SNAP (The SNAP Trilogy Book 1) (20 page)

"Don't get so excited. Joseph is in for some work. It's not ours, it's completely different."

"What do you mean?" he asks, his voicing rising. "Phil's not taking Snap? What is he on?"

"Calm your tits, Dale. I don't have long, so listen up and save your yelling for later."

I fill him in on the night, the pills, and the effects of them. He sits quietly and listens as I quickly describe it all hoping Hazel takes a long shower and doesn't walk in the room to discover me gone.

"Tell Joseph to be ready. I'll be back tomorrow night."

Dale grunts before saying, "You shouldn't have taken it. Be prepared for the ass kicking of a lifetime, my friend."

The call ends and I chuckle. Maybe in his wildest fucking dreams. Dale has never been able to take me down, but he sure is passionate when he tries.

I sneak back in to an empty living room. The bathroom door is still closed, so I kick my shoes off and lay down on the couch waiting for her. About ten minutes later she emerges in an oversized t-shirt and cotton pants, drying her hair with a towel. Her arms and neck are red as if she scoured her skin in the shower in an attempt to erase the pain. She drapes the towel over a kitchen chair and pours herself a glass of wine. I'm not going to argue with her. Whatever helps to bring her some normalcy.

As she walks toward the couch I go to sit up, but she signals for me to stay and sits on the floor resting back against the middle cushion. She takes a drink of her wine and chokes on it as Steve Correl screams bloody murder while getting his chest waxed. I laugh deep, feeling it in my stomach, as he belligerently curses. Hazel cracks a smile and chuckles a little too.

"This movie is stupid," she says as she lays her head back on the cushion.

"Stupid? This movie is awesome," I retort, exasperated.

"I didn't say it wasn't good." She shrugs her shoulders. "It's stupid funny."

"No,
Dumb and Dumber
is stupid funny. This movie is hilarious. There's probably some nerd out there that thinks this movie portrays their life."

Hazel's mouth drops open and she smacks my leg. "Don't be ugly."

"What? I'm not being ugly. I couldn't be ugly if I tried. Have you even paid attention to all this?" I wave my hand down the length of my body and she rolls her eyes, snorting at my antics.

"Everyone has an awkward period in their life. You didn't always look like
that
." She mimics the wave of my hand and takes a drink of wine waiting for my response.

"Hate to burst your bubble, but I've had swagger since the day I was born." I put my hands behind my head and smile, letting my cockiness rule me, then wink at her.

I'm thankful she's not dwelling on what happened to her. That shows her strength and resolve to not let Phil keep her down. I’ll do anything I can to get a reaction out of her, to make her feel alive again and not be that shell of a person she was shortly before. Living in that darkness is not living, it's only surviving. She has too much ahead of her to suffer that kind of existence.

Hazel cocks her head to the side and studies me for a moment. She points at me with her drink hand and squints her eyes. "I'm sure you were cutting girls' gums all over town when you had them braces, too."

"You little–"

My fingers take action, slipping under her arm and assaulting her with tickles. She jerks and shrieks spilling wine on herself. She tries to break free and sets her glass down, but I'm all over her. As she blocks my hands I find other places that make her squeal with laughter. She's laughing so hard she can't keep upright and tears stream down her face. This is the way she should always be, happy and carefree. The way I want to remember her.

"I'm…gonna…pee!"

I give one more tickle for good measure then wrap my arms around her to hold her steady. She wipes away her tears as she gasps for air trying to catch her breath. Hazel is the most ticklish person I've ever met. I grab her hand and pull her down on the couch with me.

She lays her head against my shoulder as she catches her breath and all I can smell is her coconut shampoo on her lightly damp hair. It always reminds of summers past, girls in bikinis, and the beaches of California where my grandparents used to take me when I was younger. The memories have always been good ones. But now when I smell coconut, I'll picture Hazel. Her smile, the way she feels in my arms cuddled up on her shitty couch, and how even in an old, torn-up shirt two sizes too big with faded cotton sleep pants, she's still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. It'll be a bittersweet reminder.

