Dearly Beloved, page 12
Having a big brother was incredible. The TV shows had it right. Aaron spent tons of time with her. He showed her cool video games, taught her how to play said video games. Helped her learn to play tennis, played basketball with her, and introduced her to his friends. One of his best friends was Jason Cote, sitting at the dinner table to her right. He was so cute.
Jason was the epitome of a beach bum. At seventeen years old—two and half years younger than Aaron—Jason was the cutest boy Renée had ever seen. He resembled a blond Joey Lawrence with shaggy hair, long thick sideburns, and sky-blue eyes. He left his shirts unbuttoned and off sometimes. When they were playing basketball, he smiled at her and touched her arm the other day. Once, he flexed and let her feel his muscles. She got goosebumps. His brother, Giovanni DeSantis, was nothing like him.
Giovanni and Jason were both seventeen and stepbrothers. He was the polar opposite of Jason. Tall, slim, he had short chestnut hair and dark brown eyes. His awkward and painfully shy personality differed completely from Jason’s confidant, happy-go-lucky. Giovanni rarely spoke to her or anyone. They were excellent, but it would be weird living with them.
Of course, this wasn’t her house. She was thankful to be treated so well and for the opportunity to live in such a lovely house. No one ever hit her or made her feel invisible here. They doted on her. Bobby even made breakfast for her every morning like a real mom. One of the best perks of living here was that Bobby let her stay home from school whenever the wine made her feel funny. With all that, who was she to dictate to them who could and couldn’t live there?
“Yes. They can stay; that’s fine with me,” Renée agreed.
Everyone smiled at her.
Bobby poured some wine into Renée’s glass. “They’re going to be staying in the spare bedrooms on my side of the house.” She scooted the glass toward Renée. “You’ll barely know they’re here.”
Aaron tapped the table in front of her, grabbing her attention. “We’re”—he pointed to himself and his friends—“playing video games in my room tonight. You wanna hang out with us?”
Oh, my God!
Renée schooled her features into a smooth, expressionless mask. Inside, she did backflips. The robot. She couldn’t wait to call her best friends, Becky and Sam. They would flip when they heard about her hanging out with high school boys for the night. In a room. Alone.
“Sure… sure I want to,” Renée answered, trying hard not to smile.
Renée gazed around the room. She’d been here before, not at night, though. It amazed her how much the room didn’t fit the house or the man who occupied it. Aaron was only twenty, but she’d thought he’d have more than he did. Sitting cross-legged on the floor behind Aaron, Jason, and Giovanni—who gathered around an enormous television on the floor playing video games—she scrutinized the room.
A king-sized bed with boring, faded, navy-blue sheets dominated most of the room. A massive armoire sat in the corner. Stacks of video games, a game system, a VCR, and a sixty-inch television sat on the floor just outside a door that led to his en suite bathroom. Compared to the rest of the house, his room was a dump.
Aaron glanced over his shoulder and smiled. “Having fun, little sister?”
“Yeah…” An accidental yawn slipped out. She covered her mouth and smiled. “Sure. I’m tired, though. I think I’m gonna go to bed, okay?”
It was three in the morning. Watching boys play video games wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Sleep was creeping in.
Aaron nodded.
Renée got up to leave.
“Goodnight,” Aaron called out to her before she exited the room.
She turned around.
Aaron grinned like the cat that ate the canary. “Every day, I enjoy having a little sister more and more.”
Giovanni and Jason waved.
Attributing the odd, sort of flipping sensation filling her stomach to the combination of macaroni and cheese and wine from dinner earlier, she turned and left the room.
Renée couldn’t sleep. She left Aaron’s room because she was tired. But once she was in bed, her body didn’t shut down as she expected. Listening to buttons clicking and electronic video game sounds for hours on end made it impossible for her to handle the quiet now thrust upon her. If counting sheep helped, she’d do it, but prior experience told her all that did was make her think about sheep and sheep facts.
