CHAPTER 17
THEN
NICKY – Age 20
The morning sunlight streams in through the sheers of my eastern-facing windows. I squint, lifting my head before pushing up and resting back against my black leather headboard. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes with one hand, I haphazardly slap the top of my nightstand with the other until my fingers close around my cell.
Pulling the screen toward my face, I blink several times to clear my vision, taking in the numbers glaring back at me.
8:18 a.m.
Blowing out a breath and tossing it aside, I lean forward to drop my head into my hands.
This is the hardest part. Finding the strength to climb out of bed and confront the turmoil I’ve caused. My mind drifts to my baby sister tucked away upstairs, and I can’t help but wonder how many nightmares undoubtedly plagued her sleep last night. They’ve been happening steadily since the incident with no sign of easing.
I, however, think I actually got a full night’s sleep for the first time in months. While much needed, the realization that the first reprieve from night terrors was gifted to me makes me double over with guilt.
I can’t remember the last time I shut my eyes and wasn’t assaulted by the memories of my sister on the brink of death in that hospital bed four months ago—the tubes that ran into her mouth and down her throat, forcing air into her lungs as the doctor filled me in on the medical findings from her exam. As if the savage beating she’d been subjected to wasn’t enough, the evidence she’d been raped by not one, but three people was enough to slaughter any remaining slivers of my soul.
It”s all my fault. The scumbags who nabbed her did so over some years-old vendetta against me. They wanted to hurt me. And because she’s the thing I love most in this world, they took aim where they knew it would do the most damage.
I had them chained in my warehouse within hours, subjected to unspeakable tortures. And though their bodies, along with the secrets of that night, have been buried deeper than anyone can dig, the trauma she endured still haunts her.
Every day I try my hardest to bring her back to me, but I see the light inside her dying. She’s supposed to start her junior year of high school in less than two weeks, but most days I can barely convince her to climb out of bed.
How do I save my sister when the things that are harming her live within her mind? How do I fight ghosts?
My phone chimes, and my eyes are drawn to a text from my father that flashes across my screen. Our parents don’t know the truth of what happened. I paid the chief of police a fucking arm and a leg to conceal the attack. Not to mention, threatened half the doctors. After I had Tommy wreck the car, it was relatively easy to pass off the entire thing as a bad accident. The kind she was lucky to survive.
POPS: HEY. LEFT WITH MOM TO CHECK ON THINGS AT THE SHOP.
ME: KK. I’LL GO GET J UP IN A BIT.
They’ve started to become worried over her increasing withdrawal as well, though they attribute it to anxiety she’s supposedly developed from the accident. As a result, he and Ma have been neglecting a lot of the business aspects to stay home with her, especially since I’ve been gone pretty much every weekend since May for the Pro Motocross Series. However, I took home the championship last weekend, which now frees up my entire schedule for the next four months.
I tried to say fuck it and skip the season altogether, but J wouldn’t allow it. Even with all the shit she’s been through, she still accompanied our parents to Indiana to watch me take gold. One more example of my sister putting my undeserving needs above her own.
POPS: SHE’S ALREADY UP.
ME: WHAT?!
POPS: YUP :) HER AND DAPHNE WERE UP MAKING PANCAKES WHEN WE LEFT TEN MINUTES AGO.
ME: YOU’RE SHITTING ME.
POPS: GO SEE FOR YOURSELF.
POPS: I GOT A GOOD FEELING ABOUT TODAY, NICK. BETTER DAYS ARE ON THE HORIZON.
I’m tossing the covers back from my body and scrambling for the door so fast, I don’t even bother to grab a shirt before making my way into the hall. My sweats start to drop in my haste, slipping down to expose the top band of my boxer briefs. Gripping hold of the waist, I fumble for the drawstring before locating the tie and double knotting it. My appetite’s been shit these last few months, hence the weight loss I’ve been experiencing.
My bedroom’s on the first floor of the house, at the end opposite the kitchen. As I exit the hallway that opens into the master living space, the melody that was faintly recognizable when I first opened my door is now amplified from the optimal acoustics provided by the high ceilings above me.
Taylor Swift blasts in full surround from the kitchen—Daph’s doing, no doubt—and while I’m not particularly inclined to start belting out lyrics, it’s a welcomed sound considering it reminds me of my late mother. This particular song wasn’t released until after she passed, but she undoubtedly would have loved it just like the others.