The thoughts make my chest constrict, every breath feeling like a knife stabbing me inside. I don't like those thoughts. They cause me to feel deeper than I'd like. Every moment I spend with her awakens emotions that I buried long ago; emotions I swore to myself that would never see the light of day again. I know it's not my father's fault, he did what he thought was best for all of us. Any blame I have I place on my whore of a mother. My grandparents had a hard time of it, learning how to raise a child decades after their own were grown. They were strict, but not overbearing.

My dad was in the marines and did several tours in Saudi when I was younger. Mom went wild while he was gone and constantly dropped me off at my grandparents' house. In the beginning it would be a night here or there. Then she would be gone for days at a time without calling, then weeks. I missed her horribly and sobbed myself to sleep. She would cry when I would tell her, and always tell me she'd never leave me for that long again, but after the first couple of times she didn't keep her promises, I knew they were all lies. My tears just made her feel guilty. She never intended to change. Eventually she dropped me off and never came back. Although I was child, I wasn't surprised. After the way she did me, I knew it was bound to happen.

My grandparents didn't want to worry my father while he was at war. So they just made it seem like I just happened to be there every time he called looking for us. When he came home six months later, they broke the news to him. He was devastated that my mom could do that to our family. He wasn't the same person I remembered before he left. There were times when he didn't even seem like he was there. We continued to live with my grandparents after he came home, which was the best thing for me because my father couldn't function on a day to day basis. Some days were better than others, but some were awful. He was losing his mind.

When he signed up for another tour, it upset me because I felt like he was leaving me, too, but it felt more like a stranger abandoning me at that point. My Mammy, what I call my grandmother, tried to explain to me how bad war was without really revealing anything. She said that my dad had seen some horrible things and didn't know how to cope with it all. I later understood that as PTSD. When he came back a year later, he was empty inside. He deteriorated even more over the next few months. I found his dead body hanging in the garage when I went to ride my bike after school. Those memories are sketchy at best. I think my young mind couldn't process it all and locked everything away. Except for his vacant eyes. Those I will always remember.

My mother showed up for the funeral. She had a whole new life with a new husband and a baby. She had replaced us like a worn pair of shoes. We just weren't comfortable enough for her. If I thought I was done being heartbroken over my mother, I was fucking wrong. She introduced me to my baby sister like I was the neighbor's child. Mammy didn't let me out of her sight that day. I clung to her hand like I was drowning when my mother approached with that child. The only thing I muttered the entire day was to that baby.

"I hope she loves you more than she loved me."

My mother's joyous expression disappeared as tears filled her eyes. It wasn't a time for family reunions. Her husband, who I assume was waiting to meet me as well, reflected her hollowness at my words. The woman abandoned me long before she actually disappeared. I guess my words could have been meant for him as well. They didn't stay long after that and she didn't tell me goodbye either.

Pops, my grandfather, did the best he could to raise me into an upstanding citizen with morals and values. Mammy did her best to teach me about love and respect. She always said you can't have one without the other.  Regardless of what my parents did to me, my grandparents loved me with everything they had. I had a normal upbringing, but they saw the change in me after my dad died. They assumed it was the shock of finding my father and seeing my mother again, but it never went away. There were pieces of me broken that can never be fixed, no matter how hard they tried. They finally stopped trying to get me to open up to them.

They've also stopped asking when I'm going to settle down and give them some grandchildren. Not that they would be able to enjoy them on an everyday basis if I did. They moved to Cali after Pops retired and we visit each other several times a year, but it's not the same. I think they were just worried that I would be all alone since they are gone. I've got Dale and Joseph. They are like my brothers. We became inseparable when we were children and even attended Florida State University together. Four years of sowing our wild oats was all that was needed. We partied hard, and at one point I almost got kicked out school. My Pops was fit to be tied. He threatened to make a trip just to tan my hide. I knew it was time to straighten up. If Pops said he was going to whoop my ass, he wasn't fucking around anymore.

I chuckle thinking about how pissed off Pops was and how much that threat scared me. Hazel's head bobs with my laughter and falls forward, but she jerks it back to rest on my shoulder. I lean forward and realize she's asleep.

