Branded(40)

“You took one look at my tangled hair, my smudged eye make-up and my wrinkled clothes and said, ‘Rough night, sweetheart? Who was the lucky guy?’”

I feel a tear slip down my cheek and I brush it away angrily. I hate that I’m crying over him. I hate him for making me feel all of this stupid emotion about something that happened years ago.

“So, you want to know why I won’t live with you? Why I won’t do THIS with you?” I ask, motioning between us. “Because you broke my fucking heart, DJ Taylor. You broke my fucking heart and you’re a DICK!”

Turning away from him, I storm out of the kitchen, grab my boots when I see them sitting by the front door and head outside.





I am dirt. Lower than dirt. I am the worms beneath the dirt. Every good argument I had for having her stay with me flew out the window when she started to cry. I can handle a lot of things, but I can’t handle a woman who cries. Talk about breaking someone’s heart. I should have told her that I did remember. It took me fifteen years, but I remembered. Instead of chasing after her, I pulled out my cell phone and made a few really quick calls while she stood on the front porch and angrily pulled her boots on.

This is probably going to be the opposite of getting back on her good side, but I can’t let her leave until she hears me out.

Stepping out onto the front porch, I see her arguing with Jackson, who is parked in my driveway. She gestures wildly at the house and I watch him shake his head at her. She points at him and then turns her angry eyes on me, stomping back up the walkway and pounding up the stairs.

“You called him and told him not to let me leave? Have you lost your fucking mind?” she shouts.

She stands two steps below me and I can still see the tear tracks on her face, even though her cheeks are flushed with anger.

“Right now, you’re safer here,” I tell here. “What’s the real problem?”

I want to add that I’m sorry I made her cry, I’m sorry I hurt her and I will do anything to make up for it. I wisely keep my mouth shut for now. My balls are entirely too close to her knee.

“BULLSHIT! You just want to torture me! And the real problem is that I used to DATE HIM! I don’t want him following me around, that’s just embarrassing!”

She turns and goes back down the steps, flopping her ass down on the grass in the front yard.

I let the dating comment go for now because I’m trying really hard NOT to fight with her, but Jesus Christ! Someone could have filled me in on that shit ahead of time.

“What are you doing?” I ask as I walk down to stand next to her.

“I’m not going back inside that house. Go away,” she tells me stubbornly.

I hear the rumble of a fire truck and smile to myself as it pulls up to the curb right in front of my house. Ah, the cavalry is here.

Walking past Phina, I meet Collin by the side of the truck and shake his hand. “Thanks for doing this. I promise it will only take a minute.”

He opens the front passenger door and reaches inside for the radio, pulling the cord taut as he hands it to me.

“Are you kidding me, I wouldn’t miss this shit for the world!” Collin says with a laugh. “Cord should reach all the way to the top. Just stomp on the roof when you’re ready.”

Collin jumps back inside the truck on the passenger side and I put the cord to the radio in my mouth and climb up the side of the truck until I’m at the top. I stomp twice on the roof and Collin pounds back from the inside. From up here, I have a clear view of Phina still sitting on the lawn looking pissed off, but a little curious. I clear my throat nervously and press the talk button on the radio.

“My name is DJ Taylor and I’m a dick.”

My voice echoes through the neighborhood since Collin turned on the switch to the external speaker and I hear him laugh from inside the truck.

I stomp my foot again to get him to stop cackling at my expense.

I point towards Phina and continue. “That beautiful woman right there gave me the most amazing gift in the world and I shit all over it.”

Her mouth drops open as she stares at me. I hear dogs start to bark and see a few neighbors walking out on their front porch to see what all the commotion is about.

“I just want you to know, in front of God and all of my neighbors, that I DO remember. I remember it all. It took me fifteen fucking years to remember and that doesn’t make it okay, but I remember. I’m sorry for hurting you, I’m sorry that I broke your heart and I’m sorry that you don’t trust me because of it. Did I forget anything?”

She pushes herself up from the grass and glares at me.

“You’re an asshole!” she shouts.