting me.”
“Oh.” I guess I had trusted him, hadn’t I? He could have learned as much from Presley, but in a way, I was proud of myself for telling my story. Telling it my way. “Good night, Luke.”
“Good night, Scarlett.”
I turned and walked toward the hallway, but then stopped at the base of the stairs. Shit. His room. “Um, Luke?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t be mad.”
“For what?”
I fought a smile. “You’ll see.”
Luke cast me a strange glance before I disappeared into my room and closed the door. Then I sat on the edge of my bed and waited.
It didn’t take long for his footsteps to echo upstairs. And it didn’t take long for a muted “What the fuck?” to come through the ceiling.
I slapped a hand over my mouth so he wouldn’t hear me laugh.
Not thirty seconds later he knocked on my door.
“Yes?”
He pushed the door open but didn’t cross the threshold. He also didn’t speak. He just arched an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his broad chest.
“What?” I feigned innocence. “Now the room has a better flow.”