15. Billie

15

Billie

The sun blares through the window, and I want to kick myself for not shutting the blinds last night. Waking at the ass crack of dawn isn’t amusing.

I turn my face on the pillow and see a battered brown leather notebook with frayed corners on the bedside table. I jump out of bed and unplug the side lamp, holding it up as I scan the room. I’m not sure how much damage I can do with it if someone’s in here, but it gives me a sense of security that fosters my bravery.

My phone buzzes. A text. I grab it.

Unknown:No one’s in your room. I dropped the book off last night while you were sleeping. Read it.

Me: Who the hell is this?

Unknown:Just read the note, Billie Goat.

Lars.

I place the lamp down and walk over to the book, brushing my fingers over it. It has the texture of good quality leather that becomes softer and more flexible with time.

The bed creaks as I sit on the edge and place the book in my lap. I sit for what seems like an eternity, staring at it. Unsure if I want to unleash whatever it holds.

Gently, I open the book and read the first line.

I lost her today.

The dock is a haunted memory of the love that used to be.

I’ve turned my back on her raven hair, finding my world in utter despair.

Rage took hold, and a garden bloomed.

Now I serve a dark master consumed by doom.

I lost her today. But what I truly forgot is me.

I lost her today. Now living simply for yesterday.

Acid burns my throat as another with midnight hair leaves my bed.

I lost her today.

The margin notes catch my eye. Written in large block letters.

I fucking love you, Billie.

Page after page consumed with lyrics and poems with notes to me.

I’m sorry, Billie.

Please forgive me, Billie.

I’m an idiot, Billie.

How can I live without half my heart?

Cain hates me sometimes. Can’t blame him. I’m surprised he’s still here.

The only time I don’t feel dead inside is when Cain hits me. Who would’ve thought being beaten black and blue would numb the pain? Well, at least for a short time. Then I come down, and terror stirs in my heart because you’re not here, Billie.

Tears brim my eyes as I read Lars’ words. I recognize the lyrics from my two favorite Gutless Void albums and finally realize why they mean so much to me. They’re about us. The four of us. The pain, the love, the rejection.

Lars wrote about it all, put everything in his lyrics, and bared his soul to random strangers as catharsis. Lars chose words carefully. He guarded them under a cloak with his emotions, only taking them out when he was alone. He was raised by a woman who taught him that his words didn’t make a difference in how others treated him.

Nervous energy coursed through my body. My foot tapped repetitively, and my fingers drummed my thigh. I glanced at Lars, his eyes focused on the road, lips moving to the lyrics blasting from the speakers. He didn’t speak a word until we got to his house.

He turned the music off, and we sat in silence, staring at the small bungalow with peeling siding and decaying wooden steps leading to a small porch with a white plastic chair by the door.

“It’s not much now, but it used to look good.” He pointed to the front door. “The door was blue, and we painted the porch yellow. My dad repainted it every year. He was a little obsessive about it. Apparently, he used the wrong paint. Two years after he died, it all went to shit. I wanted to fix it up, but by that time, money was scarce. Everything we had, she sold. I’m sure we’d lose the house if it weren’t in my name.”

“Your dad left the house to you?”

Lars cut the engine. “On the stipulation that my mom lives there as long as she wants, but she can’t sell it. The property has been in my father’s family for over two hundred years.”

Lars opened the door and got out before coming to my side. I smiled when he opened my door, offering me his hand.

I’d never asked to see his house. I’d never even talked to him about his mother; I’d let him talk at the meetings and left it at that. Dealing with addict parents was difficult at best, and I knew better than anyone how, as their children, we carried a sense of shame and dread. But after the meeting, he’d asked me to go for a drive, and we ended up here.

Lars kissed my hand and tugged me toward the little house. But as we entered the doorway, reality punched me in the face.

Roxanne Morgan was naked beside a big man with a needle sticking out of her arm.

Lars said nothing. He turned, grabbed my arm roughly, and dragged me back out.

“Lars, you okay?” I asked worriedly as I saw the tears he fought to hold back.

Seeing Lars cry was alarming. When he experienced sorrow, it was a bone-deep, chilling dread caused by despair. His tears were misery trapped in the belief that love brought no joy, no hope of happiness, and no promise for a brighter future.

As I bore witness to the tears silently falling from his golden eyes, my heart ached in ways I couldn’t understand or explain. I only knew that I never wanted to create that magnitude of strife in his life. I would be a source of solace for him, someone he could turn to in times of need. His shelter from the storm. I’d do for him what his mother couldn’t. I would love him.

A knock at the door interrupts my thoughts. I wipe the tears from my face, shut the notebook, and walk to the door.