I nudge her with my arm and her eyes flutter open.

"Let's get you to bed."

She nods sleepily and stands up almost falling over. I grab her arm to steady her and shut off the TV leaving the lamp on. As she staggers like a drunk person toward her room, I double check the locks on the front door and peek out the window. If Phil is watching, he's more than likely losing his fucking mind right now knowing I'm here.

I walk back to Hazel's room and find her under the blanket curled up in a ball fast asleep. The blanket is pulled up under her chin and her hair is falling in her face. Her lips, slightly parted, push out slow, deep breaths. She looks peaceful, but it's a lie. Somewhere deep inside she's housing her secrets. Tucking them away so no one can see them. I know because I do the same. We all do. No one shares the same secrets. Our emotions mold us into different casts, shaping us into who we become. I've filled mine with concrete so I don't have to feel, but recently it feels more like quicksand.

I sit on the edge of the bed and watch her sleep debating whether I should leave or not. Every moment I spend with her opens up that part of me I never wanted to face again. Her smile shines on my darkness and it isn't as desolate when she's around, showing me that I still have a shred of hope I'm clinging to. That unwanted boy that I thought hardened long ago is still there waiting for someone to come get him. Not just anyone, though. He's been waiting for the right person.

I do something I've never let myself do before.

I allow the quicksand to swallow me whole.

I stay with her.     

Hazel

I jerk awake to a noise by my ear and find myself entangled in arms and legs. Disoriented, I turn my head to discover Cash's face buried in my hair, his chin resting on my shoulder. The sounds I'm hearing are his light snores. I attempt to untangle my legs, but he pulls me tighter against him. His hand slides up to my breast and squeezes it gently before relaxing his hold and leaving it there. Nuzzling into my neck, he kisses me lightly and sighs before snoring again. My pounding heart nearly skips a beat at his gentleness.

I melt into his arm as I listen to him breathe and feel his heart beating against my back. My arm covers his and I cup the hand that is cupping my breast. It feels so natural to be here with him like this. I've never been comfortable sleeping with someone. It's always seemed awkward, and our bodies never fit together right. But laying here with Cash, our bodies fit together perfectly. Two pieces cut for the same puzzle.

When his grip eases on me again, I roll over to face him. Dark lashes lay against his skin and his shadowed jaw and upper lip highlight his bone structure to perfection. His strong jaw is slack and the lips that turn me to mush are barely closed in a sleepy pout. The long line of his neck leads to a strong shoulder and his shirtless chest rises and falls with his breaths mesmerizing me. A light dusting of dark hair decorates his chest and trails down below the blanket gathered at his waist. My heart pounds in my chest as I resist touching him. I want time to admire him without him waking, but it's hard to do that without running my hands down his body. He snorts loudly in his sleep and I have to keep myself from laughing. That must have been what woke me.

He rolls to his back and I lay my head on his chest watching as he inhales and exhales. The lines of his muscles and the hair on his chest taunts me as I gaze at him. I lay my hand over his heart attempting to ease some of the need to touch him. But soon the smooth and steady thump beneath it has my thumb rubbing back and forth to its rhythm. My hand begins to take on a life of its own, running through the hair on his chest and tracing the lines of his muscles as I get lost in thoughts of him.

Cash mentally pushed me further than I thought I was ready to go tonight. I know he said I didn't have to say anything I didn't want to, but I didn't have to. The photo he showed me said it all. There was no reason to utter a word. His response to my reaction said he already knew. Cash has been keeping his own secrets. I wanted to ask who the woman was, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I'm not ready to learn what he knows just yet or how he knows. It might be more than I can handle at the moment on top of dealing with my own shit.

Although it worries me how he is involved with this, it warms my heart to know that he stayed. Cash could have left after we got back to my apartment, but chose not to. He stayed silent and let me work through the mess in my head. It was comforting that he was here if I wanted to talk about it. He never once looked at me with sympathy, only compassion. He tried his best to distract me without being blatantly obvious about it and help pull me from the nightmare playing over and over again in my mind. I couldn't be more thankful for that. The other times he saved me from physical harm. This time he saved me from myself. There is nothing worse than getting lost in your head reliving painful memories and not knowing how to escape. Because there isn't a way to escape yourself. My conscious reminds me constantly, and not in a nice way.

