Fever Page 21

  Michael was my savior.

  Saving me from my nightmares, from the heart-crushing sadness of the ER, and giving me the greatest gift of all—happiness.

  The End

  TOUCHING SCARS

  Stacy Borel

  Prologue

  “Are you going to Megan’s party tonight?” Ryan said, throwing the football to Timber.

  “Probably not. I didn’t finish my Biology project that was due last week, and Mr. Kent said I had to get it in to him by Monday or else I get a zero. I’ve already lost thirty points because it’s late.” Timber extended his arm and threw the ball back to Adam.

  “I wouldn’t even bother. You already have an A in that class, what’s a missing project going to do, drop you down to an A minus?” Adam said sarcastically. “Besides, I heard there is going to be a keg.”

  Timber glared over at him. “It will lower my GPA, asshole, and I need that scholarship. I don’t have parents that pay for everything.”

  Adam shrugged with indifference, and flipped him off.

  Timber Nelson had to work for everything he had. His mom had been a secretary for the past ten years at Bay City Elementary School, and his dad had been the sheriff of the town since he could remember. It wasn’t as if they were poor, but they didn’t always have the money to go on lavish vacations or live in the exclusive communities that his friends parents did in Bay City, Texas. And unfortunately, it also meant that Timber didn’t have a college fund. His parents had saved as much as they could while he was growing up, but last year his father didn’t get reelected and they had to dip into the money they’d set aside to pay the bills. Timber ended up getting a job at a local Market Basket stocking shelves and bagging groceries, so he could start up a new savings account and put away as much money as possible. He knew he was going to need extra money for any added expenses the scholarship he’d been working for, wouldn’t cover.

  Although he was never jealous of his friends and their pompous lifestyles, with the fancy cars, brand name clothes, or new gadgets, this was something that he envied of them. They would get to attend whatever college that accepted them, and not have to worry about how they would pay for their next meal or how they would buy their books.

  Still looking at Adam, he noticed that his friend had thrown the ball, except he hadn’t thrown it towards him. He had thrown it wide and over Timber’s left shoulder. Two things happened in the moments leading up to the incident. First, he noticed that Adam had a Cheshire cat of a grin plastered on his face. The second thing was the ball seemed as it if was moving in slow motion and headed straight for the dark haired girl that had been running around the track.

  “Hey, look out,” Timber hollered to Katherine, the girl that was running. The football was spiraling right toward her and Timber cringed as he watched it hit her in the back. She lurched forward and stumbled, falling onto her hands and knees. Her glasses went flying off her face in the process, landing on the pavement.

  Timber’s friends all stood there laughing while he watched her roll over into a sitting position and rub the dirt off her knees with her scratched up palms. From where he was standing, he could see that she had tears streaming down her cheeks. His friends were such dicks. They teased any kid in school that his crowd didn’t hang out with, which was essentially anybody that wasn’t good looking or athletic. Katherine wasn’t an ugly girl, but she wasn’t the most beautiful either. However, Adam seemed to take extra pleasure is harassing her. Why he gave it to her the most, Timber didn’t know. He was never one to bully, but he never did anything to stop it. Maybe that made him as bad as his friends, maybe not, but now, looking over his shoulder at Katherine wiping a tear from her face, he felt sorry for her. He wanted to go see if she needed any help, but being badgered by the guys seemed too high a price to pay. Timber simply stood and watched as Katherine got up on shaky legs, found her glasses, and walked to the outside locker room door.

  Timber couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. He stood there and watched Katherine walk until she disappeared behind the gymnasium door. He turned to Adam and shoved him hard in the shoulder.

  “What the fuck, man. Why are you always giving that girl a hard time?”

  Adam shot him a cocky grin. “Why are you so concerned? You have something for this chick?”

  “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

  His friend’s grin slowly slipped into a frown. “She’s just a face in the masses, man.” Adam held his arms wide, gesturing for Timber to look at the other students milling around. “I didn’t realize you felt for those who are beneath you.”

  Timber had heard shit like this from him since they were kids and Adam had started looking down his nose at people, just like his father. Adam’s dad was the mayor of Bay City. Dirty politics and blackmail were just two of the things that he’d picked up from his dad. But his ego, that selfish prick that reared its ugly head just like it was right now, was all his. He thought that he was entitled.

  “Fuck you, man. I don’t look down at people and you know it,” Timber gritted out.

  “Could have fooled me. You did nothing to go help poor little Katherine,” Adam smirked.

  Timber took a menacing step forward, but Ryan put his hand on his shoulder.

  “Leave it alone,” Ryan said, low enough for only Timber to hear.

  Glaring at Adam, he took in a deep breath through his nose, and turned to walk away.

  “That’s what I thought.” Adam’s laugh caused Timber’s hands to clench into fists. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing you at the party.”

