Zenith Rising (31 page)

Spencer, in the blink of an eye, rolled over
on top of her, pinning her wrists together with one hand, while his
other hand gripped her throat. His body weight crushed her, and his
knees pressed into her legs, rendering her immobile. She cried out
in startled panic and pain at his harsh grasp. His unbelievably
frightening grip at the most vulnerable part of her throat
terrified her.

His eyes were on hers, but seemed totally
unfocused.

“It’s Erica,” she tried to gasp out.

He pressed harder.

Panicking with terror, she twisted her body
frantically and tried to get out from under his weight. “Spencer!
Please, wake up! It’s me. It’s Erica!”

He blinked and finally seemed to realize
where and who he was. As quickly as he pinned her, he suddenly
released her. He let her wrists go and rolled off before sitting up
and running a hand over his face, and through his hair.

“Jesus! Erica, you can’t do that. You scared
the living shit out of me.” His voice sounded gravelly, and
confused still.

“I scared you?” Erica repeated, her jaw
dropping. He held her in a death grip, simply because she scared
him? She was shaking uncontrollably, while still trying to get over
the shock of being physically manhandled by the very man she only
wanted to cuddle up next to.

“What are you doing here?” Spencer asked,
lifting his head and glancing at the clock. “Christ, it’s only
four-thirty.”

“I got off early. I didn’t want to go home
and be alone.”

“How’d you get in?”

“I know your garage door code. I’m sorry. I
made a mistake.” She sat up, scrabbling towards the side of the
bed.

“Wait,” he said, grabbing her hand, this time
more gently. “Just wait. Give me a second. I was just surprised.
You don’t have to leave.”

She felt so ill at ease, she didn’t know what
to do. Scooting back towards him, she rested against the headboard
and drew her knees up to her chest.

She swallowed and whispered, “What was
that?”

“What? I don’t know. I woke up and knew
someone was in here. I didn’t think, I just reacted. I have to
admit, my first thought wasn’t that it might have been you.”

“Spencer, you had me pinned down. Your
fingers were tight and choking me.”

She felt his fingers touching her neck and he
looked suddenly sick. “Are you okay?”

She stared, and her mouth hung open. Was she
okay? She was totally at a loss and completely freaked out. But she
was mostly scared by what she’d seen, and his instinctive reaction
to the possibility of any threat.

“No. Not so much.”

“I’m sorry,” he said at last. “Look, I spent
a few years on the street. Didn’t always know what was coming at me
all the time. I became a light sleeper, just to be ready for the
worst.”

She stared into his face, but he turned from
her. Her heart heaved and fluttered in her chest with emotion. “No.
I’m sorry. It never occurred to me.”

“Of course, it shouldn’t occur to you! Why
should I try to attack you just for startling me?” he said, his
voice sounding sarcastic as his eyes glared at her. Then he looked
away, shaking his head.

He lay back down and flipped over onto his
stomach. She stared at his broad, smooth back and her heart beat
faster. She came closer, and stretched out beside him. Putting her
arms around the broad expanse of his shoulders, she buried her face
in his hair, and breathed deeply. Inhaling slowly, she asked, “Who
did it, Spencer?”

“Who did what?” His entire body went rigid
and his voice was muffled into his pillow.

“Who hurt you? Who was it?”

He went completely still. So perfectly still,
she wondered if he would get up and throw her off him. Kick her
out. Refuse to answer her. And maybe never see her again. She
didn’t know. It was a long moment, which she knew could go either
way with him. He’d open up to her, or end it right then.

“I’m not stupid, Spencer. I know at age
thirteen, something big made you run away with Rob and never go
back. Something bad must’ve happened. You just about attacked me
for sneaking into your bed without any warning. God, baby, I know
what that means. Was it your father?”

Silence. He shifted and shook her off his
back.

“Couldn’t be. Never knew Jose.”

Erica sat up straight. He answered her.
Softly, she asked, “Jose was your father?”

“I have no idea. Even my mother never knew
his name. Never saw him more than the few hours it took to fuck and
conceive me. Obviously, Jose was a spic, and my poor, pretty,
blond-haired mother was stuck raising me.”

