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“Annabel, wait,” Shane said, taking a step toward me. “It’s not what you think.”
I put up my hands to stop him. My head shook from side to side. I gritted my teeth and glared at him through my tears. “Don’t. Don’t touch me. Don’t even talk to me.”
“But…”
“I’m leaving,” I said, taking a step back, crushing a tomato beneath my shoe. “This time it’s really over, Shane. I don’t ever want to see you again.”
I turned and ran from the house. I heard Shane yell something behind me, but I kept going. I had been a fool to think that I could rewrite the past. I was a fool to trust Shane Mavic. He was no different from every other man on the planet. He thought with his cock instead of his head or his heart.
Fool me once, shame on you.
Fool me twice, shame on me.
I was done giving Shane Mavic chances.
I had no intention of ever seeing him again.
18
Shane
I stood in the front doorway watching Annabel drive away. I could feel Juju standing behind me. I could hear her breathing. She wanted to say something, but knew there was nothing she could say. I wanted to turn around and strangle her, but again, this was not her fault, at least not entirely.
She had no idea I had feelings for Annabel or that Annabel had feelings for me.
I should have said something right off th
e bat, but I didn’t have the chance.
Juju wasn’t the problem.
I was the problem.
Me and no one else.
I was the one who left people hurt and lives destroyed.
I was like a Texas tornado, plowing through lives and leaving nothing but destruction in my wake.
The best thing I could do for Annabel was to get the fuck out of town before I hurt her anymore. That’s what I did. I hurt those I loved the most and then ran away.
That’s what I’d done to Annabel.
And that’s what I’d done to my little brother, Kenny.
Saturday, August 23, 2006. I was eighteen-years-old. Angry. Alone. Lost. Drowning in self-pity and wallowing in sorrow. I had just graduated from high school (barely) and was looking to find work on an oil rig because I wasn’t smart or rich enough to go to college. In the meantime, I was working as a busboy at the Red Lobster just to earn gas money.
Annabel had not talked to me in months.
The violence from my old man had gotten worse. It seemed now that I was a couple of inches taller than him and had some meat on my bones he thought he had to hit me harder and more often to prove that he was still in charge. Sometimes I thought about defending myself, I was certainly capable of it now, but I was afraid that once he realized he couldn’t bully me anymore he would turn his wrath on Kenny. I couldn’t let that happen. Kenny was a defenseless little kid. He was the only reason I was staying in Gulf Breeze. I had to protect him.
Kenny was twelve, about to start sixth grade. He needed school supplies for the semester that would start that Monday. Naturally, my mother, who rarely had a thought my old man didn’t put in her head, had forgotten all about the supplies. She didn’t have money and told Kenny he’d have to borrow supplies from his friends.
Kenny was upset.
I was pissed off.
I grabbed the keys to her old Chrysler and told Kenny to come on. I would drive him to Wal-Mart and buy his supplies out of my tip money. My old man was out drinking somewhere and mom was locked in her room. We didn’t bother to tell her we were leaving because I figured she wouldn’t care.
