Covet - Eve Vaughn Page 0,40

brown eyes because I didn’t believe it. She was trying to gain my sympathy and tap into that part of my heart that remembered she used to own it.

I forced myself not to feel anything besides my baser emotions. I let my cock guide me even though there was a brief moment when I nearly lost it. Touching her dark velvety skin made me want to uncuff her and explore her body properly. I wanted to press my lips against her full soft ones. I remembered how sweet her kisses tasted.

The more that I tortured her, however, I felt as if I were doing it to myself. And that made me angrier and meaner. I lashed out, and when it was over, I couldn’t look her in the eyes.

Even as I walked out the door, the sound of her sobs taunted my ears. I had to push away any and all guilt that threatened to surface. That bitch didn’t deserve my sympathy.

I know she only married me for the money. I keep telling her how I feel, but she just laughs at me. She will never love me, and it’s killing me. She’s killing me.

Those words were burned into my memory, and I would never forget them. A few days after Kenny died, my mother had wanted to go to his house and go through some of his personal effect as a keepsake. Since Frankie was in residence, I didn’t think it would be a good idea considering the fragile state she was in.

I’d made an arrangement with Frankie to look through his things while she was out so we wouldn’t have to see each other. Even if she’d said no, I would have kicked the door in to get what I wanted before she could get rid of his belongings.

I hired movers to help me go through the house and collect his things. I’d been so angry going through that house they’d shared together, secretly hating her for leaving me for my brother and secretly jealous of my brother for being the one she chose. I went through the house retrieving items that belonged to him, his wheelchair, crutches, books, his favorite shirts. I didn’t want her to touch anything that used to be his.

The last room I inspected was Kenny’s office. My brother’s cerebral palsy made it difficult for him to work in a regular office setting, so he did a lot of freelance writing. From the time we were kids, he enjoyed reading and writing poetry. His hands may not have cooperated with him all the time, but he used a computer to get his words across and to show his brilliant mind.

I took every piece of furniture from that office, as well as the computer. Before it was packed away however, I noticed that there was a thumb drive plugged in that I pocketed before it was packed away.

Later than night after having my brother’s things placed in storage, I plugged the drive into my computer to see what was on it. There were several files of his past works. A lot of it was for his job and some of it was personal. Tears poured down my face as the beauty of his poetry touched my heart. This was the side of my brother he didn’t often let me see before because I had never been a poetry kind of guy. I would often brush him off when he used to show me a poetry or humor him until he just stopped showing me. I truly regretted that. I’d be so wrapped up in my own shit that I didn’t get to know this side of my brother. I stayed up for hours that night, reading every poem and committing it to memory.

Then I found a folder titled My Life. I thought it would be another collection of poems, but it turned out to be a journal. I was getting tired and debated on whether to save it for later, but I started to skim through the pages and stumbled across Kenny’s retelling of his life with Frankie. He talked about promising her money to get her to marry him, pretty much confirming what me and my mother had already expected. But it was those damning words of how she was throwing his feelings back in his face which really fueled the hatred I felt for her.

All I had to do was think of those words and any feelings of regret vanished. It was why