Lies Beneath the Surface (Buried Secrets 2)

“I woke up to the sound of metal grindin’ against metal. I walked outside to see him backin’ over top of my bike, and crushin’ into my truck. I ran inside to pull on my shoes, but he jumped from the truck and literally ripped the damn screen door from the hinges to get inside. We fought, tore shit all to pieces, but when my old man heard what was happenin’, he pulled Colton off of me. He left and that was that.”

“Luke, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe he attacked you like that.”

“It’s not your fault, Carly. I was more worried about you than I was me. The bike is replaceable and the truck just has some dents in the back. I’m just glad that you aren’t too shook up. He didn’t hurt you did he?” Luke asks, wrapping his hand around mine. I look away as his baby blues pierce mine. Luke always has a way of seeing beyond the exterior. I can’t hide much from him, but I at least try.

“Physically, no. He scared me shitless and ripped my heart from my chest…nothing I ain’t used to.” I shrug, acting like my lifeless heart is no big deal. “I know I hurt him, but I never intended too. I expected him to be upset, but I didn’t expect him to react the way he did.”

He cups my face in his hand, rubbing the pad of his thumb across my cheek, saying, “He’ll get over it, Carly. He just needs to cool off and get his head on straight. I’m here though, you know that right?”

I offer him a slight smile, standing up to throw away the used first aid supplies. “I know, Luke…and I am so thankful for your friendship. I’ll give Colton some time to cool off, but for now I’m too exhausted to breathe, let alone think about all of this mess.” I swirl my finger in the air at the shit storm. “Thanks for coming by to check up

on me.” Luke stands to leave, but not before pulling me into a bear hug.

“Don’t beat yourself up over all this shit. Just think of it all as Karma bitin’ him in the ass. He’ll come to his senses. Call me if you need anything.”

After Luke leaves, I try to call Colton one last time before going to bed. When the call goes to voicemail, I don’t even bother with leaving a message. There is no changing the past. He of all people should understand that. But like Luke suggested, he will come around eventually; if he doesn’t leave me all alone, just like he did eight years ago.

Chapter 6

I’ve never felt so torn apart in my life. Betrayal rushes through me as she mumbles the words across her lips. Words I never dreamed that I would hear her mutter, crush me to dust.

Over the last eight years I’ve suffered an insurmountable deal of heartache. I nearly lost myself to addiction, but I bounced back and regained hope that one day I’d hold my precious darlin’ in my arms again. But this time I’d hold her forever. Somehow I managed to let her slip through my fingers and into the arms of another man.

Hearin’ Carly Jo’s gut wrenchin’ confession, pressure builds in my head, causin’ me to sway lightly on my feet. I shake my head to clear the cloudy fog that’s blanketin’ me and realize I’ve been holdin’ my breath. It’s in there, somewhere; lodged between my heart and my lungs. I blow the air out hard and a husky grumble comes right along with it. I yell at Carly Jo, words I can’t even remember sayin’, then storm out the front door.

My truck rips from her driveway, leavin’ thick smoke in my wake. I punch the steerin’ wheel as I speed down the windin’ road. I knew when I saw her with him today that something was off. All of the warnin’ signs pointed to him, but I let her deceive me playin’ me for the fool I am.

It takes me a minute to realize where I’m headed, until I cross the tracks at Millers Branch. Redneck Crazy by Tyler Farr booms from the speakers and I know just what the hell I’m gonna do. You ain’t seen redneck crazy ‘til you’ve seen Colton frickin’ Weston completely unhinged.

Approachin’ Luke’s house the fury inside me builds. I speed my truck forward, twist into his driveway crushin’ his Harley beneath my Silverado. Reverse. Repeat. Reverse. Repeat. I throw the truck in reverse one final time, then speed forward crashin’ into the side of his charcoal grey Silverado. Damn I hate the thought of damaging a beautiful Chevrolet, but when you mess with my woman, I’m gonna tear your shit apart, and turn your world upside down.

I see a flicker in the corner of my eye and when I turn to see what it is, I see Luke rushin’ back inside. Damn pussy. You can run, but you can’t hide. I throw the truck in park and two step my ass across the lawn and up the steps to his house. I grab the handle of the screen door and rip it from the hinges in one swift attempt at openin’ it. I toss the mangled remnants of the screen door behind me, then step inside in search of Luke.

He lunges at me just as I reach out to wrap one hand around his neck. I rear back with my right fist forcin’ all of my weight to crash against his face. When my knuckles meet the side of his jaw, his head slings to the side as he tries to stumble backward, dazed. But I have a firm grip against his throat and refuse to let go. I grip my index finger and thumb around his Adams apple, cuttin’ off his air, and continue to deliver bone crushin’ blows to his face. My fist slides against the blood streamin’ from the cut above his eye causin’ me to lose my grip on his throat. He gasps for air and growls as he rushes me, knockin’ me on top of the coffee table that don’t hold our weight. When the wobbly legs of the broken down table gives way, Luke presses his knee into my abdomen, bringin’ his elbow into the side of my cheek.

