Detour: A Creekwood Novel (Creekwood Series Book 1)
Detour: Chapter 22

With graduation on Saturday, many adult lives are set to officially begin come Sunday—the ones without severe hangovers anyway—but mine started years ago when my role switched from child to the only mature figure in the house. The one saddled with holding my emotionally immature mother together. Reminding her when bills were due. Then the one paying those bills after she chose to neglect them. Soothing her as she sobbed in a heap on the floor about the life she’d never have. The one dodging the insults hurtled my way for purportedly robbing that same unattainable life. Taking care of myself with my own earnings while she squandered away any money she could get her idle hands on. Her latest ex-husband being her most recent victim—that I know of—she never discriminated where she could get the money. Willing to lie, cheat, and steal from anyone to get it, Rianne would replace a way.

I had hiding places all over the house for income I garnered. At first, she showed restraint, only taking small amounts so as not to alert me. Bored with not causing friction though, she grew bold and raided all my hiding places at once, leaving them bone dry.

I’ll never forget the day I came home from work to replace my room upturned, everything ripped from the walls, clothes thrown about, mattress flipped, shoes tossed around. Seeing the drawers to my secondhand dresser yanked clear out was what set me off though—I’d taped money under the bottoms of those drawers. I was diligent in keeping them closed whenever she was around or before I left the house. Already doing my own laundry for years, she had no reason to be near my dresser. She was never quiet about her dislike in my clothing choices either. Too sporty. Not feminine enough. Just the way I like them.

No, the only way she would’ve found the money was if she went searching. Finding the tape pockets empty was the last time I came close to losing it. My temper. My grip. My fucking sanity. I had saved hundreds of dollars. And it was gone. All of it.

The worst part was seeing her standing in the doorway with a victorious smirk on her face. Not an ounce of guilt. No shame whatsoever. Just sick anticipation awaiting a reaction. Which is exactly why I didn’t give her one. I cleaned up my room with shaking hands and cloudy eyes. Not saying a single word even as she made comments from her spot at the threshold. Still, I didn’t break.

With each shirt folded, I added another brick to my border. Every shoe reorganized was another wall built. Replacing the drawers, I set the armor in place. Righting my bed was attaching the final piece of defense in keeping me safe.

She could be the hurricane that destroyed everything in its path, but she’d never break me. The little bits in my life I’d mistakenly cared for became meaningless in that moment. Anything she could use against me were no longer important—memories, hobbies, interests, trinkets—they didn’t lose value, they just lost value to me. Because I made it so, not her.

From that day forward, her attempts to get under my skin turned from childish and petty to nasty and malicious, even violent at times. She got the reactions she was looking for in the beginning. That was until I realized I had to strengthen my body, too, not just my mind. Staying composed was hard, becoming better wasn’t. Rianne was willing to sink to such low depths but I chose to climb outside her reach entirely. She wanted to hurt me, I ensured she couldn’t.

That’s something my sister still hasn’t learned. She thinks we should cater to my mom and handle her with kid gloves, where I’d rather just not handle Rianne at all. Having chosen to live with her dad for the majority of her life, she only saw the good side of our mother. She was only shown the good side. Our mom always behaved differently around Kelsie though, careful not to let her crazy show. Thinking Perry would come to his senses one day and take her back, she was always on her best behavior. The weekends my sister would visit were the only times I saw the kind of parent my mother could’ve been had I not been born. A fact she made sure to remind me of whenever Kelsie left again.

Kelsie and I get along for the most part, only if for short bursts at a time. She even gave me some old items for my apartment like utensils, cups, and a nightstand she scored at a thrift store but didn’t fit her new house decor. Kelsie and her high school sweetheart got married just before she gave birth to their baby boy, Miles, in the fall. The small house they moved into has a cozy cottage style where my place has more of a I’ll-take-what-I-can-get vibe, so I got a few things they found lacking.

