Creed (Unfinished Hero #2)(79)

“Later, Sylvie.”

“Later, babe.”

I got up on tiptoe, he bent for me and I touched my mouth to his.

When I pulled back, his eyes were looking deep into mine and I could see the light in them, happiness and hope in his rugged, scarred features, the feeling I felt in my soul reflected in his face, a look he just told me I gave back.

Yeah, I was addicted.

Totally.

And so was Creed.

Then again, that was always the way.

And, hope to God, it always would be.

Chapter Eighteen

My Whole World

A cold winter evening in Kentucky, seventeen years earlier, Creed is twenty-two, Sylvie is seventeen…

Once I heard him get her down, I stole out of Creed’s bedroom, down the hall and cautiously looked around the corner into the empty living room. I didn’t enter it until I saw Creed walk in and, at the look on his face, I took a deep breath and moved into the room.

His angry eyes came to me.

I bit my lip, let it go and asked, “How is she?”

“Drunk and f**kin’ passed out. The usual. How do you think she’d f**kin’ be?”

I bit my lip again and took a deep breath before I moved to him.

Our evening had been interrupted by a call from the Sheriff telling Creed to come and get his Momma. She was smashed, as usual, making a ruckus, as usual and, before the Sheriff was forced to arrest her, Creed had to do something about it. So he hauled himself out to his truck and did something about it.

As usual.

This happened at least once a week.

Luckily, my father was working a lot, out of town on business, the stepmonster mostly didn’t know I existed and Winona usually started drinking early so I could be there often and stay late for Creed.

I was walking toward him when Creed, his eyes still angry, his tall body still tense, stated, “Saw Dixon.”

I didn’t know what this meant, I only knew the way he said it didn’t mean good things so I stopped.

“Jason?” I asked, with his eyes on me like that, I felt stupid and also like I sounded stupid.

“Yeah, Jason,” he spit out Jason’s name. “Not old enough to drink there but anywhere in the county they’ll serve a Dixon just like they’d serve a Bissenette.”

Oh boy.

Not this again.

We were making plans. When I turned eighteen, we were going to leave. That day, my birthday. Gone.

But Creed had problems with what I would give up when we were gone. He was putting away money, saving it as best he could on his salary while having to take care of his Mom. Even so, he knew and I knew that what we would have when we started out wouldn’t be what I had now.

I didn’t care, not even a little bit. I just wanted a dog as soon as we could afford to have one. The rest, just having Creed, I knew I would have all I would need.

Creed didn’t believe me. He was sure I’d miss my car, my pool, the horses, the allowance Daddy gave me. He kept telling me it wouldn’t be months, it would be years before he could give anything like that to me. He promised… no, vowed I’d have it back one day but it would take a while before he could give it to me.

He felt it would be a devastating loss for me, I knew he did because he talked about it all the time. He wanted to make sure I was sure. He wanted to make sure I wouldn’t think, one day, I’d made a mistake.

But there was more.

Since his Dad died, he’d lived a long time being Winona’s son. It was crazy but he didn’t think he was good enough for me and me giving up all I had would make me realize it too.

Nothing I said made him understand that was totally crazy. So I had decided just to show him. He’d get it eventually.

I hoped.

“Creed –”

Creed cut me off, “Doesn’t know you’re mine. No one knows you’re mine. Was closin’ in on hammered, braggin’ about doin’ you. Braggin’ about a Dixon finally nailin’ a Bissenette. Braggin’ a lot and doin’ it loud.”

I felt my neck get tight and my shoulders straighten as I asked quietly, “Are you joking?”

“Do I look like I’m jokin’?”

No, he absolutely did not.

“Why would he do that?” I asked.

“Don’t know. Maybe because he’s a dick. Or maybe because he nailed you,” Creed answered.

At that, my neck got so tight, I felt the muscles would snap at the same time I felt my stomach tie itself in a knot.

“Now, please, tell me you’re joking,” I whispered my plea.

He didn’t answer my plea. He asked crudely, “He do you, Sylvie?”

I shook my head and was still whispering when I replied, “I’m going to pretend you didn’t ask that.”

“Don’t, beautiful, not until you answer me.”

I kept shaking my head, the hurt beginning to dig deep. “Don’t call me that when you’re angry.”

“Don’t avoid the question and f**kin’ answer me,” he retorted.

I stared at Creed and he stared right back.

When I felt the tears prick my eyes, I turned to go back to his room to get my coat and purse and I did this muttering, “I’m leaving.”

I didn’t make it. In the hall, Creed caught my arm and pulled me around to face him.