Minutes stretched into an hour, and sleep still hadn’t claimed her. The thought of getting up crossed her mind at the exact moment the door that connected her side of the house to the library creaked. Whispering voices wafted in through the opening in the two-sided fireplace.
“Hey, close that door,” Aaron whispered.
A second later, a door slammed closed.
“Shh…” Aaron shushed someone. “I said close it, not slam it.”
“What if she isn’t asleep?” she heard Jason ask in a whisper.
“Look through the fireplace,” Aaron ordered. “Is her back turned toward you or the wall?”
Renée didn’t understand where the instinct came from, but something told her to flip toward the wall. She’d never been afraid of Aaron or his friends, but right now, that weird feeling churned in her stomach. She flipped toward the wall.
“What does it matter?” The question came from Giovanni’s already quiet voice.
She wanted the answer to that question, too.
“A lot,” Aaron stressed. “If her back is facing the wall, she isn’t fully asleep. If her back is facing you, she’s dead to the world.”
“How do you know that?” Giovanni asked.
“I’ve been watching her since she got here,” Aaron bragged. “She does the same thing every night. I had my mom get her this little peach tank top and shorts set to sleep in. She wears it all the time.”
Statue-still on the outside, on the inside, Renée was an iceberg, chilled to the core, frozen solid. A shiver rolled down her spine. She had on the peach pajamas.
Why would he watch her?
“I wish she was awake. This would be so much better if she were awake.” Lowering his voice more than it already was, Jason added, “And if you two weren’t here.”
The last part didn’t sound as if he meant it to be heard by the others, and by the way they went on, they didn’t seem to hear it. She did.
“Told you she was tiny, huh?” Aaron gloated.
Fear-induced tremors rocked her inside, but on the outside, she remained immobile. There was no way out of this. They had her. Most kids would scream. Two black eyes, a sprained ankle, and a set of broken ribs ago, she learned screaming didn’t help.
Why did the bad people always find her? No matter where she was or how good she tried to be, bad things found her. Tears burned behind her tightly shut eyelids. She would not cry, ever.
“She is so cute… The way she sat there watching us play the game.” She’d never heard Giovanni speak so much. A small part of her was shocked. “Did you see the look on her face when you put that strip poker game in?”
“I know. She acted jealous when that computerized woman took her clothes off. She didn’t like that our attention wasn’t on her,” Aaron stated.
“I don’t know about that,” Jason drawled. “She was looking at me. I know she thinks I’m cute.”
“She likes us both,” Aaron said. “I heard her on the phone with her little friend.”
They all gave a low, dirty old man chuckle. Renée’s skin crawled. She heard a clapping sound she assumed was them high-fiving. Then came words she’d never forget.
“Let’s make her dreams come true,” Giovanni said.
The smack of bare feet shuffling and moving toward her bedroom seemed louder than average. Renée’s heart pounded. Whether or not she felt she deserved it, this would happen.
As her bedroom door opened, she worked to slow her breathing. Three imposing shadows appeared on the wall in front of her. She shut her eyes again, not as tight as before, so they’d believe her asleep.
In her mind, she repeated the mantra; there’s nothing to fear but fear itself.
Her bedroom door closed, but she wasn’t alone.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Renée gasped, hyperventilated. Scanning her surroundings, she clutched her chest. Still nighttime. Still in the Denali. Light from the gas station lit the truck’s interior. She worked to steady her breathing. Wiped the sweat from her forehead. Hands shaking, she grabbed her prescription bottle out of her purse. She downed two tablets, then returned the bottle to her bag. It was too confined in here. Breathing was impossible.
She got out of the truck; shut the door as lightly as possible behind herself.
Damn! It had gotten colder. Digging her hands into the hoodie’s front pocket, she paced a small distance from the truck. The parking lot was deserted, except for one car near the store’s entrance. No stars presented themselves while she dozed, so it was still dark out. She might need space, but she wasn’t stupid. They were in the middle of nowhere. She wouldn’t wander far.
Finding a precast concrete parking bumper among a copse of trees, Renée sat. Face buried in her hands, she wept silently. Big, fat tears soaked through the sleeves. Moistened her hands.