Where we disagree is our mother which is ironic considering the very tie that binds us doubles as the noose around the neck of our relationship. Every time there’s an altercation she takes Mom’s side, no questions asked, no explanation needed. Of course she’s never seen the ugly, sinister side I grew up with so she can’t imagine the heinous things Rianne has done to me.

That’s why when I met her and Miles for dinner yesterday, I tried to steer the conversation toward safer topics. I needed her help replaceing an outfit for graduation so I bribed her with dinner just to get her out of the house. It was worth it though. I got to spend time with my chubby-cheeked nephew while buying something nicer than cut-off shorts to wear. The outfit we picked out was flirty and fun, not exactly what I’m used to, but Kelsie swore I could pull it off. The topic of graduation obviously led to discussing who’d be in attendance. The invitation is still open to our mother. I want her to see what I’ve accomplished without her help. Despite Rianne having the invitation on the empty fridge for months, whether she comes is up to her. I’m sure Drew will be there, maybe even his dad since he was my stepfather for a short time. When I asked Kelsie if she’d make it, things quickly went south. She maintained she couldn’t attend unless Mom went, saying it wouldn’t be right to celebrate without her. Unsurprisingly, I grew defensive and things escalated from there. She left in a huff with Miles flailing in her arms. I hate fighting with Kelsie, especially when it affects seeing my nephew, but I don’t understand her logic.

My world history teacher spent a summer in South Africa when he was in his teens. Mr. O’Conner’s parents let him visit his cousin who had sold all his possessions to start an animal rescue sanctuary on this oasis in the South African wilderness. Anyway, he told us this story once about these Mozambican Spitting Cobras and how they would get inside the house sometimes. They’re insanely venomous and a single bite could kill a human in under forty-five minutes, so it was a huge ordeal when they’d replace one. They’d retrieve the snakes using special tools, including safety goggles, then release them back into the wild unharmed. Apparently, the spitting cobra—aptly named—also spits its venom at their targets. It doesn’t actually do anything unless it gets into the eyes, then it can scar the cornea leaving a person blind. I can’t help but wonder if this is what’s happened to my sister. Our mother’s poison has reached Kelsie without her even realizing it.

I came home to discover a red rose placed in front of my door. Upon replaceing the stinky flower, I tossed it in the dumpster outside. The boys, well Coty and Beckett, had been leaving me little notes and treats all week, so the rose was an unwelcome surprise to say the least. I’m still not sure who it was from either.

* * *

Joe enters the office carrying a stack of work shirts.

“New shirts came in. Make sure you grab a few.”

The last time we spoke was on the phone when he insisted I meet him for some BS excuse, yet here he stands, acting like a normal, non-skeevy boss.

Nose twitching at a strong odor, I cautiously approach the pile and take a handful. Scanning the sizes, I look up.

“They’re all extra small.”

“That’s what everybody wears so that’s what I ordered. You trying to tell me you don’t fit an extra small?”

Not that it’s any of his damn business, but no, I don’t.

“It’s hotter out there,” I point to the front, “than it is back here. I like my shirts loose for a reason.” Multiple actually.

Why am I explaining my clothing preferences to my manager? How is this okay?

“Well, this is the new style the boss wants everyone in so either make it work or…”

Sighing, I leave, throwing them in my locker on the way to my station. He’s making it impossible to keep working here. Mandatory infant size shirts? What’s next? Wet and Wild Wednesdays? Stripper Sundays?

No. Thanks.

I manage to stay busy enough that I barely notice when Coty’s Camaro rolls out of the bay and into my towel covered hands.

Just as I make my way around the hood, I hear Joe call my name and glance up.

“I need you to stay late.”

Shit.

“Tonight?”

He nods, sliding his hands into his pockets. He rocks back onto his heels, exposing his belly in the process. I bite back a fair amount of vomit.

“The windows need done. Nobody cleaned them last night so they’re filthy. Expect to be here a while.”

Double shit.

My eyes drop to the two sets locked on my every move. Coty’s eyebrows snap together while Marc is sporting his usual scowl.

