"Of course. People put up with a lot of shit if you tell them you're in therapy. They figure you're trying to get better. Anyway, not only did bottling the hate keep me from murdering my horrible mother and her stupid ass family. I was also able to access that hate when needed. The reason I don't lose fights is because I open the lid on my hate bottle and unleash years of pent-up bitchiness. When I set that shit loose, no one can beat me because I don't care if I live or die. The world gets real simple when you fear nothing."
Bodie leans back on the couch and kicks off her tennis shoes. "So even if I don't actually fight anyone, I can let out a bit of hate and scare the shit out of people. Just like you did with Stanley. Instead of relying on your size to intimidate an opponent, you set loose a little of your saved hate. I suspect you'd scare off just about anyone."
"I don't know how to turn it off," I admit, still wanting to bash in Stanley's face.
"That's the tricky part. You've been bottling up all that rage since you were a kid. Now you know how to unleash it. Calming yourself will be the last obstacle."
"How do you calm yourself?"
"I think of shooting zombies. Cuddling my pets helps too, but I don't bring them with me everywhere. So yeah, mainly it's the zombies thing."
"I don't care about zombies."
"Think happy thoughts. Think of hugging your mommy. I wasn't kidding about fucking Sawyer too. If that makes you happy, think about that. Just find a way to turn off the dark shit, so you can function."
Closing my eyes, I imagine Sawyer and me back in Ellsberg. We're down behind her house, swimming in the river. Her hair gets crazy on humid summer days. I can see her wild curls and feel the heat on my skin. Everything is real enough to touch.
I open my eyes and focus on Bodie. "Let me ask you something. If you knew Stanley was such a nasty fucker who would hurt Sawyer, why would you let them date?"
"You're not really that stupid, are you?"
"Maybe."
"He's a pussycat. A wuss really. Probably talks about his feelings, cuddles after sex, and sleeps in the wet spot. Real lame shit. I just told you the rough sex thing to get you riled up. Feel free to imagine just about anyone fucking her. I suspect it'll work every time."
"I still think he's an asshole."
"As a club guy, he could make your life very complicated. As a boyfriend, he'd likely make Sawyer tear her stupid poodle hair out."
Raging inside, I need to stop thinking about Stanley. Sawyer is waiting for me to let her loose. Imagining how pissed she likely is at me, I only get more agitated.
Sitting next to me, Bodie's clearly thinking of something else. Hell, she might as well leave. As if reading my mind, she stands up and walks out of the room.
Stuck alone in the quiet room, I wish I was back in Ellsberg where I know my place. My mind returns to the last holiday Sawyer and I spent together. Our two families enjoyed dinner at each other's houses. I felt I belonged more that December than I did my entire life. Somehow, I let so much of the happiness slip through my fingers.
Needing to calm down, I don't let myself think about what I've lost. My thoughts remain on that Christmas Eve with Sawyer when I held her in front of the fire. She had spent most of the day tormenting Bailey. Once snuggled against me, she grinned at her sister and nephews nearby.
Sawyer looked at me that night as if I was magic. I never felt so powerful, and the memory washes away my rage at Stanley. Standing up, all I want is for Sawyer to look at me like that again.
Chapter 29
Sawyer
Don't Tell Me What To Do
Watching TV proves to be a big damn waste of time. Nothing interests me, and any half-decent looking guy makes me think of Jace naked. Thinking of him naked reminds me of how I panicked and why I'm handcuffed to the bed. I end up as pissed as when I turned on the TV.
Needing to see Pop, I look through the pictures on my phone. One particular shot is of the entire family. I get sad thinking of Cooper sending Jace to Texas. Did he think we'd get back together? Did he not care one way or another?
Dialing my brother, Cooper answers on the second ring. "Tell me you're coming home," he says instead of hello.
"Jace has me handcuffed to a fucking bedpost, Coop the Poop."
"Good. I hope next he handcuffs you to his Harley and forces you home."
"Why are you being such an asshole?"
"I need you back home."
"Why?"
Cooper sighs. "I miss you."
"Bullshit."
"We had our Sunday lunch with everyone at the house. Farah made her chicken enchiladas. Now bad enough Pop and Mom are gone, but having you gone too is crap. I need you here, Sawyer."
"You really miss me?" I ask, losing the anger in my voice. "That's sweet."
"Tucker is acting weird. Bailey cried yesterday because there were no more chicken wings. Everyone's on edge. We're family, and we should stick together. With you and Mom are out of town, Pop's absence feels more obvious."
Tears sting my eyes. "I miss you too, but I can't go back. It suffocates me there."
Cooper says nothing for a long time, but the silence is comfortable. My brother and I are similar in so many ways. How many times did we sit in silence just like now? I miss that comfort, yet Ellsberg sets off the panic inside me.
"How are Farah and the kids?"
"Good. Miranda got a spelling award at school."
"Tell her congrats from me."