Wonderland (Taylor’s Version) by Taylor Swift (Spotify)
Wonderland (Taylor’s Version) by Taylor Swift (Apple Music)
I approach the giant archway that frames the entrance to the kitchen. Peeking around the corner, I take in the unexpected sight.
Daphne stands before my sister, spatula in hand, singing into it as though it were a microphone. J’s several feet in front of her with her back to me, but when she turns her head to the side, the smile plastered across her face is clear as day. It’s the first time I’ve seen her genuinely smile in months. She shakes her head, waving off her best friend’s antics, but Daph doesn’t allow it.
Gripping J’s hand, Daph begins dancing in front of her. The messy bun atop her head bops along as she animatedly serenades my sister. The chorus is just about to hit when Daphne thrusts the spatula into her face. J momentarily hesitates, but then reaches for the plastic handle. My breath seizes in my lungs, watching as my sister starts belting out the lyrics while Daph thrusts her arms up victoriously and continues to bounce around the kitchen.
She swipes the whisk from the countertop, pointing at my sister as they now sing into their respective makeshift microphones in unison. I stand mesmerized as they dance around the large marble island with reckless abandonment, completely oblivious to my presence.
Daph launches a handful of dry pancake mix at Jonsie, who howls in laughter in response, and the sound is so fucking glorious I could weep. The air rushes from my lungs, and for the first time in months, it feels as though I can actually breathe. Wetness pools at the corners of my eyes, a sudden rush of emotions overwhelming me. I swipe at my face, determined to hold my shit together.
My gaze slowly shifts, moving from my sister to the free spirit she calls her best friend—the seventeen-year-old wild child who just cracked through a wall one of the top psychiatrists in the country has been chipping away at for months with almost no progress. I stare at her in complete awe, taking in her messy top knot, batter-stained sports bra, and oversized sweats, and my heart beats a little faster at how fucking gorgeous she is.
Daphne Burke is undeniably beautiful. There ain’t a straight man on this planet that would argue me on that. But if she opened up her heart to others the way she does for my sister—if anyone else caught a glimpse of the love she holds inside her—she’d have every man in Queen City at her doorstep on their knees begging for a shot. I fight back a possessive growl at the thought.
And not a single one of them would be anything close to worthy of her.
Completely lost to the lyrics, Daph and my sister spin off toward opposite corners of the room, with Daph facing me. She quickly bounds toward me, closing the remaining space between us and gripping my hands in excitement.
“Do you see?!” Her elated whispers rush from her mouth. “She’s smiling! We did it!”
Like a man possessed, my hand sweeps up to cup her cheek, tilting her head back to look up at me. Stroking her face with my thumb, I stare down at her reverently like she’s the most precious thing I’ve ever held.
“We didn’t do shit, Daph. You did this.” Squeezing my eyes shut, I press my forehead to hers. “You did it.”
An insatiable urge to press my lips to hers threatens to overtake me. I open my eyes, hoping the sight of her familiar face will dampen the fantasy currently playing out in my mind. It doesn’t, the real deal serving to only fuel my desires.
My eyes flicker down to her mouth, my head dipping a fraction of a centimeter before she steps back and I feel a twinge of disappointment. Taking my hands in hers once more, she offers me a warm smile.
“She did it, Nicky. She’s still in there. And though it may take a little time, she’s already starting to come back to us.”
I smile back at her, interlacing our fingers and tightening my hold. The urge to kiss her hasn’t subsided, and I find myself desperately hoping she misread my intent a moment ago and didn’t actually reject me. I’m just about to test my luck one more time when a cloud of dry pancake mix descends upon us.
I glance up to find J beckoning us to her with her index finger just as she belts out the height of the final chorus. I laugh, bending down to scoop Daph up and over my shoulder. She shrieks as I begin jumping around the kitchen, dancing beside my sister.
Daphne slaps at my ass, demanding me to release her. With a hearty chuckle, I drop her into my arms before allowing her feet to find the floor. She rushes to Jonsie, laughing as they bounce around to the final few beats of the song. Dropping my forearms to the counter, I watch them as a peaceful balance seems to be restored to the house.
Daph spins, her eyes briefly connecting with mine, and I’m suddenly overcome with a sense of relief that I don’t know what her lips feel like pressed against me.
Because I don’t know how, even in the midst of my temporary insanity, I ever thought I’d be able to focus on anything else after experiencing such a thing.