Devil's Despair: Travis's Stand Part 28

"I don't know that I can tell you, Sarah. It's all so f.u.c.king jumbled in my head. The nightmares, what may or may not have happened. I was too young. I can't f.u.c.kin' remember. I don't know what to remember."

Hayden never shared this either. I understand, though. It wasn't his story to tell. Resting my hands on Trav's as they sit at my waist, I say to the room, "I'll read Bean's letter."

"I want that for you," he tells me, kissing the crown of my head. Exhaling through his words, relief surrounds us. "This is all so f.u.c.ked up. What do I do with this place?"

"I don't know, Travis. That's your decision to make."

"I can't make it."

"Then don't."

A few long, drawn-out minutes of silence pa.s.s before Trav starts talking.

"I was hungry," he starts and I lean my head on his broad shoulder, closer to his words so I don't miss them. "My dad was gone. He was out of town looking for work. My mom and I had been home that morning. She was a good mom until that day, as far as I remember, I guess."

I squeeze his hand for comfort, and to let him know I'm listening and that he has my full attention.

"Something happened to her. I remember she was making me breakfast in our kitchen and she came to stand in front of me at the couch. I think I remember her wearing a dress at the time. It was short. Short enough that I know now, it shouldn't have been worn out of the house."

Now I understand why Travis hates what I wear.

"She fell to the ground and I didn't understand what was happening." He falls silent, so I wait until he continues. "I don't know how much time had pa.s.sed before I heard the sound of what I thought at the time, was a train pulling up in the driveway of the trailer we lived in. I remember being so scared I hid in the first place I thought of. It was a small kitchen cabinet under the sink. It smelled like her cleaning supplies."

He takes a breath, kisses the back of my head and then places his forehead back on my shoulder. His body hasn't stopped trembling.

"There was a loud knock at the door then a man broke through it and came inside."

I answered the door when Devon came to hurt me. Trav was drunk and pa.s.sed out in his room, unable to help.

"Did you know him?" I ask, breaking my silence for the first time since he started talking.

"No. I don't know if this is even real, Sarah. I don't know if I'm remembering this or if it's a nightmare. That's what scares me. If it's not real, why does it keep coming back?"

"I don't know."

"The man was yelling at her so I cracked the cabinet and looked out of it while he did. I felt like I had already been in there for days. I remember how bad I wanted my dad. The man with my mom called someone and then. . . ."

He stops, so I ask, "What? And then what?"

"Doesn't matter," he answers, lifting me by my waist. I move my legs and stand in front of him. "Let's go."

"Travis." I grab his arm to stop him from walking away as soon as he stands. "You said Lacey."

"It doesn't matter."

"It does."

"It doesn't!" he bellows and I sink back, nervous and scared I'm causing more damage.

Hearing my intake of breath, Trav steps closer and grabs my waist, pulling me to him. His arms come around me, and he holds on tight, tighter than I've ever remembered him doing.

"Let's go. I want to go back."

"Okay," I tell him, still allowing him to hold on tight.

Once we made it out of the house, Trav's body lost its tension and the drive back to the beach was quiet. He drove home.

I let him have his silence on the way back, but his hand never left mine until we made it to the house. Travis didn't talk about what he'd done or what I'd witnessed. He didn't talk about his mom anymore either. I could've pried, but I wanted to give him s.p.a.ce.

Once we made it back to the bedroom, though, Travis made love to my body like he had never done before. He was a.s.sertive, pa.s.sionate, and even while moving inside me, I could tell this was his way of finding his way back to a better place.

The rest of the night we spent as we did the first two days, lying wrapped in each other and living in the moments before we had to go home and face the others.

It's no longer the others I fear facing. The ghosts of Trav's past are more of a threat to him than anyone alive could ever be.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

Travis I GOT OUT of bed before Sarah this morning. Not because I woke up earlier, but because I hadn't slept. Even with her incessant rocking, I couldn't rest. She rocked a long while, so I knew she was as restless as I was.