I dry the rest of the car in a daze, my heartbeat loud enough for them to hear through the windshield. When I open Marc’s door to clean the jamb, I get an idea.

I wait until I open Coty’s to put it into action.

“Hey, neighbor girl,” he teases with a wink.

I peek back to replace the bay empty.

“Hey, yourself. What are you guys doing here?”

They share a look before Coty answers vaguely, “Work.”

Okay, then.

“What are you doing tonight?”

“Hopefully hanging with my hot neighbor.”

Marc groans from the passenger side, making Coty laugh.

“I didn’t realize Gary was up for visitors but I hope you two have fun.”

Both guys break into laughter and I smile despite the dread simmering below the surface.

“Why? What’s up?”

My gaze flits around the car, the speed of a hummingbird. “I was wondering if you could pick me up?”

Coty grows serious, immediately scanning my face. “Is something wrong with your Jeep?”

I look down to my shoe splattered in dirty water. That part was hard, but this part feels wrong. “I don’t know. It sounded weird on the way here and I wanted to go to the library after work,” Coty’s eyes narrow a fraction and I almost lose my nerve altogether, nevertheless I persevere, “but my boss needs me to stay after-”

“Done.” I don’t even get to finish when Coty cuts me off. “Consider it all done. We’ll take care of the Jeep. I’ll be here when you get off. You can use my laptop for,” his hesitation nearly ends me, “whatever you need it for. Anything else, we’ll figure out later.”

He glances over to Marc, jerking his chin. Wordlessly, Marc gets out and walks around the back with his hand out. “Keys?”

“He’ll take it to the shop now and we’ll look at it there.”

My face outright ignites as I fumble for words. I didn’t expect them to take control like this. I should’ve, but I didn’t. The web I’ve spun can’t be removed without revealing everything in the process. And honestly, that option sounds worse than asking for help—even if it did feel like exfoliating my tongue with sea salt.

I tell Marc to meet me out back, however, ignoring my wishes, he follows me through the building, hot on my heels all the way to my Jeep.

“What’s his deal?”

I turn to see Joe watching from the window. Sighing, I tell him the first truth today, “I don’t know.”

“He looks pissed, like someone shit in his double roast beef sandwich.”

I eye Marc skeptically. “Double?”

“Look at him.” Marc unabashedly waves a hand in Joe’s direction. I grimace but play it off as a squint. The sun is bright. “His sweat looks like it’s a step below that pink slime shit from butcher shops.” Eww. Actually, now that I think about it, it does. “Dude’s arteries are probably working overtime.”

“Maybe he’s just hot?”

Marc pins me with a hard stare, making me regret I even said anything.

“Maybe he’s a fucking scumbag.”

Well, I can’t argue with that.

With a shrug, I shuffle the keys. “Thanks for helping me. I know we don’t know each other very well but Coty-”

“Coty’s my boy. If he needs something from me, it’s done. Period.” He pauses. “He thinks you need saving.”

I peek up at him. “Let me guess, you don’t?”

A moment passes where neither of us says anything.

Marc takes the keys from my wavering grasp. “Is this thing going to make it to the shop okay or am I gonna have to Flintstone my ass the whole way there?”

“Umm.”

I can’t. I can’t do it. Lies may not make your nose grow but they sure as hell make your conscience shrink.

“Watch your back tonight.”

His eyes bounce over to Joe again before landing on me pointedly.

Shit.

I wait until he’s gone then reach up to feel my nose, wondering if it grew after all.

* * *

Luckily, by the time we switch off the sign for the night, Coty’s Camaro is already backed into an empty spot. Some of the tightness in my stomach loosens when I see him there, waiting patiently. Without telling Joe, I go out to give Coty my bag and let him know I’ll be a while. He assures me he’s got all the time in the world making me glad he’s here. Even though it felt like jumping from a cliff without knowing what was waiting at the bottom of the dark water by asking him for help, it still felt safer than swimming with a hungry shark—a shark with pink slime sweat no less.