When would this shit stop? No matter how old she got, thoughts of brothers always elicited nightmares of Aaron, and what he did, his betrayal, which was why she couldn’t just forgive Drew. There was nothing fair about how she treated Drew for his one misstep after a million right ones. But she’d once given her trust to a “brother,” and he’d violated her.
God, she wanted to be better. Be over this stupid shit so she could hold on to one good and pure thing in her life. She tried to be good, pure. And Aaron and his friends had stolen that from her. She was damaged. Eternally fucking damaged.
“Hey, you shouldn’t be out here alone,” advised a deep accented voice.
Maybe he’d go away if she didn’t respond. No way would she risk saying anything and revealing her husky, tear-laden voice or looking up and showing him her watery eyes.
“Amazing. Have I finally found a way to shut you up?” Chris laughed. “No snarky comeback for me—shocking.” He kicked her booted foot.
Renée remained silent. Let him figure out how unwanted his presence was—
Whoa!
She was weightless.
Renée flung her arms around Chris’s neck as he lifted her. He sat on the cement block, cradling her in his lap. For reasons unbeknownst to her, him being so not Chris, undid her. She sobbed into his cloth-covered chest. Sniffed his musky cologne and uniquely Chris scent.
“Shh… Renée,” he crooned, attempting to soothe her. He stroked her ponytail. Patted her back. “What’s wrong? It’s okay. What’s wrong? Talk to me, please.”
Like she would ever tell him, the king of self-absorption. She wouldn’t ever tell anyone. What Aaron, Giovanni, and Jason had taken from her was her shame. Her dirty secret.
“I-I…” she stammered between sobs, “can’t. I-I-I don’t want to talk about it. I’m… sor-ry… lemme go.”
Although she asked to be released, she clutched his sweater. Tears continued to flow. She wiped her nose on her sleeve. How embarrassing. Once again, she’d fallen apart in front of the one person she couldn’t stand—sort of. Shit! The lines were blurring. Renée rested her head on his shoulder. Damn, he felt good. Calmed her in ways no one else ever had or could.
“Shh… Renée.” Chris kissed her forehead. Rubbed his nose on the top of her hair. “You’re breaking my heart, baby. It’s okay. You can tell me. What’s wrong?”
“No”—sniffle—“Get… off… me. Let me go,” she demanded, stronger.
“Let me help you?” Chris asked.
Renée felt his eyes on her but refused to meet his gaze. She looked a hot mess. Not that she cared what Chris thought, she just didn’t like anyone seeing her broken.
“I let you cry all over my sweater,” Chris teased, rocking her. “The least you can do is let me help you.”
She burst into laughter through her tears. Leave it to Chris to say something arrogant amid her emotional breakdown. It made her laugh, though, but she was the only one.
Chris was quiet. Maybe he was serious about her ruining his shirt.
Renée glanced into eyes that had gone stormy. Something unreadable sparked in their depths. His eyes searched hers. She was helpless to look away. His nostrils flared as he breathed. Of its own accord, her head raised in an invitation she wasn’t sure she meant to extend. He moved in. Crushed firm lips to hers.
Renée sighed. Melted. Gave in. Her fingers tiptoed up to his nape, tunneled through his hair. Butterfly wings fluttered in her stomach. With every brush of his firm yet smooth lips against hers, desire ripped through her like a lit match. Her lips parted on what she’d like to think would have been a protest. His tongue slid into her mouth, waylaying any objection. The duel that ensued between their questing tongues was as fiery as one of their arguments. Chris tasted fresh, minty. She was lost…
A car door closed.
Renée broke away. Chris’s arms tightened around her as if he never wanted to let go. She turned her head. He grabbed her chin, tried to force her face back toward his.
“Don’t,” Renée said, shaking off his hold. “What are you doing?”
“That wasn’t anybody we know,” he assured, again trying to turn her toward him.
The moment died, as it should have. What the hell had gotten into her? Grief was a tricky business.
Chris heaved a loud sigh. His hold loosened. “Sorry. I was just trying to…help.”
