Steel My Love Page 4

  "We were just playing," I protested, keeping an eye on her raised fists as a flutter of fear rippled through me. "We weren't hurting you." This wasn't fair. "You weren't even here until just now."

  "Yeah," the taller boy repeated. "We're here now." And he shot his arm out to the side, knocking Sarah right into the dirt.

  "Hey!" I shrieked and ran to where she had toppled, shielding her with my body. The bright tears were collecting in her eyes but mercifully she wasn't crying yet, only staring wide-eyed at them in hurt confusion. "Leave her alone."

  "You gonna cry?" the other boy taunted Sarah. "Little baby gonna cry?"

  "I said stop!" I shrieked. Her shoulders were starting to shake. She was going to start wailing any second now.

  The taller boy stood over me and poked me, hard in the shoulder. I over balanced and landed heavily in the dirt, my arms still flung protectively over Sarah.

  "Hey!"

  All six of us turned when he shouted. He was still up there, up in his perch, watching everything. "Leave them alone." His voice was low, low like a man's, and dripping with some deep anger.

  "Whaddya want Casey? You fucking weirdo," the girl taunted.

  He didn't respond. Instead he leapt. From high above us, he leaped like a cat, soaring downward like an avenging angel.

  Chapter 7

  Lexi

  An amorphous green blob materialized into an exit sign, waking me from my cherished memories. I squinted and saw it was mine, then looked at the clock. Forty-five minutes had gone by while I inched forward and dreamed.

  Fuck. I really needed to call my mom. At least I could tell her I was almost off the highway. She hated it, believed it to be a deathtrap. She preferred to wend her way along the side streets. She preferred even more to have my father drive her everywhere.

  With a heavy sigh I grabbed my phone and flipped to her in my contacts list.

  She answered before the first ring even finished. "Alexandra?"

  "Hi Mom."

  She was holding the phone too closely to her mouth and each breath sounded like a small explosion in my ear. "Where are you? Are you okay? Do you need me to send Daddy to come get you?"

  "Mom," I was holding up my hands placatingly, even though I was alone in the car. It was a reflex. "I'm fine. Traffic's just bad and I'm being careful."

  "You're on your phone while you're driving?"

  Oops.

  "I'm pulled over on the shoulder," I lied.

  "Where are you?" she repeated.

  "I'm about to get off onto City Ave."

  "You took the Expressway?" the word ended in a small shriek.

  "I figured it would be safest because they'd keep it plowed."

  She paused, mulling over the truth of my words. "But you're getting off now?"

  "Yes." I actually was. The ramp had a sharp curve. I skidded slightly around the bend and pressed my lips together tightly so she wouldn't hear my fright. I heard a muffled voice in the background, a low rumble through the phone. Then scratching sounds as my mother muffled the receiver, but not enough to obscure her words as she answered my dad's demand to know where I was. "She took the expressway, Kevin."

  "Rumble rumble."

  "I asked her that, she says she she's pulled over."

  "Rumble rumble rumble."

  "Well I don't know that, now do I?" The scratching sounds sounded louder. "Lexi, your father wants to know why you didn't call us to come get you."

  The car fishtailed slightly and the tires spun as I skidded up the hill into Roxborough. I still had the stretch of Henry Avenue to negotiate and I couldn't do that and talk her off a ledge at the same time. "Mom, I promise, I am almost home, can I let you go?"

  "Did you hear my question? Your father wants to know...."

  "Yes I did mom. Maybe I should have done that, but there's not much we can do about it now, is there?"

  "Don't get snotty with me, young lady."

  "I'm not getting snotty mom. Please, I'll be home soon."

  She sighed her loudest, most long suffering sigh. "All right," she singsonged, letting me know exactly how little she thought of this whole scenario.

  "Bye Mom," I held the phone away from my ear and then brought it back quickly. "Love you," I added hastily before stabbing the off button.

