Dannika Dark - Seven Years

April held her thumb and pinky finger up to her face in that universal “you’ve got a phone call” gesture.

“Now what?” I murmured. My stomach knotted because nobody called me this late. It was well known I was probably the only twenty-something living in Austin without a cell phone. But hey, I never liked being accessible.

“Who is it?” I asked, walking past her to the counter. We had one of those ancient rotary phones, except ours had push buttons. Charlie, our boss, liked the retro look. There were small touches throughout the store and customers often shared memories of things they remembered from their own childhoods.

April eased up to the counter, blatantly eavesdropping to her heart’s content.

“Hello?”

“Lexi, it’s me. Let’s talk.”

The asshole.

“We don’t talk anymore, remember?” I bit out. Not since Beckett had cheated on me with another woman, in my car.

My car.

I’d put the car up for sale two days ago and hadn’t received a single inquiry. The thought of driving it made my stomach boil, and the memory of catching them having sex in it was unbearable. The whole thing was still fresh in my mind. Beckett’s Mustang had been in the shop, so I’d lent him my car. One night, a friend of mine swung by Sweet Treats and I asked her if she could give me a lift to the bar where Beckett worked. I wanted to surprise him and play a little air hockey until his shift ended.

We pulled into the parking lot of Ducky’s Dive, and as we passed my car, I yelled out for her to hit the brakes. It looked like a shadow was moving around inside, so I stuck my face up to the window. I saw Beckett stretched against the back seat with a brunette straddling him and riding him like a pony.

Oh yeah, it was over.

But not as over as when he saw me and panic flooded his eyes. I relished that moment, because it was the one that had “busted” written all over it. But that cheap little whore saw me and rode him even harder. He didn’t push her away because he wanted to finish off. He later claimed it was out of his control—that you simply cannot take a man to the edge of ecstasy and expect him to stop.

Whatever.

“Lexi, I’m two blocks away and we’re going to talk. It’s been two months and I think I’ve suffered enough.”

“Suffered?” I exclaimed. “Are you kidding me? You had sex with Rhoda, for God’s sake.”

Rhoda had been given the nickname “Rhoda Commoda” because she’d take her conquests into the bathroom and have sex in a stall.

“That woman’s had sex with every man this side of Texas. And you did it in the back seat of my car,” I reminded him. “This breakup isn’t a temporary thing until I get over being pissed off at you, Beckett. We’re over. As in, over and out.”

I slammed the phone down and lifted my purse over my shoulder. “I have to go, he’s on his way,” I said in a hurried voice, jogging out the door.

The engine of his electric-blue Mustang was gunning down the road so ferociously that I took off in a mad dash to my car. My coffee-colored hair tangled in the summer wind, and I stumbled in my new white sneakers, dropping my keys on the pavement. Just as I bent down, the front end of his car vaulted off the concrete as he jumped the curb. He had barely put it in park when the door swung open.

“Lexi, come on. Don’t be pissed.”

Any words in my mouth disintegrated and turned into kindling for the fire raging inside me. I wanted to open my mouth and spit out a fireball, singeing all the pretty blond hairs on his oversized head. His arms stretched wide—large arms, because he bench-pressed free weights—and I felt corralled like a horse.

“Get out of my way.”

“Look,” he said calmly, “I know why you’re upset. Your brother—”

“You don’t know a damn thing about my brother; you never met him!” I screamed, pointing my finger. “Don’t you dare wave my past at me like some kind of party trick that’s going to make me vulnerable so you can try to smooth things over. You lied to me, cheated on me, and had sex in my car!”

“Dammit, Lexi, I’ll buy you a new fucking car if that’s the deal.”

A hard sigh flew out of my mouth and I walked around him. He grabbed my arm and I shoved him away. “Let go,” I said, fuming. “I’m warning you, Beckett. You do not want to mess with me tonight.”

His jaw clenched and he surrendered, holding up his hands. “Fine. But we’re going to talk,” he said slowly, meaningfully, in a way that said we both knew this wasn’t over.

“Fine,” I lied. It wasn’t fine, and we were definitely over.

