Risk (Gentry Boys #2)(51)

Almost everyone else began life alone. Not us though. We’d seen the ugliest side of hell and pulled each other out of its grip. What if their hands hadn’t been there to hold onto me and vice versa? I knew at some point in those nasty years I wouldn’t have been able to climb up into the light.

Our father, Benton Gentry, was a lousy f*ck and he would always be a lousy f*ck. My hatred for him was raw and consuming. My feelings for Maggie Gentry were tougher to sort out. I tried to picture my mother holding us as babies. She had been the one to decide on our unusual names. It seemed there had to have been a time, however brief, that she had loved us. It just wasn’t enough for her to stay away from the shit that rolled her eyes back in her head and left her passed out on a dirty mattress as our lives went on around her. It also wasn’t enough for her to gather some shreds of courage and protect us from Benton’s brutality. We had to do that for each other.

Strangely, as my mind drifted through the messy histories of my parents, I thought of Truly. She’d come from bad shit too, even if maybe it wasn’t the same type of bad shit. But she would understand. She would listen if I rested my head on her chest and choked out all the things I’d never said out loud. Suddenly I wanted to do just that. I wanted to do it very badly.

“Ready for more?” Cord asked and then I remembered there were other things going on that I needed to deal with first.

“Yeah,” I muttered, rising with a grunt. “I’m ready.”





CHAPTER NINETEEN


Truly



Of all the men I’ve been with there was never one who left me with more good memories than bad. Sometimes the sour taste was merely disappointment over not receiving as much as I was giving. I could have exhausted myself chasing after someone who would always outrun me. Occasionally I was clued in early to the kind of violence my mother had often endured and I would run pell-mell in the other direction before things went further. That was something I was proud of; I never allowed a man to hurt me twice. But every now and then it occurred to me that maybe if I’d had more decent men around when I was a girl then I might be able to spot them more easily.

Or maybe the first man who fought his way inside of me was right; I had opened my legs time and again because it was what I was best at.

Bullshit, baby girl. Bullshit.

It was only my own mind answering me but I sat up and listened to it anyway. I threw off the covers and got out of bed. I had no cause to be mooning around and feeling despair. There was no one to blame for my life’s mistakes but me. I’d already accepted that I was the sum of all my own broken parts.

As I showered and dressed for work I thought of Creedence, which made me smile and blush all at the same time. I’d had a bad opinion of him. It wouldn’t be the first time I was wrong. I still understood that he wasn’t all sweetness and sunshine. But he didn’t make false promises to get what he wanted. From the way he entered my body to the way he sang to me in the darkness, there was a raw decency about Creed. There might not be anything more important than that.

And what did Creed Gentry think of me? Likely he believed I was a strong-willed Southern girl who might have been roughed up a little by life but devoid of any real scars. That was what I wanted him to think anyway.

I was on my way out when Stephanie burst through the door like a tornado. She tried to run past me with her head down, her curly hair falling around her face like a veil, but I stopped her. I’d heard the sob ripping out of her throat. The sound astonished me as much as if Dolly had opened up her mouth and said hello.

“Steph!” I reached for her.

She pushed me off. “Shit, Truly, leave me alone.” She ran into her bedroom and slammed the door.

I sighed. Dolly stared at me from her perch atop the kitchen counter. I’d be late for work if I didn’t leave. It sounded like Stephanie was throwing objects against the wall. She was plainly in no mood for a discussion.

I walked over to her bedroom door and stood there for a minute. She had quieted down and I thought I heard her sink into her bed. I knocked.

“Steph?”

I chewed my lip as I waited for some sign from her. I didn’t really know what to say to that girl. We weren’t friends; we were merely people who coexisted. Still, I couldn’t just walk out the door and leave her alone with her pain.

“What?” she finally answered in a muffled voice.

“Look, I’ve got half a gallon of Dreyer’s mint chocolate chip in the freezer. I’ve been less than pleased about the size of my ass lately so I’m trying to cut back. You can have it.” I paused. I couldn’t tell if she was even listening. “There’s a lot to be said for the healing properties of ice cream.”

Still no response.

“Well,” I sighed, “I’ll be late if I dawdle any longer. Look Steph, I know we’re not close but I’ve got a shoulder that’s been cried on before. It’s yours to use if you’d like.”

I moved away from the door. Just before I stepped away I heard a small girlish voice say, “Thank you.”

My heart was heavy as I left and climbed into my car for the short drive to Cluck This. I’d always figured Stephanie kept up her bitchy front because she couldn’t be bothered with people. But maybe she was more like me that I’d realized; another wounded girl who just couldn’t bear to come clean about her troubles.