Devil's Despair: Travis's Stand Part 12

"Guess not," he replies quickly. "I'm all out of words for you anyway."

"But you're not out of whiskey," I snap back, looking at the bottle in his hand. It has to be said, there are several reasons Travis doesn't drink hard alcohol. Not only does it make him an a.s.shole, it also makes him sick for days after.

"Nope," he returns.

"I'm going to bed," I tell him, as I start to move past him, eager to get away.

"Yeah. Do that. Since I don't have anything to wait for, I'll be out here catching up with all my friends. Maybe I'll make a few calls."

I hear his unsaid threat and the tone he voices it in.

"Don't call anyone, Travis. Rae and now Lacey already know too much."

"Well, the rest don't know s.h.i.t. People need to be enlightened."

"You're an a.s.shole," I respond, untucking my blouse from my skirt.

"Maybe, but no one's around to care anymore."

"Don't do this," I plead, knowing he's not finished.

"Ellie wants me to go away with her next weekend. She wants us to 'explore' what we've started," he tells me, slightly swaying in place.

"Then you should," I answer, not certain what else to say.

He walks closer to me and my a.s.s. .h.i.ts the table as I try to back up. "You think I'm an a.s.shole already, so it won't be a surprise when I tell you that while I'm deep inside her body, I'll be remembering the feel of yours."

I close my eyes, wishing he hadn't said that. It's completely out of character. His hand touches my waist and I jump at the connection to this person I don't recognize.

"She sucks c.o.c.k, though. You never did. That'll be all her."

I feel my eyes widen. I swallow hard, trying to forget his further insult regarding what we once had. "Why are you doing this?" I ask softly.

"Because I have nothing else to do, Sarah." He sets the bottle on the table beside me and walks away, leaving me alone in the midst of his anger, guilt, and sadness. "I'm goin' to bed. f.u.c.k all of this."

Slowly taking a seat at the dining room table, I watch as Travis slams his bedroom door shut. I listen closely to what I imagine are heavy items from his room slamming against his wall-one after the other. I close my eyes and pray he's not hurting himself in the process of working through his fury.

I've never seen Travis act like that, and definitely never toward me. I've broken him. The soft knock at the door causes me to jump. I take a quick look to Trav's room and thank G.o.d for the silence. He's either calmed down, asleep, or pa.s.sed out.

Opening in the front door to the apartment, I find Devon standing on the other side of it. His hands are in his pockets and he's looking down.

"Devon?" I ask, bringing his eyes to mine.

"Can I come in?" he asks with a tone I can't place.

I turn around to quickly glance back into the apartment, and then push him outside. The porch light shines on his face, revealing his expression. He's angry.

"What are you doing here?" I ask quietly, silently praying Travis can't hear us from inside.

His tone is a warning. I've never heard him use it. "We weren't done with our date."

As I move back slightly, my back hits the front door. He walks closer, closing the distance and I brace my hands behind me for support.

"I bought you dinner."

"Yes," I agree, confused.

"I did everything you wanted. I asked you out, I picked you up, and I put up with your f.u.c.king friends."

"Okay," I try agreeing to cut him off.

"What didn't I do?"

Feeling myself getting less uncomfortable, but more defensive, I snap, "What?"

"I didn't ask you to blow me."

"What the h.e.l.l is wrong with you?" I ask as my eyes narrow. "I don't owe you anything. We're friends."

"Friends," he hisses, leaning closer. "We've been friends for too long. You led me on."

"Not at all," I deny because it's true. He's delusional.

Before I can contemplate the severity of the situation, Devon grabs my arms, pinning them above my head as his body blankets mine. His head moves down quickly and I then I feel his lips on mine. The kiss isn't gentle-it's violent. His tongue is pushing against my lips and his fingers are tightening around my arms. I try to pull away but the strength of his determination doesn't waver.

I taste liquor on his breath before he bites my bottom lip and I yelp a m.u.f.fled cry, giving him an opportunity to push farther into my mouth.

I don't panic because I'm not as much scared as I am p.i.s.sed.

"You're a f.u.c.kin' tease," he says. "You're nothing," he tells me. "You're a f.u.c.king waitress!"

Closing my eyes, again praying Travis doesn't hear this, I demand in a calming tone, "Let go of me, Devon."

"Blow me," he says, letting go of my arms and pushing my shoulders in the direction of the cold concrete we're standing on.

I fight him, but this spurs his anger further. "Let me go," I say again.

Quickly, he moves his hands to my waist and changes our position. He's pinned me against the wall beside the front door and his hands are at my neck again. He's squeezing tightly enough that I feel the warmth of my blood rushing to my face.

My right knee comes up of its own accord and I ram it into his b.a.l.l.s as hard as I can. I hear him hiss in pain so I open my eyes and watch as he bends over. My left knee comes up and strikes his nose. I feel the crack upon contact.

"Get the f.u.c.k out of here," I hiss at him.

He's on the ground, blood dripping spa.r.s.ely from his nose. I should have clocked him harder.

"You're a c.u.n.t."

Oh my G.o.d, I hate that f.u.c.king word.