After Sarah took me back to the house I grew up in, I couldn't get the memories out of my head. My dad cleaning his hunting equipment, taking me outside to play catch, explaining to me at the kitchen table how to put together a model airplane, it was all too much.

Physically, I destroyed the only place I've ever known to be my home. Emotionally, it had been torn apart the day he died.

As I lay in bed and watched Sarah sleep, I thought about what to do with his place. I could sell it, keep it, or tear it down. It doesn't matter because it won't ever bring him back.

When I broke down on the living room floor and admitted to her about the nightmares I've had, I felt the tension radiate from her body and spill into the room. She tried to stay calm for me, as best Sarah could, but I couldn't. No matter who you are or what you do, you can't outrun fear. The paralyzing effect of its presence won't be denied.

Although the ache of doubt remained, I also felt an overwhelming relief. My decision not to face my father's house after the funeral had been wrong. In a sense, I had disrespected his memory in trying to forget his presence in my life. Sarah, although acting out of concern for me, caused my mental break, which I already feel I've started healing from.

After I got out of bed, I sat on the covered outside porch of the beach house drinking orange juice and watched the rain fall, landing in scattered puddles around the yard and toward the beach. I let my mind rest for a few minutes before I realized how much time had pa.s.sed and that I needed to get us home. We were facing Ace's reaction later today and after the already emotional evening before, I needed to further clear my head. So I decided to pick up coffee for her, and breakfast for us both. Sarah wakes up better being bribed with coffee and food.

So, after writing her a note and leaving it on my pillow, I kiss her forehead softly, and make my way to the Jeep outside.

Pouring f.u.c.king rain.

Sarah The note on top of Trav's pillow reads: Went to get breakfast. Back in a few minutes.

Bags are packed.

Wake up happy, Sarah. I did.

- T.

Lifting my head from the pillow, I find the clothes Trav laid out for me to wear home. I smile at his old sweats.h.i.+rt, which sits on the dresser next to a pair of my jeans. No underwear in sight.

Figures.

As I lay back in bed I look to the ceiling and close my eyes try to forget seeing Travis in so much pain. Although I remember my own anguish from losing Bean, watching Travis go through his old home, the one he shared with his favorite person, was gutting. Travis still harbors pain and anger. He hasn't yet come to an understanding that his father leaving was an accident. He blames his dad for leaving as if he could've helped it. Travis hates pity, but I'm sorry for him anyway.

As I'm walking around, straightening the rest of the house, I notice Trav's been gone far longer than the few minutes he told me he'd be. The rain outside is. .h.i.tting the windows and the wind is knocking tree tops off balance. The sky is dark, which allows the eeriness to seep in and swallow me in doubt.

I run my fingers over the books on the shelves of Hayden's father's den, and come across some of the cla.s.sics. Old Man in the Sea, Moby d.i.c.k, Tom Sawyer. It's fitting Brian Flynn would own books like these. He was far more cultured than anyone else in my life. I take in a breath of relief as I think how far he and Hayden had come in solidifying their relations.h.i.+p.

I jump as the rain pounds harder and a clap of thunder snaps above the house. Trav's been gone too long. It's been over an hour.

I don't have my cell phone since Trav disposed of it at the beach the way he did. I don't smile at this memory. I'm still too p.i.s.sed about its murder.

Looking outside, I notice a small break in the clouds above and determine I need to call Travis and find out where he's gone. There's got to be a neighbor with a phone around somewhere nearby.

Putting on my shoes and throwing on Trav's sweats.h.i.+rt, I make my way outside, but not before taking a moment to inhale the scent of him on the fabric.

I've only been to the house a couple of times and I don't remember seeing any homes along the way, so I close the door without locking it and make my way up to the road ahead. I decide to take a left.

