Jersey Girl (Sticks & Hearts #1) (33 page)

Normally, I'm not a violent person, being non-confrontational and all. But there are times when I'm willing to make an exception. For two years, I allowed Justin to control me, mentally and physically. Though most of the beatings I took were of a verbal nature, there were several occasions when Justin's temper would get the better of him and he would yank me by the arm, like today. There were even times when he would get mad and initiate sex just so he could hit me and later claim it was because he'd been caught up in the moment. But I knew better, and the bruises on my ass and legs would take weeks to fade.

So, when Scotty responds to my admission of Justin's little secret by beating the shit out of him, I don't so much as flinch. Bastard had it coming. Every punch he absorbs is a silent victory for not only me, but also for Brantley. He too had been an unsuspecting victim of Justin's twisted jealousy. And when Justin rolls over and cries like a baby, his sobs are sweet music to my ears.

***

My fingers skim the smooth finish of the baby grand that sits proudly in the center of the room, making it the focal point of the music studio dad built for me as a surprise for my sixteenth birthday. My thumb settles on middle C, and I finger out a scale. One key at a time. The last time I was in this room, Brantley had been with me. It was Thanksgiving evening, after we'd left the Mendoza's party. I'd brought him back here and we made love on this very piano bench.

My hand runs over the hot pink material. My mother's contribution to the room. She's all too familiar with my obsession of all things pink. Now, this cushion holds a lot more sentimental value.

That night when we kissed, things had felt different between us. I can't explain it except to say nothing felt rushed. Gone was the urgency to tear each other's clothes off and get busy. We kissed slowly. We explored each other with our hands. And when he finally claimed me he did it at a painstakingly slow pace that left every part of my body doing its own victory dance.

Through no direction of my own, my fingers find their place on the keys, and soon I'm playing the first song I ever played for him. The one I sang on his bedroom floor when he'd almost kissed me. I don't even realize I'm singing until I'm on the second chorus and tears are streaming down my face.

Come back to me, I'm begging you darlin'

Come back to me, I'll believe in you this time.

The bed's too big without you, don't leave me alone tonight.

Come back to me, I'll make everything alright.

Come back to me, I'll make everything alright.

"You have a beautiful voice," Scott says quietly, trying not to startle me. "Have I ever told you that?"

He makes his way into the room, stops at the end of the piano, and watches me with a wary eye.

Even though he came to my rescue today, we still haven't addressed the elephant in the room. But I have a feeling we're about to.

"No. You never have."

His eyes soften, and it looks as though he may start crying. My first thought is I can't recall a time I've ever seen him cry. Then, I remember the day years ago when I'd broken my arm. Scott and his buddies had been rollerblading at the school, daring each other to perform stunts while not wearing any protective gear. As usual, I'd followed him and wanted to join in. Scott tried to make me go back home, but I'd stubbornly refused. I wanted to impress him. The first few stunts I was challenged with had been simple, and when I'd successfully completed each one, his face would light up. All was going well, until Travis Burke dared me to jump two flights of stairs then ride the railing on the last set.
Watch and learn
, I'd told him. As I skated my warm-up, Scotty had pulled me aside and told me I didn't need to go through with the stunt. I just gave him a wink and jokingly told him to have a stretcher ready, just in case. I cleared the first set of steps with ease, landing and tucking my knees back up for the second set. I'd executed the second landing perfectly, but when my wheels hit the railing, I hadn't accounted for the two-inch thick wad of gum that had been stuck to the metal. When the side of my wheels met the hardened obstacle, it caused me to flip two times in the air before I landed on the railing and rolled lifelessly to the ground.

Scotty had picked me up and run two miles, barefoot, holding me close and crying the entire way. He'd blamed himself for that break and spent the next six weeks hovering over me. He'd even put his artistic abilities to good use on my cast look to make it look as if I had a sleeve tattoo. I was only fourteen at the time. I guess in his own way he's been looking out for me ever since.