  The snow was falling too thickly for the plows to keep up with it. Getting up the hill on Ridge Avenue was a nerve-wracking crawl. I tried to stay in the grooves left by the other cars, but the packed down snow was slick and slippery under my tires. I revved my engine over and over again, finally getting to the top through nothing more than sweat and tension. I breathed a sigh of relief at the light at the top of the hill, grateful to be on level ground again.

  But my relief was short lived. As I made the left onto Henry Avenue, my car hit a patch of ice. I shrieked as I spun into the oncoming lane, turning halfway around before my tires found purchase again and I shot back into my own lane, narrowly avoiding an overconfident SUV that was traveling way too fast for the conditions.

  I would not be telling my mother about that.

  My near-miss made me go even slower. As I crawled past the agricultural high school that incongruously sat on the border of Fairmount Park, I instinctively looked for the horses that always grazed in the attached field. It was a special little treat to pass through the dense neighborhood and have it suddenly open up to a field of grazing animals. I had always loved that part of living up here, just at the edge of the city limits.

  But today I could barely see past the fence line. It was instinct and nothing more that had me turning down the correct street, the street sign being wholly obscured by the snow. A part of living up here that I did not love was that the city always forgot to plow our neighborhood. The snow was almost up to the grille of my Oldsmobile. As I powered through the undisturbed drifts, I was grateful for how heavy my car was, even if it was an old beater gifted to me by my Grandma as a 'going to college' present before she went into the home.

  Driving slowly down my street, I peered through the swirling snows towards number 451. It was still empty. I hoped it always would be. No family could ever be happy within those walls. The poison had permeated them. The place was rotten to the core.

  I ripped my eyes away from the shadow that haunted our block and fixed my gaze ahead. Five houses down was my house, ablaze with light. I grinned gratefully to see that my father had already been out with his snowblower. He had serviced it last week and I knew that he would expect me to praise his foresight. As I slid easily into my spot, I threw the car into park and sat back with a sigh. The tension of driving through a storm drained away, only to be replaced with a new type of tension. My heart thumped loudly in my chest, and I had the crawling claustrophobic apprehension that always took hold when I caught sight of my pressure-cooker of a home. I needed to take a few deep breaths before I could go in and face them all.

  All four of them.

  Sarah, once so bubbly and eager to please, now sunk deep into the grip of teenaged drama. She stalked through the house, silent and sullen, her brown eyes ringed in rebellious raccoon shadow and her flame red hair dyed a murky black.

  Mary with her pointed sarcasm. She stood in judgment of us all, convinced she was smarter than everyone. Talking near her was exhausting with her constant nitpicking. She loved to point out what she called "logical fallacies," and pounced on each use of poor grammar like a lion sighting a wounded gazelle.

  But they were just my sisters. I could ignore them. It was my parents that twisted the choking tendrils of their love into my heart. For them, love was an obligation. It was not given freely; it had to be earned through good behavior and proclamations of devotion.

  My mother hovered over us all, sighing martyred sighs, waiting for her daughters to measure up to the image in her head of how a daughter should treat her mother.

  We all fell vastly short.

  Her intensity was only matched by my father's scrutiny. Once he got his twenty years in with the Philadelph
ia Police force, he had retired. It was the worst thing he could have ever done. Police work gave him something to focus his laser like intensity on. Without the treasured stress of his job, he was now untethered and unhappy, with all that intensity now directed at his daughters.

  I loved them.

  But they were exhausting.

  Duty is duty, I reminded myself. It was something my father had said to us a million times growing up. He had his stock phrases, said so many times they now echoed in my head like they were my own voice. Family first. Rules are there for a reason. This family is not a democracy. Duty is duty.

  I stepped out of the car and into the silent, snow swirling world. It was an eerie, muffled place, almost magical. The snow lay over everything like a blanket and the air was surprisingly warm on my face. I listened as hard as I could, but I was unable to make out the usual noises of the neighborhood around me. We were all packed in on each other, able to yell, "bless you," when our neighbor sneezed and have them thank us in return. But tonight there was nothing but snow and silence.