  Timber walked to his beat up old ’66 Mustang and peeled his sweaty shirt off. Reaching into his vehicle, he pulled out a clean tee and pulled it over his head. He considered heading home and getting to work on his science project, but he couldn’t get himself to leave.

  He sat in his car for over thirty minutes, waiting for Katherine to come out. Timber couldn’t explain why he felt the need to know that she was okay, but the fact remained, he would feel better if he saw her without any tears on her face. He’d never felt concerned like this before about any of the other pathetic kids that his friends teased. Maybe he was a heartless bastard for thinking that they were deserving of the ridicule, but they never stood up to his friends and fought back. Why anybody would stand there and take the shit that Adam, Ryan, or any of the other athletes dished out, he’d never know. But this girl… even though he’d seen Adam target her before, this time something in him made him feel sorry for her. Timber saw her tears, he felt the need to go to her and help her up and brush the dirt off of her cuts.

  Gripping the steering wheel, his knuckles white, Timber’s eyes zeroed in on the dark haired girl that came walking out of the same door she went in, less than an hour ago. Katherine had bandages on both of her knees. She was struggling to pull what looked like a very heavy backpack up over her slight shoulders. Timber watched her as she made her way to an old silver Toyota Corolla. After she hefted her backpack into the back seat, she shut the door and stood there, gazing down at the pavement. Her body sagged, and she looked up, her eyes scanning the nearly empty parking lot.

  When she made eye contact with him, her expression changed. Katherine straightened her slumped shoulders and tipped her chin up. She was trying to show something to him. Her left hand came up and she pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. Timber decided to go speak to her. He opened his car door and got out. As he walked towards her, he noticed that her previous look of self-assuredness wavered. She shifted from one foot to another, watching him intently as he neared her. When Timber was standing directly in front of her, he looked down.

  “What do you want? Did you come over here to shove me on the ground and cut my tires?” Her lip quivered, but she held it together. “Go ahead. I don’t care what you do to me.”

  Timber had never actually inspected Katherine before. He never noticed how her almond shaped eyes held a hint of green amongst brown. They were absolutely beautiful. She hid them behind h
er dark rimmed glasses, and unless you were standing this close, you couldn’t see the exact color. He also noticed her lips were full and had a slight pout. What would it be like to kiss her? Closing his eyes tightly, Timber shook himself of the erratic thoughts.

  “Are you just going to stand there? Do your worst,” she spat.

  He opened his eyes. “My worst? You think I came over here to hurt you?”

  Katherine looked up at him skeptically. “Well, you’re no better than your asshole friends, so yeah, of course you would.”

  Timber’s jaw clenched. She actually thought he would do the same thing Adam did? “I’m not like them. It wasn’t like I was the one that threw the fucking football.”

  She looked down, and her long, dark brown hair made a curtain around her face. “You might as well have,” she mumbled.

  “Excuse me?” Her words took Timber aback.

  She glanced back up at him with confusion in her eyes. “You heard me. You might as well have. Did you even bother to stop your friend from throwing it at me? Did you laugh right along with them when my back was turned? No, wait. You probably plotted to see what you guys could do to hurt the poor nerdy girl. What would embarrass her the most?”

  Katherine was mad now and was firing accusations at him that pissed him off. “You have a lot of nerve. I’ve never done anything to you.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Yes, you have.” Her lips quirked up in a rueful smile. “Frankly, I’d say that you are the worst out of all of them. You know what they’re doing, and yet you stand there and let them. You all walk around this school like you rule the place, and you pick on everybody that isn’t a clone of you. Well guess what, Timber,” she said his name with so much hate that it rocked him, “I am different. I care about people, and I don’t walk around pushing and shoving them, making them feel like they are less than me.”

  Timber was speechless. Nobody had ever spoken to him this way. Part of him was completely turned on by this feisty five foot three inch person in front of him. He’d had no idea that a wildcat was inside of this small package. But another part of him was hurting from the deep blow to his ego. He didn’t know how to respond to her accusations.

  Swallowing hard, Timber said words that he’d wanted to say to her when he saw her on the ground crying. “I’m sorry.”

  Katherine dropped her hands that were on her hips and walked around to the driver side door. “Save it, Timber. Your apology means nothing to me.” She was about to climb into her car but stopped. He saw tears glistening in her eyes. “Change.”

  “What?” Timber wanted to reach out to her and tell her not to cry, but it seemed like a completely illogical thing to do.

  “If you’re so different from them, then change. Stop being the guy on the side that accepts the mean things those guys say to people like me. Do something about it. Then maybe your apology will start to mean something.”

  With that, Katherine got into her car and drove away, leaving Timber standing there. As he walked back to his car, he made a choice. He couldn’t say that he would stop his friends from doing the same things that they’d always done to everyone else, but he would make sure that they left her alone. Her words had cut him like a knife, and sometimes the truth really fucking hurt.

  Chapter One

  Timber

  “Sir, can I get you something to drink?”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “Can I get you something to drink?”

