“What’s the real reason?” I cut her off. I’ve got a pretty good idea why she left her home, but I want her to tell me.
She doesn’t answer, but instead surprises me with a question of her own. One she’s asked before and got a curt answer in return.
She’s smart and playing my own game against me.
“What’s your real name?”
I take another swig of my beer and set it on the table, keeping my fingers wrapped around the cold bottle and tapping my thumb on the glass. I feel the heat of Remi’s eyes on me as I stare out into the yard, contemplating on giving her that part of myself. She’ll no doubt be surprised that she’s unknowingly given her son the same name as me. Not many people know my given name, and I like to keep it that way.
I lock my eyes with her and give her what she wants.
“Elijah.” The name still feels weird rolling off my tongue. Until recently, it’s been years since I’ve said it.
Confusion scrunches her face before her eyes dart to the partially open door behind us, thinking I said her son’s name. Her hands grip the arms of her chair as if to get up and check on him, when realization dawns. Her eyes widen, and her mouth drops open.
“Wait,” she says in disbelief. “Your name is…”
“Elijah.” I nod and finish for her.
She blinks several times. “Wow. What a coincidence, huh?”
“Yeah,” I grunt and snatch up my beer again.
“So, why Trouble?”
I cock a brow and glance at her in question.
“How did you get that nickname?”
“When we were kids, I was th
e one who was always causing trouble.”
She frowns, and I know what she’s thinking.
“Despite the one time a month that we were all forced to endure hell, our childhoods were pretty normal. Kids riding bikes or playing video games. School, homework, and hot summers filled with swimming in the pool. Nightly family dinners and bedtime stories. Waking up on Christmas morning to find that Santa left our favorite toys.”
I get up to check the steaks, but keep talking.
“Our parents didn’t abuse us in any other way, except on Hell Night. That’s what’s so disturbing about it all. They teased us with the good, but the bad far outweighed it by a mile.”
I flip the lid closed and lean against the railing.
“I hated what they did to us, just as much as every other kid, but I hated it more that every other day of the month they seemed like loving and caring parents. It was fake. I didn’t want them doting on me and my sister. I didn’t want their love because it wasn’t real. No parent who loves their child could ever do what they did. I acted out, trying to bring on their hate. I wanted them to show their true selves.”
Tears brim in Remi’s eyes and it’s the last thing I want to see. I turn and look out into the back yard. The chair creaks behind me and a moment later, I see her shadow approach. My jaw hardens when I feel her hand rest on the center of my back.
“You don’t like the name Elijah, do you?” Her question is quiet and hesitant, like she fears my answer.
“I fuckin’ hate it,” I answer truthfully.
Her fingers twitch on my back and then her hand falls away. I turn and find her head down. Grabbing her chin with my thumb and index fingers, I lift it until I see her eyes. The hurt there sends pricks of pain to my sternum.
“I’ll never associate myself with that name again. I was weak and scared and in so much pain when people called me Elijah. I’ll never be that person again.” I cup the side of her neck and run my thumb along the underside of her chin. “But that boy in there is not me. He’ll never go through the shit I went through. With him, Elijah means strength and love, because that’s what you’ll give him. He’ll have everything I didn’t, and that’s the way it should be. Just because I hate the name for myself, doesn’t mean he shouldn’t carry it proudly.”
A tear leaks down her cheek, and although I’m sure her emotions are still high from the sudden hormonal changes in her body recently, I know some of them are genuine.
I lean down and kiss away the tear. Her breath hitches and one of her hands land on my lower stomach. My ab muscles tighten. I grip her around the waist, spin, and hoist her up onto the porch railing. As I force my hips between her legs, her watchful eyes searing me with her beautiful blue gaze, I know I’m making a mistake, but I’m past the point of caring. I didn’t invite her here to maul her. I simply wanted to get to know her while I have the chance. I should have known better, that being around her and keeping my hands to myself was something I’d have no hope of accomplishing. She’s too damn tempting.