Delayed, Nathan Kingsly [read aloud txt] 📗

“I’d never hit you. Hitting women is a coward’s sport, and I don’t care to know the rules.”

“Your tone implies you know something about it. Is that what the phone call was about? Did someone hurt Mia? That's her name, right?”

Looking down, I uncurl my hand, hissing in pain. When I look back, Emma’s eyes are still lasers. “Yeah, someone hurt her, but I didn’t have to use my fists to do it.”

Her stare didn’t falter, as if she's prepared for my confession. I expect her to say something, anything. Instead, she releases my hand and walks around me. With a hand replacing hers on the washcloth, I follow her with my eyes then with my body when she leaves the bathroom. She’s silent as she sits on the edge of the bed and stares down the opposite wall.

How in the hell am I supposed to interpret this? Is this her way of pouting? Recalling our conversation, I can't find where I’d gone wrong, but it still left me wondering if I should apologize.

“Did you lie?”

“What?” Jutting my chin, I wait for an accusation.

Tilting her head, she peers through her lashes at me. “I’d understand if you did.” She shrugs and returns her stare to the wall. “Being trapped in this storm probably seemed like a good excuse.”

Opening my mouth to ask what she was getting at, it dawns on me. “Is this where you tell me I’m being  predictable.”

Her head whips around, her beautiful eyes wide. “So ...”

“But, you’d be wrong. Mia is my sister.”

With pink cheeks, she licks her lips. “Sorry, it seemed to fit.”

“I’m not going to fit the cookie-cutter shape you believe every man you’ve met to be. I know we hardly know one another, but give me some credit.”

“I know, and I’m sorry, but what I don’t understand is how you hurt your sister? You’ve been here, with me.”

Clenching my jaw, I take a deep breath and let it out. “That’s a long story.”

“According to the news, they have a lot of clean up on the roads, and our plane doesn't leave until tomorrow morning, so we’ve got time.”

Shaking my head, I respond, “It’s not your problem.”

“I stepped between something here. Won’t you let me help?”

“There’s nothing you can do.”

“Are you sure?” She raises an eyebrow and pats the spot next to her on the bed. “Having a woman's take may make all the difference.”

When I sit next to her, the words don’t spill out. In fact, for a long time, all that's heard is the light rain hitting the window and the low hum of the air conditioner. At some point, she leans her head onto my shoulder, her breathing coming and going from her lungs, soothing. Then word by sentence then spilled paragraphs, I tell someone the truth of my past, and it’s as fresh as if it's happening again.

“It was winter break in my last year of college. Usually, I went back to work to help pay my tuition, so it was a surprise to my family when I came home for a visit. My mom was so happy to see me. My dad … ” Voice cracking, I push on when her hand goes through the crook of my elbow and squeezes my bicep.

“Son, it’s great to see you. It’ll be nice to hear something other than how your mom wants you to come home for the holidays.”

Mom throws the towel that she has in her hand, “Harold James.” She reprimands, but when he surprises her by taking her in his arms, she’s already laughing as he attempts to steal a kiss.

“Uh, do I need to go back to school already? I’m sure I can start next semester's syllabus at my dorm.”

“Don’t be silly,” Mom says as she attempts to push dad away. “Dinner is almost ready.” After giving dad one more kiss on the lips, she turns back to the stove, and my dad walks over, putting an arm over my shoulder.

“My dad was happy to see me. We talked about how school was going, and when mom came in from cooking dinner, we ate. I remember laughing a lot that night.”

“Where was Mia?” Emma whispers.

“At a friend's house.”

“But it was Christmas.”

“Not quite, a few days before. She came home often while she was in school, so it was part of her usual routine. Visiting with friends, with our parents, then back to school. My visit disrupted the normal, and I suppose that’s why he didn’t expect me.”

“He? Your dad?”

I shake my head.

“I’m going to my car.”

“Okay, hun.” Mom calls from the kitchen. She and dad are cleaning the dishes together like they always do.

I asked my dad once why he helped her even after she insisted she could do it. He replied that it was another excuse to be around her.

Not bothering to shut the door, leaving it ajar so I can get back inside with my luggage and presents I’d brought, I hit the button to unlock my car. Going to the driver’s side, I pop the release for the trunk. Grabbing all the gift bags in one hand and the duffle in the other, I slam the trunk closed with my elbow and head back towards the house.

“I was almost at the door when I heard it.” My hands shake, and I throw the washcloth across the room. “I was gone only a minute. If I had waited or not gone to my car, I could have stopped it.” Leaning forward, I cradle my head, my hands digging into my scalp, pulling at my hair. Squeezing my eyes shut, the scene continues to play endlessly in my mind.

“What happened, Liam? What did you hear?” Her hand grips me harder, and her thumb rubs over my skin like a windshield wiper.

My eyes pop open, but the floor isn’t what I see. Instead, I see red.

I drop to the ground; the presents crush underneath me. I peer around and see no one; then another shot