Can't Slow Down (9 page)

I can’t believe the words that have just come out of my mouth, but the mere thought of any other man ever being inside Lexi makes me want to put my fist through the wall. Judging by her reaction just now, I’m almost sure she feels the same way, but I think we’re both too afraid to say the words so early in our relationship. I mean, it can’t
actually
be love this soon, can it?

AFTER OUR BREAKFAST
of Belgian waffles with fresh berries and whipped cream, I quickly showered and we hopped in the car to head to Aunt Sarah’s. Lexi hasn’t said much the entire way, but it’s only about a fifteen- or twenty-minute drive. She’s been busy answering Brea’s text messages the whole time.

Man, that chick likes to talk.

“Brea says that you can’t hog me all to yourself for forever.” Lexi laughs as I turn down Aunt Sarah’s street.

“Tell her that you—” I pause and my smile fades as I pull into the driveway. The car of the surprise guest we are supposed to be meeting is already here. It looks strangely familiar, but I can’t quite place it. Lexi still has her head down and her eyes focused on her phone.

“Tell her you will text her back later.”

Lexi finishes texting Brea and slips her phone into her bag. The moment I turn the car off she looks up and her grin suddenly fades. Her face turns white and for a moment I think she’s going to be sick. She grips the door handle and locks the doors.

“What the fuck is he doing here? Is this some kind of sick fucking joke, Coen? Take me home,” she shouts.

That’s when it hits me. I should know that fucking tool’s car anywhere. I’ve been so wrapped up in Lexi that I’d forgotten.

“Lex, I’m just as fucking surprised by this shit as you are. Give me a sec—” My phone rings. It’s Derek.

“Dude, dickhead’s watchdog just texted me the address of where he is today.”

“Too late, D. I know exactly where he is. I’m going to find out what in the actual fuck is going on. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Shit. Call me if you need backup, man. Is Lexi with you?”

“Yeah, I got her. Thanks, man.”

I slide my phone back in my pocket and look over at Lexi. She’s gone from looking like she saw a ghost to looking like she wants to rip someone’s throat out.

“This is some fucked up shit, Coen. Why is he here? Do you think your aunt is okay? We should get in there and check on her.”

I shut the car off and run my hand through my hair with a deep breath.

“Maybe you should wait in the car.”

“No way, Coen. I owe him a piece of my fucking mind,” Lexi argues.

“Fucking damn it, Lex!” I shout, slamming my hands against the steering wheel.

Her jaw drops in shock.

“Don’t you dare shout at me,” she yells back.

I look toward the house and see Aunt Sarah standing at the front door with her hands on her hips. She’s smiling and waving for us to come in. I haven’t seen that woman smile in years. Something seriously messed up is going on here.

“I’m sorry, Lex. I just don’t want anything to happen to you again.” My voice is quieter this time. “Stay close to me. This won’t take long.”

She nods in agreement and with her gripping my hand tight, we head inside.

I
HAVE A DEATH
grip on Coen’s hand, though I’m not sure if it’s because I’m scared, nervous, pissed off, or all of the above. It’s most likely the latter. The slight nerves I had about meeting his aunt are now overpowered by anger, anxiety, and wondering why Patrick’s car is here. Did he come here looking for me? How did he know we would be here? We’re just about to approach his aunt at the door when it dawns on me. Patrick must be the person she wanted Coen to meet. But why?

I squeeze Coen a little tighter and he brushes his thumb against the back of my hand to try to comfort me as we make our way up the porch steps.

“Hello, Coen dear.” She smiles, not seeming as horrible as I expected her to be. “And Lexi, is it? It’s nice to meet you.” She extends her hand to greet me.

Before she even stops shaking my hand Coen pulls me closer to him.

“Coen!” his aunt and I say in unison.

“Where is he and what the hell is he doing here?” he grits through his teeth.

Sarah’s brow furrows and she tilts her head, looking at Coen like he’s completely insane.

“That’s no attitude to have to meet your long-lost cousin, now is it?”

My jaw drops and Coen’s eyes about bug out of his head as we carefully follow her inside. Sitting there on the couch is Patrick. He jumps to his feet right away; his cold, gray eyes feel like they are burning a hole right through me. The expression on his face is eerily similar to that of the Joker’s: a huge fake smile hiding pure evil.

“Have you completely lost your fucking mind?” Coen bellows.

“Watch your language in my house,” Sarah orders. “This is Patrick, my son.”

“Your son? YOUR SON?” Coen lets go of my hand and paces the floor a few times before stopping in front of his aunt and running his hands through his hair. “Please explain to me how this useless, fucked up, piece-of-shit, sorry excuse for a man is your son.”

I cross my arms and back myself up against the wall closest to the door in case I need to make a quick escape. The tension in this room is palpable. Patrick doesn’t dare move from the spot he’s standing in. I’m willing to bet he knows that if he so much as breathes too close to me Coen will rip his throat out.

Sarah takes a step toward Coen and he sticks his hand out for her to not get any closer. He’s pissed off and confused. She walks over closer to Patrick and places her arm around his shoulder.

“When I was fifteen, I was madly in love with a boy who was about to head off to college. At least, I thought it was love at the time. Anyways, to make a long story short, I became pregnant. Since he was leaving for medical school, and I was so young, I decided it was best to put the baby up for adoption. That baby was Patrick, Coen. I’ve been in touch with the adoption agency over the last few months. Last week they called and said they had found him, he lived close by, and was interested in meeting me, too. I don’t understand why this is upsetting you so much. Do you two know each other already?” She looks back and forth between Coen and Patrick waiting for one of them to answer.