She ignored his language. He was sitting with
his feet on the ground and his elbows resting on his knees. His
head hung down so she couldn’t see any of his face. She touched his
back with only her fingertips and asked again, “Who was it? A
stepfather?”

Silence. Heavy. Chilling. Erica shivered. She
felt sick inside.

Finally he mumbled, “Stepbrother.”

Erica let out a breath of anguish. Disbelief.
Grief.
He told her.
He admitted the reason and what his
action so clearly showed. She shut her eyes in mental pain for
Spencer. She knew it, didn’t she? She’d always sensed he was abused
as a child. She didn’t know the details. It could have been
physically, verbally, sexually or through neglect, but she noticed
the signs that he suffered from abuse. She understood how indelible
and tragic it must have been to have twisted him all up so much
emotionally, he practically attacked anyone who tried to breach his
defenses.

“How old were you?”

“Twelve.”

He shuddered under her hand and suddenly got
up, shaking her off him. He nervously paced around the room.

“Spencer?” she asked quietly.

“I couldn’t stop it. He was eighteen and
weighed twice as much as I did.”

Erica stood up, tears filling her eyes.
Spencer stopped pacing. He placed his hands onto the dresser, as he
leaned over it and stared down, his shoulders hunched. She rubbed
his shoulders, with gentle, caring hands, trying to pour her
heartfelt compassion into him. She pressed into his back, her tears
falling on his bare back and he stiffened when he felt her.

“I love you,” she said quietly. Sincerely. To
his back. To his soul. To his warped, dark soul that told him he
didn’t deserve or need love.
Especially her love.
But he
did. She was sure of that one thing.

Turning suddenly, he shoved her hands off
him. “I can’t do this. I can’t sit here and tell you all this shit.
I don’t want your pity or your misguided attempts to save me. I
can’t fucking do this. Any of this.”

He pushed her out of his way and grabbed a
pair of jeans, and a shirt before leaving the room. A few moments
later, Erica heard a car start, then the tires screeching out of
the driveway. She stood there, stunned.
He left.
He left her
there alone. He just walked out on her.

Chapter Twenty

Erica shook herself and grabbed her slacks.
She slipped them on and glanced out the window, finding some
solace.

Spencer took off in her car.

She received a little comfort in that. If he
wanted her to leave, he’d have taken his own car and not stranded
her there. Even if he were too messed up and upset to know what
he’d done or why. She knew, inside her very soul, that he loved
her, and wanted her in his life. He needed her in his life, and had
to tell her everything that happened. He wanted her to know and
understand every black, dark hole in his psyche that used any
opportunity to consume him. He wanted her to fill that black hole
up with her love. He just didn’t know what to do about it. And now
that she was willing to stay, he didn’t know how to handle it.

Erica walked down the hall to the last door
and knocked, hoping that Rob would be in there and alone. Rob
answered, buck-naked, but for a pillow he held over his privates.
She smiled. Rob blanched, looking startled and embarrassed to find
her there.

“Shit, Doc, I thought it was just Spencer.
Just a minute,” he said, backing behind the door. After the last
half hour, seeing Rob’s sudden embarrassment of being caught naked
was funny.

“I need to talk to you.”

“It’s five o’clock. Can’t this wait?”

“No.”

“Where’s Spencer?”

“He left. Please, Rob, just get dressed. I
need to talk to you right now.”

“Okay,” he said, hiding behind his partially
closed door. “Do you think we could have coffee first? I’m still a
little fuzzy.”

Erica spun around. “Fine, we’ll talk while we
have coffee. Just hurry up.”

Erica had the lights on, the drapes open, and
coffee made by the time Rob came down, fully dressed in jeans and a
t-shirt. His hair was damp, and his eyes were still heavy from
sleeping. She slid him a cup of coffee as she sat down next to him
at the bar.

“So what’s up?”

“I told Spencer I’m in love with him and he
freaked out. He stole my car, in fact.”

Rob, taking a sip of coffee, suddenly started
coughing and sputtering. “Shit, Erica. You can’t just tell Spencer
that.”

“Well, I did.”

“Your first mistake. But what can I do about
that? Even if I tell Spence he’s a bloody, stupid fool not to love
you back, I can’t change him.”