"I've been a shitty big brother." He heaves a sigh and motions to the other half of the bench. He doesn't sit until I nod my okay.

"I wouldn't say shitty. You've had your moments." I nudge him with my shoulder, and he gives me a gentle nudge back.

"Why didn't you tell me Justin was hurting you?"

"I don't know. You were already in Michigan and we'd sorta lost touch. I'd always looked up to you. It was hard for me to admit the first adult decision I'd made had been a poor one."

"God, when the hell did I turn into such a prick?" He drags one finger across the piano keys.

"You really want me to answer that?" I give him a look.

"No," he says quietly. "That song you were just playing, does it have anything to do with Cage?"

"If I say yes, will you start yelling at me again? Tell me what a horrible person he is and how he's not good enough?"

Regret fills his face when our eyes meet, but I'm not quite finished.

"Do you remember the morning when you introduced me to Brantley?" The sounds of C, D, and E ring quietly in the background as my fingers fidget over the keys. "That day you told me Brantley was the best friend you ever had. You called him loyal and said that no matter what, you knew he'd always have your back. You even said you trusted him."

"You're right. I did say those things."

"What I'm having trouble understanding is how you can say all of those wonderful things about him one minute, then turn around and spew horrible things about him the next. You stood in front of both of us and told me he wasn't good enough for me." I twist on the seat to face him, "Why would you say that?"

"It's complicated, Cass," his fingers run through his hair, leaving it sticking up in all directions.

"So, un-complicate it for me, Scotty." I fold my arms across my chest and wait.

"Well, first off, there was a bro code that he not only broke, he fucking obliterated it."

I open my mouth to reply, but all that comes out is a frustrated scream. With both my hands I give him a hard shove to the chest, knocking him back a ways on the bench.

"I'm so fucking sick of hearing about that goddamn code! It's just a stupid set of rules used to try and dictate people's actions. How dare you think you have the right to tell Brantley, or me, who we can or cannot fuck."

"Cassie, come on. Don't use that word."

"Seriously? What did you think we were doing when we spent all that time together? Frankly, I don't give a rat's ass if it makes you uncomfortable. I fucked Brantley Cage. Yeah, I said it. I fucked him and I liked it. Hell, I liked it so much I went and fell in love with him. And he fell in love with me. And everything was great until you swooped in on your proverbial high horse and fucked us both. Well, Scotty, all I can say is, no, thank you very fucking much!"

I push myself off the bench and start to leave, but I'm stopped in my tracks by a giant arm circling my waist.

"Everything spiraled out of control that night. First Ashley, then that call. I lost my head. I don't know what else to say. There were times when I suspected maybe something was going on. That night we went to the movies and he just showed up out of the blue. That day he chased you out of the house when you caught him in bed with Natasha. Then you brought him home for Thanksgiving. By the way, did mom and dad have any clue you two were dating then?"

"Maybe a small clue," I smile sheepishly. "If it makes you feel any better, we didn't sleep together until the weekend of my recital. In Brantley's defense, he tried really hard to respect your wishes."

"Oh, I'll bet he did," he scoffs.

"No, really. That first night I stayed at your apartment, I woke up to find him in bed with me. He had no idea who I was when I threw myself at him, but once he found out, he couldn't get away fast enough. He kept going on about how you were going to kill him if you found out. After that first kiss, he really didn't stand a chance. I'd already set my sights on him and was determined to make him notice me. Once we started spending time together, we both knew we'd found something special."

He reaches up to take hold of my hand and pulls me back down on the bench. I gently stroke the bruise on his jaw.

"I'm sorry I lied to you. But you once said that you trusted him more than anyone else. If you truly love me, then shouldn't he be the man you trust to take care of me? He
is
what's best for me. And you're just going to have to accept we're in love."

"I know that. But it's not easy. To me, you'll always be the little girl who looked up to me and wanted to do everything I was doing."

"I'll always look up to you. You're my big brother and I love you. And right now, I need my big brother's support." He gives my hand a small squeeze. "Scotty, I
really
love him."

