Sweet Agony (Sweet Series Book 1) (15 page)

Although my sister gave me a pity-sounding reply, I didn’t really pay attention to whatever it was she said and hung up the phone.

Sticking my hand in my jeans pocket, I pulled out the one thing I carried with me at all times besides the dog tags I wore around my neck: a small, gold key that unlocked the heart necklace I had given Gin when she was sixteen. No one knew about the key’s existence except for myself, and that was just the way I wanted it. For so long, the key had symbolized the secret plans I’d had to make Ginny mine when the time was right. The problem was, the right time had never come.

After writing one too many
I’m sorry your boyfriend/husband/son died
letters and constantly seeing too much blood on hands that I considered too soiled to touch anyone as pure as my girl, the key had come to mean something different. It was a reminder of what I was fighting for: a world where my angel could live safely and happily. Boy, had I ever fucked that mission up.

Once again, the key’s meaning changed for me as I held it in my hand and ran my finger over the smooth metal. This key was going to be my proof to the girl I loved that she would always be mine as much as I was hers. It was going to be the evidence I presented next time I saw her that, in my own sappy, clichéd way, I had given her my heart years ago, and that she was the key to my everything. Now I was just left to wonder how long I would have to wait before I got to talk to my angel again.

If only I had known how long it would end up being, I might have decided not to wait.

Walking to my bedroom, I let my body fall onto my mattress without taking my eyes off the gold symbol in my hand. Over the last few months, I had been having vivid dreams of my angel. It had taken me a while to realize they were not the fantasies I’d had before, but the memories of the night at the cabin. Reliving those moments was both a nightmare and a blessing.

They were a nightmare because every time I remembered something, I gained a little more insight into just how badly I had fucked this up between us and a blessing because having those swirling, drunken memories of us was better than having nothing at all.

“Why yous haunt me, Gin? I swear I sees yous everywhere I go.”

That was the God’s honest truth. I did see Gin everywhere I went now. I saw a bit of Gin anytime I saw a couple happy, holding hands, and obviously in love. I saw her in a piece of artwork in a shop on the pier. I even pictured her in the market one day as I watched a blonde-haired woman shopping with her small daughter. Looking at that little girl had been like having a full-blown flashback of the first day I had seen Ginny all those years ago.

“I love you, Lucas.”

Her sweetly whispered words haunted me more than any nightmare from the war ever could.

That night, I now remembered telling her as we made love that my fantasies about her kept my nightmares away. What would she say if I told her losing her was my new nightmare? The worst one I’d had yet?

“Gimme all of you, sweetheart, and I’m gonna take it, but I’m also gonna give you back so much you won’t miss what I take.”

I hoped with every fiber of my being that she would give me the chance to prove I was finally able to and willing to give her everything she could take and so much more.

Ginny

“Gin? You hear what I said, girl?”

My best friend was talking, and I could hear her just fine, but that didn’t mean I wanted to listen to a word she was saying since the message was pretty unbelievable. Lucas Young was sorry, and he would be there, waiting for me, when I was ready to talk?

He had a better chance of seeing a flying unicorn than talking to me anytime soon.

That morning six months ago hadn’t just killed all of the dreams I used to have for Lucas, but my love for him, as well. It was the harshest slap in the face I had ever had, and I didn’t need another blow to know he was right; I had made a mistake by loving him.

It was time to move on.

At least, that was what my head kept telling my bruised and beaten heart.

It was saying it even louder since the man I loved, who had broken my heart for the last time, was heading off to a war zone again, and I was just now finding out because I had refused to speak to him. It made me doubt my decisions.

Should I call him? Say good-bye? Tell him to be safe?

It was tempting … to just give in a little bit and at least tell him I hoped he stayed safe while he was over there. However, Lucas Young was the type of man who, if you gave him an inch, would take a mile. If I called him to even wish him well, he would talk me into speaking to him about other things, like how I had stupidly seduced him and given him my virginity while he was drunk as a skunk. And I wanted to relive that night about as much as I wanted to bang my head against a brick wall. That meant I had to stay strong and not give in to the urge to call him and say good-bye.

