Wrong Question, Right Answer (The Bourbon Street Boys #3) - Elle Casey Page 0,18
what it wants. Our neighborhood family was really close, all of us hanging out near Bourbon Street, getting into trouble. We were a group of kids who did everything together, good or bad. None of us had much of a moral compass back then. Ozzie’s influence came later. Even though I was only fifteen years old, I knew something between Lucky and me would’ve messed everything up for the whole group of us. I pushed him away that night and ran. I don’t even remember how I got home after the dance; I may have hitched a ride, knowing me. But that kiss burned my lips for years after.
I resist the urge to reach up and touch my mouth. I swear I can still feel his touch from Friday night.
It was the decision I made the night of that dance ten years ago—to stay away from Lucky and preserve our family unit—that drove me into Charlie’s arms. I told myself I needed to find a boyfriend so I could get my mind off Lucky and let him know that I wasn’t available, and Charlie was just there: the quintessential bad boy, with his motorcycle and his leather jacket, smoking a pack of filterless Camels a day. He’d noticed me before, offered me a smoke, a ride on his bike. I’d ignored him up until then, but I stopped after Lucky’s kiss.
I dove right in, committing myself fully to letting him wreck my life. At the time, I thought he was perfect for me, of course. I didn’t see what was right there in front of my face: alcoholic, abusive father who was in and out of jail; a temper he couldn’t control; a chip on his shoulder so big there wasn’t room for much else in his life.
We were together for a lot of years, but it was never a happy pairing. Bouts of tormented passion alternated with periods punctuated by drunken arguments and drag-out fights; the relationship was physical on many levels. For a long time, I was able to hide the bruises from the guys. I played sports, so I could easily blame the other team. But one day Thibault caught Charlie shaking me hard, making my head snap back and forth, and he got suspicious.
After that, they all kept a closer eye on me, and it was only a matter of time before they busted him hurting me. That was my senior year; Charlie had been out of school for a while. I should’ve ended the relationship then. Hell, I should’ve ended it long before then, but I was addicted. I was addicted to Charlie, I was addicted to the adrenaline, and I was addicted to the pain. Suffice it to say, I was in a very low place.
I don’t blame Lucky for any of it. He never would’ve wanted that stuff for me, and he’d offered up affection that would never have brought me pain. I just couldn’t take it. My adopted street family was too important to me, even before we started working as the Bourbon Street Boys team.
I should’ve left after the first time Charlie got rough with me, I know that now. But back then, I was too rebellious to do the right thing. I made excuses for him. My brother tried to warn me off him, but I wasn’t going to let anyone tell me what to do or how to do it.
I guess I’m still a lot like that, but I want to believe that I can look in my rearview mirror from time to time and see the mistakes I’ve made so I can avoid making them a second time. That’s why I don’t date and why I don’t let guys pick me up in bars. It’s better that I just stay away from guys I don’t know, since I can’t trust myself to pick one who’s good for me.
Unfortunately, I didn’t learn my lesson the easy way. I haven’t done anything the easy way. I stayed with Charlie until it got really bad, and I ended up in the hospital. Then when I finally tried to get away, it was too late; Charlie was just as addicted to our sick relationship as I was.
He came after me one night after I’d moved out, five years ago, and I did the only thing I thought I could do to end it. When he broke down my door and came at me, I shot him.