Minutes pass as our brawl escalates, and the house sounds like it’s fallin’ down around us. The TV screen has been busted, the coffee table lies crumpled in splinters against the floor under my back, pictures have fallen from the walls and whatnots are busted about the room. When I finally fight to get to my feet, Luke struggles with my strength as I shove him through the living room wall, bringin’ my fist into his stomach with a fierce sucker punch. As I bring my fist back, to deliver another blow, I feel cool steel against my neck and crisp click-clack echoin’ in my ear. I still my movements, bringin’ my hands up in the air to surrender. I take a step back, watchin’ Luke grip his waist as he doubles over in pain.

“Son, don’t know what y’alls brawlin’ over, but I think he’s had enough. So unless you want this bullet to come at ya fast, you better scoot your big ass on out my house.” The old man slurs.

I back out the door, keepin’ my eyes trained on Luke’s drunk old man. “You ain’t seen the last of me Ashton, you can count on it.” I say with a shaken breath before I step out the door.

I make my way to my truck and assess the damage of Luke’s bike and truck. The Harley, well what was once a Harley is embedded into the ground. There ain’t too much damage to the truck, aside from dents and scratches down the back fender and tailgate. I shake my head at the destruction I’ve caused, then laugh because it was worth it all.

I start home but all of the events of the night have crawled under my skin, and I just can’t control the tremors that wrack my body. Carly Jo has cut me so bad, I just want to forget it all; become numb to the pain. I make a quick pit stop, then make my way home to put this night behind me.

I pull a shot glass from the cabinet, fillin’ it to the rim with my favorite warm, amber liquid. I pull it to my lips, inhalin’ the strong scent with a tremblin’ hand. I’m torn between copin’ with the heartache, consumin’ this poison, or dealin’ with it sober. Honest to God, I just ain’t strong enough to cope with any of this shit bein’ sober. I pull in a deep breath, then toss the Jack back, wincin’ as the burn spreads throughout my throat. I set the shot glass down then brace myself against the edge of the counter top.

I’m petrified of the road that lies ahead. One small mistake on my part has my world tilted on its axis, spinnin’ at a mach speed. I know if I’d just told her about Eric’s addiction, I could have possibly prevented the accident. She wouldn’t have turned her back on me when I needed her the most. She wouldn’t have needed Luke that night had I just been honest. It seems honesty is the one thing we both lack in this so called relationship. I pour another round, tossin’ it back, but instead of Jack soothin’ me, I become enraged. I bust the shot glass against the backsplash leavin’ behind an imprinted dent in the tile, small shards of glass glistenin’ across the floor. I pull the bottle to my lips by the neck, and chug, ignorin’ the bite Jack leaves behind.

Walkin’ into the livin’ room, a picture on the mantel catches my eye and stops me dead in my tracks. I feel all of the blood drain from my face as I pick the picture up and truly look at it for what feels like the first time. Carly Jo is sittin’ in my lap with her cheek firmly pressed against mine, stickin’ her tongue out with a goofy smile on her face as she looks at our little photographer. I’m lookin’ down at her, entranced by her beauty and happiness. Heidi Jo was so proud of her photography, she insisted that we get a print made of the picture. Floppin’ down in the recliner, I feel like all of the oxygen has escaped my lungs. The image of the woman I love captured in this picture, is completely opposite of the image seared into my brain in this very moment.

I take a few minutes to reflect the situation laid at my feet. It all rewinds in my mind; her confession, the tears, the guilt clearly written across her face. But it’s still too much. I keep sippin’ on Jack, and lettin’ the gravity of the situation weigh me down harder as I continue to stare at the picture I have gripped in my hand. Before I know it, I’ve sucked the entire damn bottle dry.

A fifth of liquor after six years of sobriety is a lot for any one person. I’m a big man, but a mean drunk. The longer I drink, the madder I get. I storm into the kitchen to get the second bottle of liquor I bought for this momentous, heart rippin’ occasion. When I step on a shard of glass, embeddin’ it into my heel, I reach my breakin’ point of pain for the night. Physica

l pain, emotional pain. I’ve had my limit. I pluck the shard out of my foot as rage consumes me. Finally allowin’ the emotions to release, I want to scream, cry, bust somethin’. I want to inflict this gut wrenchin’ pain on someone else so they have to hurt with me. But I’m alone.

I stagger into the livin’ room, glancin’ down at the picture again and see a different picture. I see the depravity and the venom in her hazel eyes. She never intended to love me. Never wanted to stay. Never wanted a family and the love that only I could give her. I slam the picture down on the end table, bustin’ the glass from the frame. With one swift flip, the end table flies across the room, shatterin’ the lamp to the floor into a thousand pieces. I want every bit of her essence gone. I can’t stand the faint smell of her on my pillows, her hazel eyes glarin’ back at me from the pictures on my dressers. So I clean house, drunk Colton style.