That's changed since Cash has entered the picture. I don't dwell on it as much and am easily distracted by his presence. He's replaced the reoccurring nightmare with thoughts of him. It's not a bad thing, I'd much rather think of Cash than Phil and what he did that horrible night. But I know he won't be here for long. The knowledge that he could be gone tomorrow hurts more than it should for someone I just met. That makes it even more confusing.

I shouldn't care this much about someone I haven't known for long. Maybe it is due to the fact that he saved me repeatedly. Maybe it's due to our chemistry. Maybe it's because I see him struggling with his own bullshit alone in his head as I do. I don't know the fucking why of it.

He's held me, wiped my tears, refused to leave me to suffer all of this alone.

He stayed.

My heart, heavy, overflows with emotions I can't comprehend or work through. Everything of late has happened so fast making my head spin. My eyes pinch shut fighting back the tears of being overwhelmed. My breaths become shorter making it hard to control my breathing. A tingling sensation tickles the crown of my head and spreads through my body quickly feeling like cold water running through my nerve endings. The galloping beats of my heart get faster until it's pounding to the point of shattering my rib cage.

I bury my face against Cash's side that is slick with tears. When I think I can't contain it any longer and think about running into the bathroom to cry it out in solitude, Cash runs his fingers through my hair. At first it startles me and I freeze, holding my breath in the process. Then I become angry at myself for waking him and allowing him to see me like this. My hand balls into a fist on his chest and I have the urge to lift it and slam it down like sledgehammer. To hurt him like I hurt. It's not right to feel this way, and it only causes me to feel worse because I shouldn't want to take it out on him.

He stayed.

Cash rolls to his side and tucks my face into his neck. He grabs my fisted hand and holds it to his heart. It's not as steady as it was before, beating a bit more erratically the longer he witnesses my melt down. Watching me have a panic attack is upsetting him too. That I'm the reason for his discomfort causes a whole other set of thoughts and emotions to hype it up. My breathing becomes tighter, sharper until I'm clawing to either get away or pull him closer in the madness. I'm unsure. The darkness creeps in around the corners of my vision attempting to envelope me.

This is it. I'm dying. I have to be.

Cash squeezes my wrist as my stiff body turns limp in his arms. He presses my palm to his chest and pulls my body in tight to hold it in place.

"Breathe, Hazel." His soothing plea is a rumbling thunder. "Breathe with me."

One of his hands runs through my hair as the other rubs little circles on the small of my back. The beating of his heart slows with each deep breath he sucks into his body, but it takes me several attempts before I can match his rhythm. Closing my eyes, I gulp down each breath and absorb as much of his strength as I can focusing on the steady thrum of his beating heart.

These attacks creep up on me at night and wake me from sleep on a regular basis. They're all because of that fucking bastard Phil. I thought waking alone was easier. No one had to witness the fear, the panic, and the anger that consumes me after. My room as taken the brunt of that hurricane of hatred toward Phil. Waking in a panic I can't get control of and thinking I'm going insane has had me destroying anything within reach. I've had to throw out so much stuff. I awoke in my closet one morning after ripping everything from the hangers and collapsing inside. The remnants of a picture my dad drew for me was shredded around me and wadded up in my hand. It was heartbreaking that I destroyed one of the few things I have left from him. It was even more heartbreaking that I couldn't remember exactly why I had done it. But after feeling anger toward Cash, I assume it's because I was angry at him for not being here for me. All I ended up doing was hurting myself more.

Cash's arms keep the anger at bay. It's still there, but it's not all consuming. His calmness suffocates the impending storm that usually awaits me. Tonight it's a blessing. I don't know what I would've done with the images of that woman circling my mind along with the other memories. It's an unhealthy way to deal with the demons Phil has left behind. I know this. I don't want to be like this anymore. Every day that I wake, I put a mask on hiding it away so people don't have to worry. That mask is cracking under the pressure of recent events. I want it gone. Wiped from my memory.