Renée jumped to her feet. She sat on the asphalt in front of him, knees raised and pulled the humongous sweatshirt over her upraised knees and legs. “It’s cool, Fabio. We’ll chalk that up to temporary insanity,” she said, chuckling and wiping under her eyes with her thumbs.
“Why does it have to be insanity?” he asked, harsher than she expected. His features pinched.
Brows furrowed, she blinked, confused, several times. Renée shook her head. “What else could it be?”
Chris’s eyes narrowed. He glared daggers. “Nothing. I guess.”
They watched each other in silence.
What did she say? This was Christopher Clark. She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t noticed something brewing between them since he’d been at the house, but it was Chris. Head in the sand, never seeing the world outside himself, Chris. Women passed through his world like water through cupped hands. He might hold on to them for a minute, but they slipped through the cracks. How serious could he be? He rejoiced in the uncomplicated.
Renée was anything but uncomplicated. A fling between them would lead nowhere good and jeopardize his friendship with Andrew. If she were honest, she didn’t know why he’d wasted precious womanizing time coming on this trip.
“Why did you come with us instead of going home?” she asked, breaking their silent standoff.
He shrugged. “Why not? I’ve never been outside of Arizona. I had vacation time from the gym. Drew invited me, so why not?” Chris ran his fingers through his multi-hued blond hair.
She rolled her eyes, proving her suspicion. Everyone knew why they were traveling to Indiana. They grasped the seriousness on some level. Not Chris. It was a vacay for him. A way to escape boredom. Fuck what it meant to her.
“So, what’s this thing you have with Lex?”
“What?” Flinching in shock, she chuckled. “There’s no thing with Lex!”
Chris wrung his hands, gazed at the ground before looking at her. The harsh set of his jaw showed his seriousness. “Yes, there is. Your face lights up when you talk about him. Even right now, when I just mentioned him, you smiled, grinned, like you won the fuckin’ lottery. You hang all over him. I’ve never seen you like that with anyone. You guys got something going?”
“What?” Renée fought hard not to gag, but didn’t quite keep the disgust off her face. “Are you serious?” She smirked. “He’s like a brother to me. I’ve known him forever.”
“How’s he any different than I am? I’ve been around just as long.”
“I never said he was.”
Chris studied her. Manscaped brows nearly touched. “But we kissed? Does that mean something happened with you and Lex, too, then?”
Okay. Understanding bloomed… Chris was jealous. Gazing almost endearingly at him, she gentled her tone. “Chris, I don’t think of you as a brother.”
He smiled wide, an indention appearing in one cheek. Straight, white, even teeth were a stark contrast to his tanned skin.
“You’re too pretty,” she finished. “I think of you more like a sister.”
His smile morphed into a grimace.
Renée laughed.
“If that’s true, then you just had one hell of an incestuous, lesbian moment with your sister. Your fruity Mentos taste is still on my tongue.”
“Funny,” she remarked.
Chris stood, closing the distance between them. Feeling disadvantaged, Renée untucked her sweatshirt from around her legs and stood. She dusted off her butt. They stared into one another’s eyes. She felt as if Chris saw into her soul. Read her secret thoughts.
“I don’t want you to think of me as a sister,” he said, voice lower, resonant, “and I don’t want you to think of me as a brother or a friend.” He slipped an arm around her waist. Yanked her body flush against his. “I just want you to think of me… ’cuz I think about you. A lot.”
If the bulge pressed into her stomach indicated anything, Renée knew his mind well. She took one giant step back, out of his reach. He let her go, which disappointed her. She’d been cold before but felt on fire now. Chris and his mild southern drawl did unacceptable things to her. Made her want to believe the empty words of a player. Yuck!
She stared at nowhere in particular above his head, avoiding eye contact. “Chris, I know right now you think you want me, but I don’t think you know what you want. I’m not one of your groupies or conquests. I’m your best friend’s sister. Other than that, you don’t know me. And even if you did, whatever you want... you wouldn’t want it from me.”