Upon entering the office Joe starts in with the fifth degree.

“Who’s that? A boyfriend of yours?”

Tracking my movements as I gather the tools needed, he crosses his arms over his chest.

“He’s my ride. Car trouble.”

“I could’ve taken you home. This isn’t a place for dates.”

I scoff. Loudly.

“Well, he’s waiting for me.” I meet his eye, hoping he hears what I’m not saying. “If you don’t mind, I’m just going to knock this out and get out of here.”

Not bothering to hear his response, I get to work washing the heavily streaked windows. Joe wasn’t lying. They’re bad. Whoever closed last night should get their ass kicked for leaving the bay in such bad shape.

An hour later, I’m surprised when I replace the office empty when I finish. Joe was in and out of the bay but never stayed long. Thankfully. I don’t know where he is now and I’m not sure I really care. I just want to leave already.

I wander around, listening for any sound. My steps are slow and measured as I call Joe’s name.

The light from under the bathroom door, the closed bathroom door, catches my attention and I come to an abrupt stop. Keeping my distance, I can somewhat make out sounds like…grunting?

What the?

A knock at the office door startles me. After letting Coty in, his gaze sweeps the room. His narrowed eyes replace mine, softening in the next instant. “All done?”

I nod, grateful. “Take me home.”

“Yes, ma’am.” His imitated southern accent makes me smile. “Hungry? I know I worked up an appetite just watching you.”

“Hmm. No wonder you came early.” We walk out to the black sports car with our hands clasped. “But yeah, I could eat.”

Coty leans over and kisses me sweetly, tenderly.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all day.”

Smirking, I kiss him back, my lips thanking him for things I refuse to admit. I replace myself craving his presence even more since our sexy bike ride together. He calms my ever-present storms looming in the distance.

Tucked safely inside his car, Coty grabs my hand after turning up the “Too Good To Be True” remix featuring Machine Gun Kelly and takes us for a late meal.

Back at Creekwood, I grab a shower before meeting him at his place.

I’m wearing his black sweatshirt—he’s never getting it back—and a pair of tight athletic shorts when he opens the door showing a living room packed with people.

“Holy shit.”

He moves to block the opening.

I follow his gaze to make sure I did in fact put shorts on. My apartment’s so hot, I “forget” to put full outfits on sometimes. Confirming I’m dressed properly, I look back to Coty.

“You can’t wear that.”

“What do you mean? What’s wrong with my clothes?”

“Nothing. I like what you’re wearing. A lot.” His eyes darken a shade. “But I won’t be able to keep my hands to myself in front of all these people behind me.” He jerks his head. “Let’s go to your place.”

He takes a step into me but I push him back, laughing.

“Mine doesn’t have anywhere to sit, remember?”

“Shit. That’s right. Do you mind hanging in my room then? I want you all to myself tonight.”

Eyes narrowed, I say, “Fine, but I have shit to do so no distractions.”

“Babe, you are the distraction.”

Our fingers entwined, he leads the way, making quick introductions as we go. Beckett barely looks up from the couch as a girl nibbles his ear. Marc’s in the kitchen cutting up limes. He looks up and nods, saying, “neighbor girl,” as we pass.

I glance over Coty’s room, looking for differences from the last time I was in it. Aside from a few large rolls of official looking paper on the desk, everything appears the same. Breathing in the tropical tang, I sit on the bed and take in the beautiful picture above the headboard, reading over the quote again.

Coty closes the door, then walks over to rearrange some papers on his desk. Head down, he tells me, “We need to keep the Jeep a while longer. The part’s on back-order but should be in by next week.”

I couldn’t keep the shock from my face if I tried. Excuse me, what? There was nothing wrong with my car to begin with, that I know of, so I’m completely taken aback by this information. Coty refusing to meet my eyes isn’t helping.

“What part?”

“The carburetor.”