"Get out!" I say louder, no longer caring if Travis wakes. Even in a drunken state, Travis would kill Devon for touching me the way he just did.

I walk into the apartment for safety and watch as Devon slowly stands. He's searching the porch, trying to find me. When his eyes find mine, I close the door halfway.

"c.u.n.t. You're a f.u.c.kin' waitress. You serve me food." He laughs sardonically. "f.u.c.k you," he spits out before turning around and walking away.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

Sarah AFTER CHECKING THE windows to ensure Devon's really gone, I lock up the apartment, walk to the fridge and help myself to a beer.

Dear G.o.d in heaven, what the f.u.c.k was that?

Making my way to my room, I contemplate waking Travis or calling Ace. I'm unsure what I'd say, considering Devon is far worse for wear than I am. My arms ache slightly from his hands and both my knees sting from kicking his a.s.s. I can't help but smile while reliving Devon's motions as he picked up his ego on the way out.

f.u.c.king b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

I change into Trav's shirt and shorts before crawling into my bed. Thoughts of Devon disappear as soon as my adrenaline starts to slow. My mind rewinds further into the evening-to Travis and me standing in Hayden's dark spare bedroom.

You broke my heart, Sarah.

Travis said that.

I need to be with you.

Travis said that, too.

At first, I thought my refusal to discuss our relationship was because I'd regretted what had happened between us. I didn't. Self-preservation and worry about losing him as my best friend was my biggest concern. Facing Ace, of course, was next.

He thought I was feeling guilty and to avoid remembering it, I wanted to avoid bringing it out in the open for examination. He, on the other hand, needed to talk about it.

Talking to Lacey tonight, however briefly, was a relief. To a point, she was understanding. Obviously she's his little sister and doesn't like that I'm hurting him, but I'm trying to protect him. If the others found out about Travis and me, they'd feel pressured to tell Ace. He would come apart. There's no telling his reaction. My brother's the one unknown variable I'm most afraid of.

Closing my eyes tightly, I take a breath and try to deny everything.

While I'm deep inside her body, I'll be remembering the feel of yours.

The thought of him spending a weekend with Ellie, cementing their relationship and committing themselves to each other, at any level, sickens me. My stomach aches with loss. My head hurts from regret, but my heart lies open and vulnerably exposed.

For the first time since all this started I'm second-guessing my decision to deny myself what I want.

I'm all out of words for you, anyway.

And he is. Travis is his own person. He doesn't look to others for approval and keeps himself guarded, rarely letting someone in. By chance, G.o.d put him in my life and no matter how angry his words become, I know I have his heart. And he also has mine.

I feel the tears start to form in my eyes and I look to the ceiling in hopes they don't fall. "Bean," I say out loud. "Tell me what do to."

Silence. She doesn't answer.

Grabbing my phone from my jacket pocket, I pull it out to find a text.

Lacey 10:34 p.m. Are you okay?

Not really, but I'll lie. It seems I'm lying to just about everyone anyway, namely myself.

11:14 p.m. Yes.

Lacey 11:16 p.m. Talk to him, Sarah. If he's what you want, tell him. Either way, just tell him something that's true.

I don't send a response. After tonight, hearing Travis lay his heart open to me; I've come to the conclusion I should've already reached. Closing my eyes, I take a breath and try to imagine a life without him in it. His friendship, his care, his constant struggle to watch over me, but most of all, his love. Once I open my eyes, more tears fall.

I don't want to ever be without him.

Sometimes we don't always see what's in front of us until it's not there, Sarah.

Lacey's right.

Flipping through the music on my phone, I find the country song Travis was playing last week when I came home early from dinner. I've only heard the instrumental version since Travis doesn't sing as he plays. Turning it up only enough so as to not bring attention to my room, I listen as Brantley Gilbert sings about a girl he's always loved, but sadly she never noticed.

Crawling into bed, I close my eyes and try to sleep.

Hours later, I'm jolted awake by a vague, pleading voice coming from across the hall.

Travis "I'll find out," the menacing man says before folding his phone and looking around the room again.

Reaching down to my mom, who still lies asleep on the floor, he pulls her blonde hair roughly and spits, "Other guests are about to arrive, c.u.n.t. I suggest you start movin.' You need to clean the place up before the boys get here."

I shiver in fear. The boys?

Rubbing the zipper of his pants, he rests his knee next to my mom's body and touches her where she never lets my dad when I'm with them. He rubs her chest hard and I hear him grunt words I can't understand. Mom moves slightly, adjusting herself and settling on her back.

His head dips down further and through the crack of the cabinet I watch as his tongue comes out and he uses it to lick her neck. She starts to fight him off, but she doesn't have the strength to use against him. Her eyes stay closed and she groans.

Mom's in pain.

Tears start to fall from my eyes and I don't wipe them away. I can't stop watching.

I hear a whimper from the hole I'm hiding in and realize it's me making the noise. He looks up quickly and looks through the small trailer kitchen in search of the noise-of me. I cover my mouth with both hands quickly.

He can't find me in here.

If he does, he'll hurt me too.