Rock Me Deeper (Licks of Leather #5) - Jenna Jacob Page 0,79
You’re a caring, compassionate—”
“Shut up, Caris,” he snarled, spittle flying. I reared back, feeling the blow of his rejection all the way to my soul. “You don’t know the real me. You only know the parts I wanted you to see…you and the rest of the world. But that’s not who I am. Not even close.”
He was wrong yet right. I knew the boy from Diamond City, and I knew the compassionate man before me, but I didn’t know who Syd had been before we met. I didn’t know how he’d ended up in the foster system, like me. He’d never shared that part of himself, simply blocked it off as if it didn’t exist. I’d never badgered him to tell me for fear he’d leave one day and never come back. In the end, he did, but I’d survived.
I was no longer a scared little girl. It was past time to push him, to force him to open up and purge his darkest secrets.
“Then tell me,” I demanded. “Introduce me to the real Sydney Joseph Wilston.”
“No. He’s an animal, a fucking brutal animal.”
“What did you do, Syd? How did you end up in the system like me?” He clenched his jaw and shot me a murderous glare. “Did your dad beat you? Sell you to pedophiles to rape and abuse you?”
“I didn’t have a dad. And if any man tried to ass rape me, I would have killed him.”
“Did you have a mom?” Sadness rippled over his face as he issued a terse nod. “How did she die, Syd?”
“It doesn’t matter. She’s dead!” His vehement yell echoed through the trees.
I wasn’t a shrink, but I knew his mom’s death was the crux of what was eating at him.
“It does matter,” I whispered knowing now that he’d kept this story locked inside for so long, it had grown into a cancer that was eating him alive. “She was your mom. She gave you life. She gave you love, too. Didn’t she?”
Someone had taught Syd how to love. Whether he’d confess the truth to me remained to be seen. But when he stared off over my shoulder, into the night, I steeled myself for what he would finally say.
“She did…when she wasn’t high as fuck.”
A knife of understanding pierced my heart. At the same time, puzzle pieces of our past started snapping into place.
We’d broken into a house on the lake one hot September night. While Syd filled a trash bag with canned goods from the kitchen, I’d hurried down the hall in search of feminine products and spied a bottle of pain pills on the sink. I’d had the bright idea to sell them to my foster brothers, and just as I’d picked up the bottle, Syd entered the bathroom.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking these. We can sell them.”
“We’re not gonna sell drugs.”
“But we can make five or six dollars a pill.”
“If you start selling drugs, we’re done…we’re through. You’ll be on your own.”
“Fine. Jesus.”
I’d slammed the bottle on the counter, and we’d left with our bounty..
Syd was still gazing at nothing, lost in his own memories, when I reached out and cupped the back of his hand.
“Tell me,” I softly whispered.
“We lived in a trailer on the outskirts of Omaha, Nebraska. Each time the welfare check arrived, Mom would buy a few cans of soup, a couple loaves of bread, and spend the rest on heroin. There was always a parade of drug dealers and lovers coming in and out of the house, day and night. I didn’t know that other people lived any differently until I was in the fifth grade. Tommy VanMeter invited me to come to his house and play one day after school. So, I did. It was the first time I saw how a real family lived. His house was small, but it was so clean. There was food in the refrigerator and his mom wasn’t in a T-shirt and sweats but real clothes. Her hair was clean and shiny and brushed, and she laughed and smiled a lot. When Tommy’s dad came home, he smiled really wide, then hugged and kissed him and ruffled his hair. He asked him about school and what they’d served us for lunch. Asked him a million questions that no one ever asked me.”
I sat quiet as a church mouse, listening to Syd spill his story, fighting back tears for his heartbreaking life. Lines of anguish marred his handsome face, and I knew more horrific details were bubbling up