Chapter Nine: Break Free
That evening, after Lissie and Charlie had gone to bed, I stayed in the kitchen with Mom and Tara, surprising the both of us, stayed as well.
"So where's Daddy?" I asked, when the conversation lagged.
"Oh, outside somewhere. He's shooting hoops with Uncle John," explained Mom.
"How long have you known Uncle John?" I asked.
"Just about our whole lives, I guess. I even dated him for a while," said Mom, smirking.
"So that's why Daddy sometimes looks at him as though he's going to murder him," said Tara thoughtfully.
"That would be it. But that was a thousand years ago," said Mom comfortingly.
"Before he and Tess..?"
"Of course. Months before. Oh, that's him now, I think," said Mom, turning her head when the front door opened and Daddy came in.
He came into the kitchen to join us, still clad in his basketball jersey and a pair of shorts. Tara and I automatically turned away while he moved to Mom.
Out of the corner of my eye I could see them press together and kiss gently.
"Gross, you're all sweaty. Get off," she said, her voice teasing. They stayed together.
"Come on, I haven't seen you all day," he said lightly. He pressed up against her again.
Tara and I sprang onto our feet when suddenly she screamed and began to struggle against him. He instantly let go and she moved backwards several feet, cowering in the corner.
"Get off, you're hurting me…" she said, over and over. When Daddy tried to approach her again, she screamed as she had before.
The two of us watched, struck with horror, when he finally reached her and began to gently take her back into his arms, whispering soothingly.
When it became clear that this would not be enough, he lifted her into his arms and the two disappeared upstairs. After ten minutes he came back down-ten minutes in which Tara and I had said nothing to each other, each picturing horrible scenarios about what had just gone on in our own kitchen.
We sat back down again when Daddy came to sit at the table and folded his arms, looking grave.
"I guess you want to know what just happened?" he asked eventually. I nodded, but Tara spoke.
"It was about my father, wasn't it?" she asked, her voice small and toneless. Daddy stared at her for a moment, the pain in his face obvious.
"It was about Mark Delaurier, yes. Your Mom will always suffer from that," he said.
"Did she ever do therapy?" I asked.
"Yes, a while ago, but it might have been too late and it can only do too much," he said. His face was indescribable, a mix of anger and sadness.
"Whatever happened to him?" I asked, adroitly avoiding my sister's gaze.
"I kicked his ass, we sued him, got a restraining order, he moved away for college. Haven't heard from him since, save a couple phone calls," said Daddy.
"Does he know about me?" asked Tara. Dad stared at her for a moment, taking in the child that was of his wife and not him, an ever present reminder of the pain of the past.
"I don't know. He's got to know you exist, but I doubt he knows that… and anyway, I officially adopted you so he has no claim to you," said Daddy comfortingly. Tara looked far from comforted. She was nearly eighteen. Legal matters no longer mattered for much.
The next day, Monday, Tara stood stalwartly by my side the entire day, ignoring the puzzled stars of everyone else who saw us as two completely different people who only interacted as seldom as possible.
Neither of us mentioned the incident in the kitchen, and we tried our best to make the day as normal as possible.
It was harder when she and Aidan went together off to their first period class, and I had to fend for myself again. That was the biggest problem with having Aidan as one of my best friends, and with growing closer to Tara-for most of the day, they were off doing Senior things and I had to stay with my sophomore friends.
But sophomores weren't my focus when I ran into Will for the first time that day. I had so nearly escaped having to see him-school had ended ten minutes previously and I had planned to run out as quickly as possible so I couldn't go home and cry about my day.
I stopped short when I saw his black mustang in front of me. He rolled down the window and stared at me for a moment before speaking.
"Get in," he said simply. I bravely stood my ground and matched his stare.
"I'm not going anywhere with you," I said coolly. I took an involuntary step backward as his stare suddenly turned into a fiercer look.
"Get in," he said again. Quelled by the look on his face, I reluctantly climbed into the passenger seat of his car and we drove away.
"What do you want?" I asked listlessly.
"I want for us to not be like this," he said.
"Why not? We're not attached. You got sex and know you don't have to worry about romance. All gain and no pain, my friend," I said scathingly.
"Maybe I want more than the sex!" he said.
"I've known you for fifteen years Hunter. And I know what you want," I said.
"Apparently you don't know me well enough," he said. I shrieked in surprise when he suddenly jerked the car to a stop, leaned across the car, tilted my stubbornly forward facing face to meet his, and kissed me. A steamy, passionate kiss that immediately made me reach for him, despite my better judgement.
"I know what I want, Jordan Scott, but what the hell is it that you want?" he asked. Looking out the window, I realized we were only five minutes from my house. I grabbed my bag and leapt out of his car, ignoring him when he called after me.
But somehow, mysteriously, I didn't end up at my house. I ended up three blocks away, at the expansive Hunter residence. His car was parked in the driveway.
Not bothering to knock, I pushed open the door, ran upstairs to his bedroom and encountered him sitting on his bed. He arose swiftly when I entered but I ran to him, kissed him and we fell back on the bed again.
"I knew you'd…" he began, smirking between kisses.
"Shut up," I ordered, my hands already preparing to pull his shirt over his head.
We were still kissing, taking it slower than we had the first time, when Will's eyes took on a panicked, nervous look. Swinging my hair around, my eyes immediately encountered a figure in the doorway: tall, dark haired, dimples nowhere to be seen. Aidan.
He walked off again before I could say a word. I looked up at Will-we'd switched places-and stared into his eyes again. He was hot. There was no denying it-dark blonde hair, a small silver hoop through is earlobe, slight scruffiness to his swarthy face. But he was no more than hot. And I swiftly realized that I needed more than hot.
I pushed him off me and ran outside. Aidan was walking away, on the far side of he walkway to the Hunter's house. I ran to meet him, and touched his shoulder when he failed to respond to my calls.
"It doesn't mean anything to me," I promised. I was on a step, higher ground than him, but still I had to look up to meet his eyes.
"It's you're choice to make," he said, looking away from me.
"Aidan, look at me," I pleaded. He didn't. I touched my hand to his cheek and his eyes turned on me, instantly responded to my caress.
"What do you want?" he asked. I realize why he was angry in an instant.
"It's not him I want," I promised. We met eyes. "I want you."