This would be a great time to know something, anything, even a fun fact, about vehicles besides their make and model.

“Where’d it go?”

Coty finally looks at me, his eyebrows basically touching.

“It didn’t go anywhere. The original one was shit and should’ve been replaced a long time ago. I’m surprised it didn’t give you any problems.” Coty coughs, adding, “Sooner.”

Even though it’s killing me, I bite my tongue. I’d rather him think I have car trouble than boss trouble.

“If the carburetor’s still in there, then can I drive it until the part comes in?”

Coty unplugs his laptop, shaking his head. “We already stripped it. I can drive you to and from work. Or anywhere else you need to go.”

My hands clench between my legs. “That won’t work. I need my car back.” Now.

“Babe, the guys and I already talked about it, we’ll make it work. I’ll put our numbers in your phone and one of us can take you wherever you need to go. All you gotta do is text a time and place and someone will show. Don’t worry, we got you.”

The laptop forgotten, Coty saunters over to join me. Dropping to eye level, he places his knee between my legs, placing his hands on either side of me. His advance forces me to lie back and honestly, distraction never looked so good.

Inches above my body he breathes, “Damn, I’ve pictured you in my bed so many times.”

His fingers skirt along the skin peeking out from my shorts. Roused by the featherlight touch, I push my groin up making contact with his and he obliges by dropping his waist down to meet mine. Feeling him already rock hard makes my center throb with anticipation. With one hand holding up his torso, his other snakes around to my ass, gripping my thigh and arching it over his waist. Our groans loud and wanting, we kiss like it’s the first time all over again. With new areas to reach and less clothes to restrict, we explore using our hands until soon we’re both growing greedy for more.

His shirt is promptly removed and tossed across the room, giving me free reign to explore. Pulling away from my impatient hands, he lowers to my still exposed middle and nips just below my belly button. I arch off the bed simultaneously moaning in a voice foreign to my own ears. Just when I think he’s going to ask me to keep it down or leave he does it again, eliciting the same reaction.

“Coty,” I pant.

“Please don’t tell me to stop,” he grinds out against the top of my shorts, his erratic breathing penetrating the tight material.

“I wasn’t. I was going to tell you not to stop.”

“Fuck, babe. I’m-”

The obnoxious knocking on his door that sounds like “Old McDonald” at that exact moment interrupts Coty.

A muffled groan against my shorts, my still sensitive body hums as he sits up.

“What?”

“Movie time. Are you and Angie coming out?”

Coty swings his gaze to mine, apprehension plain as day.

I shake my head gently, picking up the laptop. Coty looks at the device like he’s about to throw it at Beckett. My hold on it tightens. “No, thanks.”

I wait for it to fire up while propping myself against the headboard.

Flopped onto his back, Coty huffs out a breath of frustration. You and me both, buddy.

“I knew we should’ve gone to your place. How the hell can you still have homework? I thought this was your last week.”

With his eyes shut, I admire his profile before answering. His dark hair, messy from our make-out session, matches his thick eyebrows. Lush eyelashes rest over those all-seeing chocolate eyes that frequent my dreams. High cheekbones and a strong jawline make his face almost too handsome, too perfect. Plump, supple lips above the slight indentation in his chin round out his nearly flawless complexion.

“It’s not for school. And, yeah, Thursday’s my last day.”

Coty opens his eyes, holding me captive.

“When’s graduation then? This weekend?”

“Saturday.”

“Will your family be there?”

My mouth flattens and I look away. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

“What? Your own family would miss your graduation?”

I type out a website, careful to angle the screen away from those same perceptive eyes I was just drooling over. “It’s not that big of a deal. They’re not really the supportive type.”

Coty looks like he wants to argue but how can he? He doesn’t even know my family. And hopefully it stays that way.

Sighing, I elaborate, telling him about my mom and sister skipping out on the big event. “Drew will be there though. Maybe with his dad since he was my stepdad once upon a time.”

“That’s not your sister’s dad?”