Cain stands there, hair disheveled, eyes bloodshot. He looks tired, but I can only see how handsome he is. I smile and move aside so he can enter.

He kisses my cheek. “You forgive him yet?”

“Shouldn’t you be more worried about whether I’ve forgiven you?”

He leans against the desk in the corner. “I’m not the one you’re mad at.”

“You’re awfully cocky.”

Cain smirks, and I swear my panties incinerate. “We both know that’s true.”

It’s always been easier with Cain. He’s better at caring. He shows kindness and love effortlessly.

It was Cain who attracted me first. The tall, tatted, motorcycle-driving bad boy had given shelter to two lost souls because he could.

Cain is a juxtaposition, hard on the outside, but one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met. Maybe that’s why I’m not as hurt by him. Deep down, I understand that he did what he felt was right—made an impossible choice with the least amount of fallout. But Lars had cut me to the bone.

“Am I supposed to forget everything because of some lyrics he wrote for me?”

“No,” Cain says, shaking his head. “You’re supposed to forgive him because you love him.” His hands move to the bottom of his black sweater, and he pulls it over his head.

“What are you doing?”

Cain smirks, and my anger grows to new heights. He steps toward me and grabs my wrist.

I stare at his thenar web space and notice the word “Satan” in cursive. “Did you get Lars’ stage name tattooed on your hand?”

Cain’s chuckle is a deep rumble. He lifts his other hand, where “Tinkerbell” is etched in the same place. “Got one for you, too. Did you not notice when I had my hand wrapped around your throat?”

I didn’t.

I was so immersed in the mind-blowing sex that small details were the last thing on my mind.

Cain steps closer, and the sexual allure of his body makes my head spin all over again.

I shake my head. “I’m not going to fuck you right now.”

“Slow your roll, Billie.” He places my palm against his chest. “Did you know Lars hasn’t seen me without my shirt for nine years?”

“What? How is that possible?”

“I usually top him, and he doesn’t question it. Just goes with the flow.”

I gaze at my hand on his chest, noticing the black ink beneath. “Why?”

Cain lifts my hand, exposing his flesh, and I gasp. A broken heart formed from half of my face and half of Lars’ is etched on his skin.

“Because of this. You mean something to me. To him. We’ve survived without you, but that’s all we’ve done. A moment of joy always lives in the shadow of immense loss. I knew it wouldn’t bring you back, but I wanted a tangible reminder of you. So it’s the two pieces of my heart that have remained broken since the day I lost you.”

No single emotion can fit this moment because they all fight for dominance. Pain from the years I’ve lost with Cain. Sadness at how much he suffered by choosing between two people he cared for deeply. Anger that Lars could have talked to us instead of shutting me out and making Cain pick up the broken pieces alone. But above all these emotions, the loudest is love. My love for both these men has burned all these years and will burn for as long as I draw breath.

Cain gently places his fingers under my chin, his eyes somber and warm. “You think this is impressive? You should see the tats he’s sporting.”

My throat closes as a lump forms, and breathing becomes difficult. “Some ink doesn’t make the past disappear. It doesn’t wipe away the guilt, the pain, the struggle. You two left me behind and didn’t look back until I showed up on your doorstep.”

“Did you see the book? I’ve got one too. Full of lyrics. We never left you, Billie. Not in our hearts, not in our minds, and not in our souls.” Cain grips my hand as he bends to capture my eyes. “Forgive him, Billie, because if you don’t, I’ll be back in the same spot I was ten years ago. I’ll have to pick again, and this time, I’ll pick you.”

“No!” I shout, ripping my hands from his grasp. “You can’t put that kind of pressure on me. I won’t be the reason you’re miserable for the rest of your life. You don’t get to do this to me, Cain. You’re not walking away from music. What you two have is magic, and I won’t be slandered as some fuckin’ Yoko Ono.”

Cain shrugs. “Lennon did some good work after the Beatles. So did McCartney.”

“But they were never the same.”

“You better forgive Lars, then.”

I want to forgive Lars. There’s nothing I want more than to be in the arms of these two men. But the pain of the past still sits heavy on my heart, and as much as I want to shake it off, I can’t.

Logically, I understand we were kids. Not even the average kind. The trauma of our respective homes did so much damage, leaving scars inside and out. We were kids from dysfunctional homes. We were broken in so many ways. Until we found each other, we didn’t know what love was. That’s why my heart hurt so badly when I no longer had them to turn to.

Cain frames my face with his large hands. “We love you, Billie. We’ve always loved you. I promise you’ll never regret it if you come back to us.” He kisses my head and pulls me to him. “Come back to us.”

“Where is he?” I whisper against Cain’s solid chest.

“In our suite. I’m pretty sure we’re gonna have a huge ass bill for the damage and never be welcomed back.”