“You can tell me why Spencer can’t. How did
Spencer become part of your life?”

Rob looked at her, then down. He wrinkled his
brow and shook his head. “We were neighbors.”

“He told me. About his stepbrother. That’s as
far as he got before he flipped out.”

“He told you?” Rob looked up at her and his
mouth dropped open.

“I asked. And yeah, he told me. He wanted to
tell me. He wants to tell me everything, but he can’t. He’s afraid.
And he’s damn well in love with me. So if you could tell me what
happened to him, then I would know what I need to do to get through
to him. And how to deal with him, because I tell you, he could test
the patience of a saint! And I have no intention of becoming
one.”

“I agree. He does, and he shouldn’t. But it’s
his story to tell; surely you see that? I can’t tell you behind his
back. He’s my best friend. I just couldn’t do that to him.”

“This is much more than that, and you know
it. If you want me in his life, I need to get past his brick wall,
and until I do, we’ll keep going in circles. And I can only try for
so long. So save both of us a lot of grief and help me, before I
walk out of here like he’s trying to make me do. Help me stop that
from happening.”

Rob drank his coffee, as he watched Erica
over the rim of his cup. He finally nodded. “Yeah, okay. I’ll tell
you what I know.”

She covered his hand with her own. “Thank
you. So where did you two live?”

“A small neighborhood, only twenty miles from
here. Don’t look so surprised. It was a nice suburban bedroom
community. Not exactly the horrible circumstances you might have
pictured. Pretty split-levels, fairly well kept yards. Kids playing
at twilight, dogs barking. Normal America. Except for me. And
Spencer.

“My parents were shits too. They were both
alcoholics… Yeah, it runs in the family. When they happened to
remember I was there, they used it as an excuse to beat me up
rather than doing anything to help me. I spent most of my life
trying to avoid them, as well as my house. I spent my time with my
friends, at their houses, or in the fields and empty woods around
the house. Back then, it wasn’t all houses. There were lots of
places I could hide.

“As you can imagine, the four-year age
difference between Spencer and me mattered a lot as kids. Spencer
and I didn’t hang out. I knew of him, and his family. But nothing
really stuck out in my memory, until I was fifteen, and Spencer was
eleven. That’s when his mother remarried. A man and his son moved
in. The son was my age, and his name was Barry. He was a weird kid,
though, and it didn’t take me long to figure out we weren’t hanging
out together. He wasn’t interested in normal guy stuff: riding
bikes, flirting with girls, or stealing beers and sneaking them out
into the woods. About that time, Spencer came on my radar. He’d
grown a foot or so and was already taller than me. But skinny. And
quiet. So quiet and intense, you didn’t know he was there
sometimes. He always watched everything and seemed like he knew
everything. But he didn’t talk, or kid around like most kids do. He
was, even then, introverted and totally into himself.

“The thing is, Erica, he never told me what
Barry did to him. I don’t think I’d know to this day if I hadn’t
caught him at it. I was just a kid, and I didn’t really know what
to do or think about what I saw. Spence never said anything to me
and never even asked for my help. I came up on them out in the
woods one day. Barry was buttoning his pants and must have heard me
coming. Spencer was on the ground, all dirty, like he’d been
struggling; he was cowering there. When he saw me, he scrambled to
get away from Barry. I was a little punk back then and I pulled a
knife on Barry. Just a pocketknife I carried, but I thought I was
tough. Anyway, I told Barry to get the fuck out of there; then I
helped Spencer up. He wouldn’t look at me. Never made eye contact,
but he thanked me. And I knew. I knew then what happened to
him.

“Fucking pervert would corner Spencer
whenever he could. Barry was huge, with a football player kind of
build and real beefy. After that day, Spencer stuck close to my
side. If I was going out, he always came after me. He stayed with
me, never asking, or making conversation. I threw rocks at his
window whenever I went out; and if I called for him, he’d always
come.”

“Jesus,” Erica said, tears running over her
eyes.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No. No, of course not. Tell me what happened
when he was thirteen. Why didn’t you tell anyone what was happening
to Spencer? And what was happening to you too, for that
matter?”