April lingered by the door, cupping her elbows with a wistful look in her eyes that expressed her desire for a man who would tear up his prized vehicle to stop her from running away. She didn’t mind about the cheating part and had once declared that no man could be faithful to just one woman. I wasn’t having much luck disproving her theory, but I wanted to believe integrity and honor existed. Her acceptance of that lie would only make her a doormat for love. Never expect anything less than devotion from someone who has claim on your heart.

That’s why I cut Beckett off like a malignant mole.

The key slid in the lock and the cheap vinyl creaked when I sat on it. I glanced in the rearview mirror at the back seat and shuddered. Memories infiltrated my mind like a plague and I throttled the engine, threw her into gear, and eased up on the clutch.

The car lurched and died.

God, the embarrassment. I could see Beckett laughing in the mirror and I flicked a hot gaze at him. After two years, I still fought with that stupid clutch. Beckett had bought the car as a surprise and I’d had no say-so in selecting it. We’d argued for a week while he tried to teach me to drive a standard.

“I hate you,” I grumbled, finally speeding away.

I didn’t know if that was true or not, but I’d never get over what he did to me. Not when memories of him holding me at night and telling me there was no other girl were still fresh on my mind. Women flirted with him all the time at the bar because he was the bouncer with all the muscles. But when I was there, he only had eyes for me.

Apparently, his dick had eyes for someone else.

When I showed up at my mom’s house the next morning, it felt like the funeral all over again. The yellow sun glimmered off the black mailboxes, and a light breeze knocked some of the hot pink blooms off the crepe myrtle trees. It created the fantasy of a summer snowfall, and I stood on the cracked sidewalk staring at the front yard, remembering the tire swing that used to hang from the oak tree on the right side of the lawn. Wes had loved spinning me around on that thing until I got dizzy. Sometimes I could still hear his laugh.

The door swung open and little Maizy came dashing out of the house in a bright yellow dress that was three shades darker than her hair. “Lexi! Lexi!”

As soon as she made it to me, her exuberant face tightened with all kinds of excitement. Her blue eyes widened with anticipation when she saw my right arm curved behind my back.

I bent over and whispered in her ear, “Don’t tell Mom.” As soon as I brought my hand around, she grabbed the bag of assorted candy, giggled, gave me a kiss on the cheek, and stuffed it inside the top of her dress. I snorted, following close behind as she ran back inside.

Maizy was the result of my brother’s passing. Sometimes good things come out of tragic events, and she reminded us of that every day. I’d never seen a child so full of life and happiness as my Maze. Our parents weren’t very sprightly to be dealing with a new baby, but they’d had Weston when mom was sixteen, so they weren’t that old. The pregnancy came not long after his death, and Mom called Maizy her little miracle baby because five months later, she had a medical scare and underwent a hysterectomy.

“Mom,” I called out, “I’m here.”

“Yes, I just saw my well-endowed six-year-old dash into her bedroom and thought as much,” she said, coming out of the kitchen. “I’m going to assume that’s a bag of candy tucked in her dress and not an early growth spurt.”

She was wearing a dark blue dress with a black belt and a silver necklace I gave her two years ago on her birthday. Mom had been lightening her shoulder-length hair since it started going grey and put it in rollers at night so it would hold a curl. We were close to the same height but looked nothing alike. I hadn’t inherited her generous cup size or her Montana-blue eyes.

“You really need to stop bringing that girl candy. I’m too old to be chasing after her when she’s all sugared up.”

I kissed her cheek and breezed into the kitchen. “Oh come on, Mom. She just turned six. Who else is going to spoil her if not her big sis?”

Her kitchen had pale blue tile on the floor and a matching backsplash behind the sink. The cabinets were red oak and lined the wall above the counter all the way to the window on the left. Mom loved blue and the kitchen looked like a bluebird’s nest. Tiny vines branched out across the wallpaper like an enchanted forest, but everything else was accented in blue, including the knitted toaster cover she’d bought at a craft fair. I reached in the fridge and grabbed a bottle of cold water.

“Lexi, it’s just going to be us today.”

I stared at the counter. “Why?”

“Your grandparents put their foot down.” Mom sighed deeply, painfully. “I had a long talk with your grandma and she said it’s too difficult and they don’t want to relive this every year.”