  I wished I could stay out here. It gave me a peace I hadn't felt in years. Not since snuggling up into Casey's arms, listening to the sound of his heart thumping strong and steady under my ear. He had found a way to quiet me that no one else had ever achieved. His silence was like that of the snow around me, peaceful and promising.

  I swallowed and pushed those thoughts violently from my mind. For a moment I thought the regret would overwhelm me. Five years had done nothing to stem the flood of remorse that threatened to drown me every time my traitorous heart strayed back in time to remember those golden moments before I ruined everything.

  The snow lost its magic. I grabbed my bags and trudged heavily across the silent, snow covered lawn. I tramped carefully and deliberately up the porch stairs and took a deep breath before pushing open the door into my too warm, too cluttered, too crowded, too crazy house.

  Chapter 8

  Lexi

  I wasn't in the mood to talk and stuffed my face full of lunch as quickly as I could before pleading homework to escape the dining room and race upstairs to my tiny bedroom.

  Once on my bed, I flopped backwards and stared at the pitched ceiling. I felt guilty for lying. I was current on everything. All my assignments were caught up. I rolled over to my stomach and rifled through my bag. I could start the group assignment¸ but I had a feeling classes would be cancelled tomorrow. Philadelphia was terrible about plowing and my professor lived way down in South Philly where the plows couldn't fit down the narrow streets.

  The thought of being stuck in the house with my family made the claustrophobia even worse.

  That feeling made me feel guilty. Like everything else. Guilt hung over me like an ever-present weight on my shoulders.

  The avenging angel overshot his landing. He toppled forward on his feet, sprawling forward. His forehead connected with the support pole of the swing set with a sickening clang.

  All six of us gasped.

  I was the first to move, leaving Sarah huddled in the dirt as I rushed forward. My fears had come true. I was going to have to call the police now. I wondered if he was dead.

  He lifted himself up onto his hands and knees and I swear he shook himself. Like a dog shakes its coat after swimming.

  Blood flew through the air like droplets of water.

  He hopped back up to his feet as nimble as he was atop the swingset. Blood was pouring from a two-inch gash above his eye. My stomach turned.

  "Leave them alone," he repeated. Blood licked down his face, pooling at the corner of his mouth. He poked his tongue at it, tasting his blood.

  But otherwise he didn't pay it any attention at all.

  "Jesus Christ, Casey, you're sick." The swagger in the taller boy's voice was gone. He sounded pale and shaky.

  Casey came roaring forward, charging like a blood-soaked bull. All three of the bullies shrank back from him as he bellowed louder than anything I had heard before. 'LEAVE THEM THE FUCK ALONE!!"

  They scattered, running away from the blood-soaked terror in front of them.

  He planted his feet on the ground and crossed his arms, watching them go, oblivious to the blood that still poured from his wound. The front of his shirt was soaked in it.

  "You're bleeding," I whispered, half to him, half to myself.

  He waited a beat, and then turned to look at me. He didn't say anything about what he had just done. Just touched his finger to his forehead and regarded it coolly.

  "Can I...help you?" I moved towards him tentatively, the image of his blood-spattered fury still fresh in my mind. But the boy before me showed no sign of rage anymore.

  "Don't touch me," he said mildly.

  "We need to get you to your parents," I bustled, turning to gather my sisters who were hanging back from the sight of him. "Where do you live?"

  "You don't know?" The way he said it was odd.

  "Should I?"

  He looked sad for a minute, and then the scowl returned. "My parents aren't around," he snarled. "And they wouldn't care anyway." He touched the cut and grimaced. I think he was finally realizing how badly he was hurt.

  "How could your parents not care?" I asked.

  He bristled and turned his broad back to me. "You're annoying me and being bossy."

  "Well, you need to be bossed!" I shot back, my mother's words on my lips. It was clear he needed a little mommy too. He had protected me, now I needed to protect him. I took a few more steps, reaching out my hand like I would to a wild animal. "Come back to my house," I urged. "I'll clean you up at least."