Lucas Young was a warrior in every sense of the word. He would go play his real life war games, kick some enemy ass, and be the solider he had always wanted to be when he was a little boy. Then, when he came home, he would probably stop at the first bar he could find to brag to some woman about all the scars he had earned while playing GI Joe.

Well, that was what I was going to keep using to remind myself why I couldn’t call him. Though, it might take a while longer before my heart finally got the message. Until it did, I planned to stay far, far away from the man who had broken it so irreparably I wasn’t sure it would ever function again.

“Gin?” My best friend’s voice brought me out of my own head.

“Yeah, Olivia, message received.” I hesitated for a second before deciding it couldn’t hurt to ask my best friend one little thing. “Do you know where he’s headed to this time?”

“Afghanistan again. At least nine months this time, if not an entire year. We won’t know exactly where he’ll be until he gets there and sends us his contact info. Do you want me to give you that information when I get it from him?”

My head was shaking vehemently, though Olivia couldn’t see me over the phone. “No, no, no. Don’t need it, don’t want it.”

“You sure about that?” Olivia asked quietly.

“Absolutely,” I told her in a voice that sounded a hell of a lot more confident than I felt.

Olivia’s own voice sounded full of trepidation when she asked, “You ready to talk about it?”

Never
was the first word that came to mind. Knowing my best friend, though, that wasn’t possible. So, what could I say to her that would get her off my back about this?

I couldn’t tell her that I had lost my virginity to her brother and that he had been so drunk he couldn’t remember the next day. I couldn’t tell her it had been the best night of my life, followed up by the morning that killed all of my hopes and dreams. And I couldn’t tell her that I might never be ready or willing to forgive Lucas for crushing me. If I did, then she would pester me until the end of time to know why.

That left exactly one thing I could tell her.

“Remember when we were younger and you used to tell me that I would grow out of my crush on Lucas?”

She answered slowly. “Yeah.”

“Let’s just say I finally grew out of my crush and leave it at that, okay?”

Displeased with the answer, Olivia asked in an unsatisfied tone, “That’s the story you’re sticking with?”

“Until the day I die,” I replied.

Olivia snorted. “All right, girl. If you ever change your mind, you know you can talk to me.”

“I can also have all of my teeth pulled by the dentist. No offense, but I’d rather have that done than ever have the Lucas conversation with you.”

“Ouch. Point taken. I’ll drop the subject.” She laughed. “So, what are you doing this weekend? I thought we could see a movie.”

“Actually, I’m taking my mom into the city to do some clothes shopping. Rain check?”

“Sure, chickadee. Talk to you later?”

“Absolutely,” I answered honestly. I might not want to talk about what had happened, but Olivia was my best friend. We would stick by each other until the end of time.

I had just put my phone down on my kitchen table when I felt a delicate hand on my shoulder. I didn’t need to look back to know who it was. She was vital enough to me that I would know the touch or smell of her anywhere. My mom.

As soon as I did look back at her, she took her hand off my shoulder and ran it over my hair in a comforting touch. “It’s been six months since your birthday, darling. Whatever it is, I’m here if you need an ear to listen.”

Her eyes were kind and seemed understanding. I was pretty sure she had pieced together a bit of what had happened, but she had given me the space to work through it on my own while letting me know she was there.

Although I didn’t want to tell her everything, it was time to tell her something at least.

I motioned for her to sit down at the table then grabbed her hands in my own. “Can I ask you something, Mom?”

“Anything, darling,” she replied warmly.

Hesitantly, I asked the question that had plagued my mind on and off for years, but more so since my birthday. “Do you miss Dad?”

Her entire body flinched at my question, and I immediately felt like crap for asking.

“It’s okay,” I said quickly. “You don’t have to answer that.”