Busy scanning the newest listings, I answer, “no,” absentmindedly.

“You and your sister have the same dad then?”

“Uh, no. You are looking at the product of a one-night stand.” I wink at him before returning to the screen. “A slip-up. I was never meant to be.”

“A happy accident,” Coty corrects.

“I doubt anyone sees it that way.” In fact, I know they don’t.

A hand to my cheek, Coty steals my attention momentarily. “I do.”

My mouth twitches at the cheese factor but his serious expression has my heart picking up speed. He means it. Or at least he thinks he does. Give it time.

I turn my head, placing a kiss to his palm.

He continues asking questions about my past and I fill him in with the bits and pieces I’m willing to share. There’s a fine line between interest and pity when revealing my childhood to others and I’m careful with the details I divulge. Always. Coty listens intently, never rushing me or pressing for answers I’m not ready to give.

At some point, I look over to replace Coty fast asleep. One arm above his head, one draped over my thigh, he is the picture of euphoria. My heart squeezes watching his chest rise and fall, so steady, so sure—so fucking beautiful. It would be too easy to fall for this man. To fall for everything I’ve gone without.

I gently move his arm over to his stomach and return his laptop to its original spot. Bending down, I kiss his forehead before quietly letting myself out.

Beckett’s closing the front door just as I enter the main room.

“You sneaking out?”

Am I? “Coty passed out, so I’m heading home.”

Through the dim light from the TV, I watch his eyebrows shoot up. “Damn, Coty’s gonna be pissed when he replaces out you ditched him.” He chuckles to himself. “Want to finish the rest of this movie?”

“Can’t.”

“Lame,” he chides. “It’s your last day or some shit, isn’t it?”

“Almost.”

“Come on, don’t make me finish this movie alone. It’s scary.”

I glance at the paused screen and scoff. “Tremors? That movie’s old as hell.”

“So what? It’s scary as hell, too.”

Such a big baby.

“Where’s that girl from earlier? She’ll keep the monster worm-things away.”

He plops on the couch, tsking. “You know better than that, neighbor girl. Remember? No midnight snack for her.”

“Is that an apartment-wide rule or just you?”

“Why? Do you want to spend the night?” He wiggles his eyebrows as I slip my hands inside the hoodie pocket. Then, so low I almost miss it, he says, “It’s just me.”

His tone hints at something deeper but I’m too tired to dig, so I sit on the other side of the couch from him, stretching my legs out along his. He throws a blanket over us while I try not to gawk at how long his legs actually are.

“Can I hold your hand?”

I poke my bare foot out of the blanket in front of Beckett’s face, laughing when he jerks back. He shoves my foot away playfully, mumbling something about taking his chances.

Beckett shares the story of the first time he watched the cult classic with his dad. Listening to him recall the fond memory quiets the stream of thoughts rushing through my mind and I settle in, welcoming the distraction. We fall into comfortable silence after a while. The peace it presents is staggering. Unfamiliar. Extraordinary.

My eyes grow heavy as the blanket’s warmth envelopes me. With the constant heat in my apartment, I forgot how comforting a thick blanket can be.

I’m being pulled under just as I hear a whispered, “can we keep you?” but I don’t remember that line being in the movie. I mean who would want to keep something around that only causes destruction anyway?

Once again, I wake to Coty lifting me. This time, snuggled against his chest, I notice him carrying me down a different hall. I vaguely recognize it as the hall to his room and not the one that leads to my apartment. Everything now dark, it’s hard to be certain but his scent hits me as he swings the door shut with his foot careful not to jostle me, and I know it’s his room.

“What are you doing?” I grumble.

“I fell asleep with you in my arms, I’m going to wake up with you in them, too.”

Positioned in the middle of the bed, Coty follows, climbing in behind me. He wraps his body around mine and, unable to argue—physically or otherwise—I’m already drifting out to a sea of bliss.

“Shh. Sleep. I got you.”

And stupid me, I listen.

For now.