Devil's Despair: Travis's Stand Part 15

"So mouthy," he replies, and then asks again, "You're not sore?"

"No."

"And, I didn't hurt you?"

G.o.d, he's starting to drive me crazy. I hate to admit this, but it will help ease his worry. "It wasn't my first time, Travis."

"I know this."

"Then stop thinking you hurt me."

To a.s.suage his concern, I decide to distract him. Moving my hands to the hem of my shirt, I raise it over my head. Before my hair falls down my back and I've cast the shirt to the side, Travis grabs my wrists, leaving my arms in the air above me.

And he's f.u.c.king fuming.

"What is this? What the f.u.c.k happened?" he seethes, his finger running over what must be the expanse of skin where Devon's fingers were.

"It's not a big deal."

"That's not a f.u.c.kin' answer, Sarah."

Clearing my throat, I start to stand, removing myself from his lap. His hands fall and he grabs my waist and pulls me back down. I land roughly and watch his eyes narrow with further agitation.

"Devon came over last night," I start, hoping to get this over and done with so we can enjoy the day.

"What the f.u.c.k?" he snaps.

Settling my hands on his shoulders, I squeeze them gently. I feel his fingers digging in at my waist. "Let me talk."

"Talk!" he snaps back.

Taking in a deep breath then releasing, I tell Travis what happened, the simple version anyway. "After I came home, and you went to bed, Devon came back."

"And?"

"He was put off by the way I ended our date last night."

Sitting back, Travis keeps hold of my waist, but pulls me closer to him. "How'd it end?"

"With me telling him goodbye?" I pose it as a question, but I'm not sure why.

"So he didn't like that?"

"I'm guessing not."

Travis's face is lethal. His jaw is ticking as his mind races with scenarios. It's not until he speaks that I realize how far his fury runs.

Not at Devon, though. He's p.i.s.sed at me.

"Tell me why the f.u.c.k you'd open the door to this apartment, let him put his hands on you, hurt you, and you not come get me."

"He didn't come inside!" I exclaim. "You were p.i.s.sed at me already! You had just told me you were going to let Ellie suck your d.i.c.k! Do you not remember?" I shout again, this time leaning back and trying to fight my way out of his hold.

Standing up, Travis places me on my feet. Pointing to his bedroom, he shouts, "I was in the other f.u.c.king room, Sarah. You were out there with him and he had his f.u.c.king hands on you and you said nothing!"

Stepping back from him, I start to lose my temper with his accusation. "It wasn't your problem to deal with, it was mine."

As I spin around in a small circle, I hear Travis mumbling but can't make out the words.

"Travis, it's done. I took care of it. He won't be back."

Stopping from his spin, he places his hands on top of his head and laces his fingers together. I watch as every muscle that cords his chest tightens. "You took care of it?"

"Yes."

"How's that?"

"I think I bruised his nose, but I know I got him good in the sac."

"You went after him?"

"No! I defended myself and won."

"When I was in the other room," he clarifies while seething.

"When you were in the other room pa.s.sed out and hating me," I correct.

Lost in my own train of thought, I hadn't notice Travis walking away from me and toward the kitchen. I hadn't realized he was headed into a maddening dash to release his anger. I catch on, though, as I watch him swipe the kitchen counter with his huge arms and send all the contents, including gla.s.ses, pans, and silverware flying into the air. The swear jar he bought me a long time ago when I first moved in, filled with coins, hits the floor, causing a mess of pennies and nickels at my feet.

"You're insane!" I shout, looking at the mess on the floor.

"I'm p.i.s.sed!" he clips back, louder than I had yelled.

Taking a step away from him, I admit, "You're scaring me."

"You don't know real fear, Sarah. Obviously, or you'd have come and woke me up last night! Jesus Christ, what the f.u.c.k is wrong with you?" he returns, turning around and walking into his room.

I jump when his door slams shut.

After Travis dressed, grabbed his keys, and stormed out of the apartment, I let myself feel the effects of what just happened.

Leaving the mess on the floor in the living room and kitchen, I go change my clothes as I debate if I should call or text Travis. It's not a good idea, so I decide against it. There've only been a few times in my life that I've been nervous to approach him and this is the worst it's ever been.

He needs room and I'll give him that.

The knock at the door as I'm standing in the bathroom looking at my tear stained face brings me out of my thoughts.

"Hold on!" I tell the extremely impatient person waiting on the other side.

One knock, I get. Repeated knocks with little time in between tells me it's going to be the one person in my life I often try to avoid.

When I open the door I find my brother standing with his hands on hips looking down and studying his thick black motorcycle boots. I swallow hard, hoping Travis hasn't already mentioned last night to him. We haven't had a chance to discuss how and when we plan to tell Ace. We were enjoying our morning before my apparent stupidity in opening my own front door ruined everything.

"Ace," I greet, trying to be casual.