She shook her head and squeezed my hand. “No. No, I’ll answer. I always knew you wondered about your father and would probably ask about him someday, but the question still caught me by surprise.” My mother took a deep breath, as if trying to fortify herself somehow. “Would you be terribly surprised if I told you yes?”

Actually, yes. I was shocked down to my toes, really. I was ready for her to say she was glad he was out of our lives and hoped to never see him again. What I wasn’t ready for was that answer.

A sad smile spread across my mom’s face as she watched my reaction. “Yes, I guess you are surprised. You have to understand, Ginny, that your father wasn’t always the man you remember him to be. Well, what little you can remember. You were so young when we left.” Mom paused, took a deep breath, and then said something that shocked me. “You know, you and Lucas have something in common with your father and me.”

My eyebrows shot up my forehead, and all I could get out was a bewildered, “Oh?”

She patted my hand affectionately before gripping her hands tightly on the table in front of her. Nodding, she continued, “We grew up across the street from each other. I’ve known him my whole life.”

Astonished, I slumped back into my chair. My mom and I hadn’t talked about my dad much since we had left him all those years ago, so there was a lot I didn’t know about him, and I probably shouldn’t be as surprised as I was. Still, I was speechless.

“You see, your father and I both come from well-to-do families, what many would call ‘old money.’ Our parents ran in the same social circles. Our mothers took tea regularly, and our fathers golfed together once a week. Your father and I saw each other quite often. I was rather taken with him from an early age, and he was much the same with me. Our parents realized what was blossoming between us and encouraged it. They felt it was a good match and would produce a profitable union.

“I didn’t care about what being with your father might do for me money-wise. Why should I? My family had plenty of it. The only thing that mattered to me was the way the boy across the street held the door open for me and led me through the waltz as if we danced on air.”

As she paused to watch me, I thought I probably looked like a fish the way my mouth kept opening and closing, but nothing came out for quite a while.

Eventually, I squeaked, “That’s not exactly the dad I remember.”

Her shoulders lifted and fell in a helpless shrug. “People change, darling. The young man I fell in love with opened my doors, pulled out my chairs, had impeccable manners, and escorted me to my debutante ball. He was the perfect gentleman in every way. More importantly, he was good to me.”

My mind raced with jumbled thoughts. I didn’t remember much about my father, but everything I did remember didn’t add up to the man she was describing. The man I had nightmares about was a monster. The man she described was Prince Charming. It was like she was trying to tell me two plus two equaled five, and she also had oceanfront property in Arizona to sell me.

To this day, what I could remember of my father woke me up in a cold sweat. He had never laid a hand on me, but I remembered horrible bruises on my mother’s face once. And I would never forget the way he would shove me into my pitch-black room from time to time with a fierce command to be completely silent as he locked the door so I couldn’t get out. How in the world could that man be the same one who had waltzed with my mother and made her fall in love with him?

My mother’s soft voice cut through my confusion. “I can see the disbelief written across your face, and I understand why you would have trouble accepting what I am telling you. The thing is, darling, you have to understand that sometimes life gives people lemons, and they don’t simply add sugar and make it lemonade. When given more lemons than they can handle, they add vodka, drowning out the sweetness of what life could be. Instead, they prefer to get lost in the intoxicating power of the alternative, losing themselves and becoming someone else they feel they need to be. That’s what happened to your father.”

Now this conversation had turned ridiculous. She was comparing the angry man who had put bruises on his wife and locked his daughter in the dark to a freakin’ drink? And speaking of lemons, a few bites of the lemon sorbet I had in my freezer was totally needed right now if we were going to talk about my psychopathic father.

Getting up from my chair, I went into the kitchen, heading straight for the freezer. As I put the lemon sorbet on the counter, two bowls appeared next to it, courtesy of my mom. I looked over at her, and she smiled at me indulgently.

“I must really be stressing you out if you’re diving into the ice cream, darling.”

Biting my bottom lip, I shrugged back. “I wouldn’t say you’re stressing me out, Mom. I would say you’re confusing the holy hell out of me.” I started dishing up the creamy, yellow goodness into our bowls.