"Cassie, I know deep down that Cage will never hurt you. He'll be faithful, and I know without a doubt he'd risk his life to protect you. That's the Brantley I know and love."

"Thank you for saying that. It means a lot. But I know someone who needs to hear that more than I do. Promise me you'll talk to him."

"It's a promise."

"So, just like that, you and Ashley are over? Is that really what you wanted?" Now that our grievances have been aired, I feel it's time I start showing my support. After all, it feels as if our relationship just rounded the corner into adulthood. I'm hoping this is a promise of things to come between us.

"I didn't set out that night planning to break up with her. But it was the right thing to do. We were headed in different directions. Ashley wanted to settle down and have kids within a couple of years. I'm nowhere near that stage of life. For the past two years we've practically been joined at the hip. If that's what marriage is like, I'm not ready for it. I love her, but I'm man enough to admit she deserves more."

"I'm sorry. I know how that must hurt. Two years is a huge chunk of your life. But I understand where you're coming from. You're about to embark on a whole new adventure. You don't want to be held back by someone who's forcing you to be someone you're not."

"Was that how things were with Justin? Was he a control freak as well?" He chuckles at this, but we both give a nod of understanding.

"I'm glad you're finally doing something for yourself. Hey, if you ever get lonely you know the way to South Quad. My door is always open for you."

Without warning, I'm pulled in for one of Scotty's bear hugs. The last time he gave me one was the day he left to attend Great Lakes. That fact is not lost on me, and soon I find myself crying. But not because I'm sad. These tears are falling, because for the first time in four years, I feel like I have my big brother again.

Later that night, I pull out my phone and type out a message, wishing I could be there to deliver it in person.

Merry Christmas, B. I miss you. Love, Dimples

BRANTLEY

"Are you sure you can't stay? It feels as if you've just gotten here," mom busies herself with straightening the bed, while I'm busy stuffing dirty clothes in my suitcase.

"Mom, it's been two weeks already. I really need to get back and take care of my shit." I turn and give her a kiss on the cheek.

Coming home had turned out better than I'd expected. It was nice to spend time with Chris again. For the first time in years, my status as a hockey player took a backseat and we were just two brothers hanging out and catching up.

After a long talk with my dad, I have a better understanding as to what he'd been going through before his heart attack. Business had taken a nosedive and they'd been struggling to make ends meet. He'd been worried about letting mom down. Worried he wouldn't be able to provide. He was afraid she would wake up one day and see him for the failure he saw himself to be. He assured me nothing happened with the other woman. He said he just needed to confess his fears to someone other than mom because he didn't want her to think of him as weak. She'd listened thoughtfully and without judgement. She then told him a man will look at his failures and consider himself weak. While a woman is able to see not only the failures, but the strength it takes to overcome them.

Mom continues to fuss. Rearranging items I've just packed. I head to the bathroom to collect my toothbrush and razor, and when I return I find she's dumped everything on the bed and is now in the process of refolding every item.

"What are you doing? Everything was fine the way it was." I step in front of her and gently shoo her away.

"Fine," her hands go up, "but don't blame me if you get home and all of your clothes are wrinkled." She reaches out and grabs one last shirt, unable to resist the urge to fold it properly. "What's this?"

She holds up a thin rectangular box up for me to inspect. It's wrapped in black paper and adorned in blue ribbon that's been smashed beyond repair by the contents of my suitcase. Seeing as how I wasn't the one to pack it, I can only assume it's something Davis hid when I wasn't looking. He'd been the only one home when I'd stopped by to pick up my clothes.

"No clue," I huff out a laugh, "probably something from one of the guys." My fingers work quickly, tearing at the paper with new curiosity. Tossing aside the lid, I fold back the tissue paper and reveal a comic book.

"A comic book?" Mom's nose wrinkles.

"It's not just a comic book. It's a Superman 1939 First Series collectible. This must have cost a fortune." Lifting it carefully, my eyes dart back to the box for any sign of a card.