  He hunched his shoulders away from my touch, but took a step forward. I realized he wouldn't allow me to lead him. But he might follow me if I started walking. "Come on girls!" I called over my shoulder, hearing my mother's voice from my lips again. "We're going home."

  Mary muttered something dark and threatening, but I pretended I didn't hear as I walked back down the street to our little cape cod house. He hung back on the lawn as I opened the door with my key. "I promise, I know what to do," I told him. "I took a first aid course at the Red Cross." It was true, my mother had insisted on it before letting me stay home with my sisters.

  He trudged heavily and silently up the front steps and stood awkwardly in our doorway. I realized he was nearly as tall as my father. My heart thumped strangely in my chest when he got close to me.

  "Upstairs," I ordered him. "Second door on the right."

  He didn't say a word the whole time I cleaned his cut. It was less serious than I thought, and once I got the blood cleaned away, I was able to close it with a few butterfly bandages. I worked in silence, concentrating on the task in front of me so I wouldn't be unnerved by the paleness of his ice-blue eyes. Up close I could see that his shaggy blond hair was shot through with the palest gold. His skin was bronzed in a way I found unnerving. The queer sensations in my belly were making me as jumpy as a cat. I fumbled with the bandages, eliciting a muffled grunt from him.

  "Oops, sorry," I gasped.

  "S'okay," he mumbled. The sneer that had been in his voice the whole time was gone. It was as low and warm as the heat rising from his skin. I saw his shoulders relax under my touch and had to step away suddenly.

  "There," I announced, checking my handiwork. "How does it feel?"

  He stood up from his perch on our toilet, unfurling himself to his full height. His strange mix of boyishness and manliness was odd to see. He bent to regard himself in the bathroom mirror. "Better," he nodded. Then his jaw worked oddly. "Thank you," he recited as if something had prompted him.

  "I should be thanking you," I sighed. "You saved us."

  "I don't like bullies," he grunted. "People who pick on people who can't fight back."

  "I can fight back," I protested.

  He only looked at me and smiled slightly. I felt awkward under his gaze. "Is your name Casey?" I barked nervously.

  He nodded and wiped his hand on his stained shorts and held it out to me. "Casey Ericsson
."

  I wiped my hand in return. "Alexandra Delaney. Lexi."

  "Thank you, Lexi."

  "Where do you live?" I wondered. Only neighborhood kids hung out at our playground. Or so I thought.

  He smiled a queer smile. "I'm at 451."

  I closed my mouth quickly so he couldn't see my shock. My house was 463. "You're on this side of the street?"

  "Five houses down."

  It finally clicked. That house. The one with the overgrown bushes in the yard. The unmowed lawn. The jumble of cars in the driveway never in the same combination twice. The house my parents told me to stay away from.

  Bad people lived there.

  No wonder I had never seen him before.

  He must have seen my realization, because a cloud passed across his face. "I'll go now," he muttered.

  "You don't have to," I said mechanically. I didn't want him to. But I also did. Knowing that I had a resident of the bad house in my bathroom sent my pulse racing.

  He only nodded and shuffled back down the stairs. As he left the house, the screen door slammed back shut again, making me jump.

  "You are in so much trouble," Mary observed.

  "Shut up!" I whirled on her so viciously Sarah screamed. "Both of you just be quiet and leave me alone." My thoughts were a confusing whirl and I needed to be alone. The bullies, the blood and those pale pale eyes all danced maniacally in my head. I ran back up the stairs and slammed the door to my tiny room and flopped onto my canopy bed.

  The bad house. I was supposed to stay away from there. I shouldn't have talked to him in the first place. But he had helped us. And he had ice blue eyes. And his skin was warm under my fingers. I couldn't see him again.

  I needed to see him again.

  Chapter 9

  Case

  Case watched the guys in the corner over the rim of his pint glass. He had seen this kind of situation too many times to be able to sit comfortably at his normal barstool in the Black Dog Saloon. He discreetly moved his hand to his boot, running his fingers along the reassuring shape of his knife. If things got ugly, which they inevitably did, he liked knowing he had options.