“Yeah,
Coen,
what’s wrong?” Patrick taunts with a Cheshire grin.

Coen closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He’s cracking his knuckles and stretching his neck from side to side. When he opens his eyes he looks over at me and subtly shakes his head while clinching his fists at his sides. He’s trying so hard to not fly off the handle right now. He grits his teeth and looks Patrick straight in the eyes.

“Why don’t you tell her how fucking special her new son is,
Patrick?
” he says, pointing at his eye that is still slightly bruised.

Sarah huffs, “You can’t possibly be serious, Coen. Patrick wouldn’t hurt a soul. Would you, Patrick?”

I see he’s already pulled the wool over her eyes.

Just you wait, lady, the real asshole will show himself soon enough, I’m sure.

“He’s my ex-boyfriend,” I pipe up from my safe spot near the door.

“I’m dead fucking serious, and
this,
” he says and points to his eye again, “isn’t even half as bad as what this loser has put Lexi through.”

He turns to me and starts to walk towards the door.

“Come on, Lexi, let’s get out of here.”

“Coen, stop right there,” Sarah insists. “I demand an explanation right now. You are being extremely disrespectful and rude in my home and I won’t stand for it.”

“Me?
I’m
disrespectful?
I’m
rude?” he scoffs. “Your perfect son here gets his fucking rocks off on belittling women to make himself feel better about his pathetic little life. But that’s not all—his most recent favorite thing to do is kidnap them on their way home from work, tie them up and gag them in a cold, damp, abandoned warehouse and smack them around, all while being drunk off his ass. Yeah, real fucking prize son you have there, Aunt Sarah.”

Patrick is laughing like he’s gone completely mental.

“Don’t you know, Coen? Your slutty little girlfriend here
likes
being tied up and told what to do.”

I suddenly feel nauseous. Just as I’m about to bolt out the door, Coen turns around, grabs Patrick by the throat, and slams him into the wall. The sound of glass breaking fills the room as a few picture frames and knickknacks come crashing down. Sarah and I both shout Coen’s name in sync, but he ignores us. His face is so close to Patrick’s that their noses are almost touching. Patrick sneers, still pinned to the wall by Coen’s tightening grip on his throat. He could easily snap his neck right now if he wanted to.

“Coen! Let him go this instant!” Sarah shrieks.

He doesn’t flinch. I can see his shoulders rise and fall from his heavy breathing across the room. I’m surprised he hasn’t put his fist through Patrick’s face yet.

“Lexi, go start the car.” Coen snaps his head around to look at me. His green eyes are now cold and hard and the prominent vein in his arm is pulsing. He’s angry and I’m scared, but I don’t want to leave him in here alone. I feel like I’m frozen in time and everything around me is moving in slow motion, but there’s nothing I can do to fix this. Any of it. “NOW,” he demands, nostrils flaring.

“Don’t do anything stu—”

“Damn it, Lex, PLEASE. GO. NOW.” He tosses me the keys to his Hellcat.

As the door is closing behind me, I hear what I’m pretty sure are Coen’s knuckles cracking against Patrick’s face and more shouting from all three of them. I run out to that beautiful blue beast, hop into the passenger seat, and start the car. The engine roars to life and vibrates through my entire body. I roll the windows down and start to sift through my bag to find my phone when the car door is jerked open. Coen starts to slide in beside me. He’s holding his left hand close to his chest and his mouth is bloody.

“You drive,” he pants.

“Coen, I—”

Sarah runs out onto the porch and yells at the top of her lungs.

“You aren’t welcome here anymore. I want nothing to do with you. I never wanted anything to do with you. It’s your fault my sister is dead! They couldn’t wait until morning to see their precious, pathetic little boy. If they had just gone home and picked you up the next morning like they had originally planned, they would still be here and my life wouldn’t have been ruined having to raise you. I did it for her, Coen. I never gave a shit about you.”

“Don’t worry,” Coen shouts back. “I never gave a shit about you either. Don’t come crying to me when your
son
shows you his true colors.”

“Get off of my property. I don’t ever want to see you again.”

“Lex, I can’t drive right now,” he says, shrugging the shoulder above his injured hand. “I’ve seen you drive, you can handle her, now just go.” He bumps me with his hip to nudge me into the driver’s seat.

I quickly adjust the seat, fasten my seatbelt, and reverse out onto the main highway. The tires squeal and I throw it into drive and floor it the hell out of there. I’m not waiting around or taking the chance of Patrick or Sarah calling the cops. My hands are shaking and my heart feels like it’s about to beat out of my chest as I dodge traffic and run red lights.

“Fuck!” Coen throws his head back against the seat as I try to keep my eyes on the road.

“Holy shit!” I swerve, dodging a large pickup truck that pulled out in front us. “Where are we going, Coen? I need a destination here.” I make a sharp right turn followed by a quick left.

“Go to Derek’s. I’ll text him to have the garage door open and ready so you can pull the Hellcat in.”

Thank God we’re only about five blocks away. My palms are sweating and my knees are shaking.

“You got her, sweet cheeks. We’re almost there.” Coen’s phone chimes. “Derek’s ready for us.” Perfect timing, too, as I squelch the tires around the last corner.

Derek is standing outside waiting as I ease the Hellcat into his garage and he immediately hits the closer button.

I throw the car in park and slump into the seat. Coen reaches over and pats my leg with his good hand.