"Squirt," he returns, pushing the door open as I step out of his way. "What are you doin' today?"

Well, I had planned to hang out here and let Travis do whatever he wanted to my body before making a light lunch and settling in front of the television for a marathon of Snapped.

I skip all the details and instead offer, "Nothing."

He scans the room and zeroes in on the mess of gla.s.s and coins near the kitchen floor "What the f.u.c.k is that?"

"Oh, nothing. Travis dropped my swear jar."

c.o.c.king his eyebrow, but thankfully letting the mess slide, he asks, "Trav got you a swear jar?"

"Yeah, he thought it would help with my mouth."

"Does he f.u.c.kin' know you?"

"Apparently f.u.c.king not," I quip, half smiling, and relax further as I see Ace's eyes light up with humor.

"I was thinkin' of going to visit Bean this afternoon. Thought I'd stop by to see if you'd like to ride out with me. I brought the bike."

"I would." That sounds like exactly what I need, but don't voice my relief. "Give me a few minutes. I need a coat."

"I'll wait," he says gently. "Take your time." Pointing to the jar that "slipped," he asks, "Want me to clean that up while I wait?"

Surprised by Ace's offer to do anything other than lecture or yell at me, I smile and answer, "No, Travis can get it."

Thirty minutes later, with my body already sore from last night, I climb on the back of Ace's bike wearing Rae's helmet and we make our way down a long stretch of road to the cemetery where we left our beloved Bean what feels like years ago.

As we walk to her resting s.p.a.ce, Ace wraps his large arm around my shoulders and roughly brings me in to his side using his vast strength. This is our way of showing affection. In moments like these, I love my brother more than I could ever make him understand.

"It's pretty here," he observes out loud.

Sitting and getting comfortable next to Bean, I look up at him. His face has a lost expression. His stance appears questioning; completely unsure. Ace doesn't do well with death, so a cemetery must act as kryptonite, challenging his always-bada.s.s exterior.

He continues talking while I stay quiet, holding back emotions that are threatening to spill. "She loved this place when she was alive, remember?" he asks softly, but doesn't wait for my answer. "She said the trees would keep her cool in the summer and hide her from the wind in the winter." Using his hand to remove the fallen leaves from her stone that look to have been there too long, his tone gets gentler as he asks, "Have you read her letter?"

"No."

Crouching down beside me, I notice Ace's face looks sad, causing my d.a.m.ning tears to blur my vision. "You should read it, squirt."

"I will when I. . . ." I can't finish. My body finally releases a sob of the grief I've felt since Travis overreacted the way he did and ruined our morning together.

More than anything, I wish Bean was still around to tell me how to handle this. I rarely ever sought advice from her because I had always a.s.sumed she was old and didn't know what she was saying, but now as I look back, Bean always knew what she was talking about and usually could foresee when Ace and I were about to make a mistake.

Ace lands on his a.s.s and pulls me to his side. He kisses the crown of my head and squeezes my shoulders tightly to him. "I miss her too, Sarah."

"I want her back."

"I know."

"Everything is broken."

Pulling me from him carefully, he moves the hair from my shoulder and puts it behind my back. "What's broken?"

"Me."

Leaning back in to me, he kisses my temple this time and holds me tighter to him. "You're not broken, squirt. You're crazy as f.u.c.k, but that's not broken."

"Funny, a.s.shat."

"It's all I had." He smiles. "You're upset about somethin.'"

"I am."

"Well?"

G.o.d, I want to tell him. I want to tell anyone who would listen and offer advice. More than anything, I want to tell Bean.

"Trav's p.i.s.sed at me."

"I thought something happened there. What was it?"

Wiping the tears and pulling away from him, I lie. "Nothing worth talking about, but it's been a bad morning."

"Then you're right where you should be."

Surprised and happy he hasn't pushed me to tell him what's going on, I say, "I am. Thanks for bringing me with you, Aceface."

He smiles shortly. "Anytime. I'm always around. It's tough finding time since you don't live with me anymore, but I'm here. I feel like f.u.c.kin' s.h.i.t about how you left. I'm gettin' s.h.i.t done and finishing up what I said I would. You can come back anytime." He pauses, then says, "I'd like you to come back soon."

"I like you now, Ace. I didn't before." I smile, breaking the tension around his eyes. "Let's leave it alone and I'll think about it. I don't mind living with Travis, really I don't."

"I want you to know you're safe."

"Travis keeps me safe." Although I don't mention anything about last night as I pull the sleeves of my shirt down past my wrists.

"Do what you think's right for you. I miss you a little, though." He smiles, looking ahead in the distance.

"You miss me a lot," I tell him but he doesn't confirm. He doesn't have to because I already know.

We sit in silence, listening to the area around us. Broken leaves rustling, cars pa.s.sing by on the main road, and other mourners talking as they visit their friends and families in the last place they've left them.