Walking a short distance, I see a house about the size of Brian's set farther off the road and decide to head to the door to see if someone's there. It's Sunday morning, surely someone's home.

A small, frail, older woman answers before I have to ring the doorbell a second time. She's dressed in a yellow muumuu and looks to be about Bean's age before she died. My heart aches in my chest.

Her small smile invites me in as I explain I've been left at her neighbor's house without a way to reach anyone.

"You kids and your phones," she says, again reminding me of Bean. "I'll fetch my cordless and you can make your call with that."

"Thank you," I tell her, sitting quietly on her old-fas.h.i.+oned fuzzy burgundy couch. I'm thankful the rain stopped or I'd be soaking wet.

Her small lap dog, which she told me was named Champ, sits growling at me in the corner as I wait for her to return. Her cat, a yellow and black bundle of fur, purrs loudly as it stares at me from the chair across from where I'm sitting.

Once she hands me the phone I realize the only number I've ever had memorized is Ace's. Biting my lip, I'm unsure if I should make the call. He'd find out where I am and what we were doing before we have a chance to sit him down and explain. Travis would be p.i.s.sed if I did this without him.

"You gonna make your call, honey?"

"Yeah, I need to, but I don't remember the number."

"Those phones you kids use nowadays are worthless, I tell you."

Clicking the green dial b.u.t.ton out of nervousness, afraid that I'll mentally fall apart in this small woman's presence, I make the call to Ace. He doesn't answer, so I leave a voice mail telling him where I am and what I need. I keep it brief, not giving too much away.

After eating breakfast-chocolate chip cookies and milk-which I found as soothing as I did when I was a kid, the phone rings and the woman quickly answers.

She nods while saying, "Sure, honey. Here she is." The woman smiles briefly and hands me the phone. "It's for you, dear."

I sigh in relief. Whether it's Ace or not, I'd like to talk to someone familiar. The dog still growls quietly as he watches my every move. The cat wandered off minutes ago.

"h.e.l.lo?" I ask into the receiver. I hear a woman choking back a sob. Immediately, I know who it is. I've heard it from Raegan countless time since knowing her.

"Rae? Are you there?"

I hear her gasp on the other end. I clutch the phone in my hand as I hold my breath, waiting for her to say something.

Anything.

Images of Ace lying dead on a cold, hard, steel table infiltrate my mind. Decklan's small body, broken and hurt, come next.

Hayden injured, Lacey crying, Marlee missing . . . all of them one by one play on an endless reel of frightening possibilities. Rae wouldn't be sobbing if she and Ace only had a fight.

"Rae!" I cry.

I feel the hand on my back as the stranger moves in, sensing my stress and sitting next to me for comfort.

"Where are you now?" she whispers in a broken voice that is barely audible.

"Still at Hayden's dad's beach house."

"I'm going to send Toby to come get you."

"No! Where's Travis? I'm waiting for him. I'll go back. . . ."

"He's not coming back to get you, Sarah."

Wake up happy, Sarah. I did.

"No! He didn't change his mind, Rae. He wouldn't have left without me." She may have no confirmation of what I'm talking about, but I do. Travis was always certain of us, more so than me. He wouldn't leave me alone without a phone unless. . . .

Unless he had no choice.

"Accident," I hear Rae utter through a small cry.

"No! No! No!" The phone drops from my hand when my knees. .h.i.t the floor.

"Honey, is there something I can do?"

"He's okay. He's okay. He's okay!" I chant to myself, scared to unleash my panic in front of this stranger.

The woman picks up the phone and listens to whatever Raegan is saying, as I sit with my elbows resting on my knees and my head in my hands.

This is not f.u.c.king happening.

Once I hear the phone disconnect, she reaches over and looks at me with eyes full of heartfelt sympathy. I wait, hoping she'll remind me more of Bean than I had thought, but Bean's wisdom doesn't come from her.

She merely says, "I gave them my address. A gentleman will be here within the hour."