"Take it away." My shaky whisper sounds foreign.

Cash's fingers keep their reassuring strokes as they glide through my hair. His other hand slides up my body around the side of my neck and his thumb strokes my jaw. The caress erases that memory on my flesh of Phil and replaces it with one that's loving. I need all of them gone.

Cash rolls me to my back and leans over me. His thumb stills as his eyes search mine.

"Nothing I do will erase what you've been through. I can take away your pain tonight, but it'll be there tomorrow." He hesitates for a moment, his voice thick with emotion. "It'll be there forever, Hazel."

His sorrow engulfs me, mixing with my own. I knew he was hiding things, we all do, but emotions of this magnitude…. Cash is much better at shutting down than I am. I've never had to do it before and don't understand how to turn them off. I don't know what he has been through, but I want to erase his pain too. If anything, we can begin weaving each other back together in the short time we have.

I pull his face to mine and rub my cheek against the stubble now growing. I want him to know how much I need that and that it's okay to want it too. There's no reason for him to suffer alone. He's helped me more than he realizes by just being here.

"If you let me, I'll erase yours too."

I brush my lips across his and he exhales sharply. He searches my face one last time. For signs of what, I'm unsure, but he must have found what he's looking for because his grip in my hair tightens and his lips meet mine. The tip of his tongue sweeps over my lips begging for entrance and when I open for him, he sneaks inside like a sinner seeking refuge in a church. It starts off soft and grows more urgent and passionate as I meet him stroke for stroke. This kiss is far different than the first kiss we shared. That kiss was full of lies. Lies we told ourselves to keep from getting close to one another. This kiss…is a baptism. Accepting each other for who we are, two broken people who don't want to bring our shadows to light, and washing away the sins committed against us.

He breaks the kiss and moves along my jaw, both of us gasping for air. He licks my earlobe then bites it making me whimper deep in my chest and grip the back of his neck. I wrap my arms around him and pull him on top of me as he assaults my neck with his lips and tongue sending tremors through my body. Something so simple has never felt so damn good. But it's not simple. It's us untangling ourselves from the emotions that imprison us, searching for some sense of harmony within ourselves by relying on each other.

"Cash," I pant. "Take my clothes off. I need to feel you against me."

He growls quietly against my neck then pulls from my embrace. Kneeling between my legs, he pulls me up and lifts my shirt over my head and tosses it to the floor before grabbing the waistband of my pants and pulling them down my legs. His hands run up my calves and stop behind my knees.

"I want to see you."

It sounds like a command. Like he can't go through with this unless his demands are met. I'm normally self-conscious about my body, but the way Cash looks at me makes me feel beautiful. If this is what he needs, then I will comply. I've revealed things about myself I'd never show anyone else. My body is nothing next to those. I reach out and flip the dim lamp on next to my bed.

His eyes meet mine and I want to cry. He's accepted all of me already without seeing my naked form. That's not what has me fighting back tears. It's the fear I see in their depths at what I'm asking him to do. This big, strong man is afraid to let anyone in.

"Touch me."

Cash watches my lips move as the words leave my mouth. His gaze travels down to my breasts. His fingers stroking the skin behind my knees as he worships my chest with his eyes. They stop their movement though and dig a bit into my skin when he sees the claw marks down my rib cage. A haunted look crosses his face as he stares at them. I know he's seeing the woman in the picture who had a similar, fresher version. He rubs his hands down my legs soothingly and forces himself to look away, but it is more for his comfort than my own. I know when his eyes drift between my legs. It's not because of the way he grips my calves or the tightening of his jaw. His erection jerks beneath the confines of his boxes and grows longer giving him away.

He kisses the inside of my thigh then scoots back, standing at the foot of the bed. Not looking away from my wet center, he discards his boxers and pulls a condom from his jeans. He's gorgeous. His cock juts proudly from his body as he gazes intently at my body. I get wetter in anticipation. I know he can see it because I can feel it trickling down my sex. My thighs rub together trying to ease the ache between my legs. This is the most intense foreplay I've ever had and he hasn't touched me yet. The wait is making it hard to breathe.