  I glanced up at the flight attendant that was looking at me expectantly. She had a smile on her face that I was certain was forced. I had a feeling she had been standing there trying to get my attention for a while. I was off in my own head. Being up in the air without any sleep for the past eighteen hours had messed with my head. Our first stop was in Bangor, Maine. It would be the first time I stepped foot on American soil in over a year.

  Though the woman was attractive, I wanted her to stop looking at me. Her eyes watched me with weariness, as if she knew where I was coming from and she felt sorry for me. I didn’t want her fucking pity. I wanted to feel numb.

  “Crown and coke,” I bit out.

  She nodded and began pouring the smooth amber into a plastic cup. She’d given me two of those mini bottles which I appreciated. I pulled a twenty dollar bill out of my wallet and handed it to her and told her to keep the change. When she handed me my cup, she stood there while I tipped my head back and swallowed the cup’s contents in three gulps. It would take a few minutes for the alcohol to warm my blood, and I was feeling more and more irritated that I was being scrutinized by this stranger. I turned towards her, handed her the empty cup and gave her a stiff smile.

  “Thanks.”

  The smile that was plastered on her face faltered when she saw the hardness in my eyes. She nodded, moving on to the next row. Thank fuck. I was pretty sure if she had stood there any longer I would have told her we could take the staring into the lavatory and she could stare at me while I fucked her from behind and she watched in the mirror. I may be screwed up in the head, but I’m still a man with needs. In fact, I wondered if I should pull her back with me and do it anyway. Maybe having sex would help me forget.

  I rolled my eyes at my own thoughts. Meaningless sex with someone might give me a temporary release, but it wouldn’t stop the nightmares that came every time I closed my eyes. All I could see were the faces of my friends, my brothers. I leaned my head back and stared at the headrest in front of me, refusing to let sleep pull me under.

  An hour later, we were making our approach to Bangor International Airport. I’d been here before after my first tour in Iraq. That was three years ago. At the time, I was happy to be home and truly enjoyed the welcome wagon that greeted us as we got off the plane. This time, I was dreading it. Veterans from the area come and meet us, to thank us for our service, and shake our hands. They wave flags, and other people in the airport stop what they are doing and clap. I know that they don’t know what it’s like over there. They don’t know what I’ve seen, and I know they are just showing me their gratitude. But this time I don’t want their happy smiles and ‘thank you’s’. I want to be getting off the plane with my full squad. I just want to walk through the terminal, find a seat, and sit down until I have to board my next flight. I want quiet. Unfortunately I don’t think I’ll be finding my peace ever again.

  It was exactly as I predicted. The double doors that lead out to the terminal seating was surrounded on each side by old men wearing their covers and retired military uniforms, saluting each of us. Men, women, and a few children were amongst the vets with small American flags, smiling and clapping. Damn if it didn’t make my heart ache. I nodded at the few servicemen that made eye contact with me. As soon as I was passed them, I set my carry-on down in the chair beside me. Taking a deep breath in through my nose and exhaling, I tried to calm my taut muscles. I felt tightly wound, like I would blow at any point.

  I had closed my eyes, but I felt a tap on my thigh. When I opened them, I was looking at a little dusty, blond haired boy that had to have been no older than five.

  “Mister, are you a soldier?”

  His innocent eyes soothed me. “Yes, I am.” I answered him in a quiet voice.

  “Cool. I want to be a soldier when I get big.” Big blue eyes lit up his face.

  “Well, that’s a good goal, but you make sure you go to school first.”

  He paused and looked over at who I assumed must have been his mother walking towards us.

  “Have you killed a bad guy before?”

  Immediately the tenseness slammed in my gut and I shut my mouth before I said something stupid, like “go the fuck away, kid, or not as many as I should have.” Thankfully, his mother came and grabbed him, apologizing for bothering me as she led him away. I leaned forward with my elbows on my knees and ran a hand through my hair. Another thirty minutes passed without being bothered. When my next flight began to board, I settled into my seat for the seven hour leg.

  *********
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  In a small suburb of Houston, the cab pulled up to the curb of a brick ranch styled house. I pulled out forty dollars and got out. I grabbed my duffle and rucksack and walked up to the door. All of the homes on the street were very cookie cutter, with the same manicured lawns, flowers lining the walkways to the front doors, and a neatly trimmed bush under each window. I still didn’t understand why my dad chose to live in this neighborhood. The house was more than he needed, but I think he got it because it was a house my mom would have loved.

  Mom passed away during my first tour in Iraq. They let me come home on emergency leave to attend her funeral and help my dad get his affairs in order. She had passed away from a sudden heart attack. Our entire community was shocked. She was a seemingly healthy woman. She exercised regularly and ate well. The doctors told us after they performed an autopsy that her heart had a defect that caused the lining of her aorta to be thin. It ruptured one night while my mom was watching Wheel of Fortune on the couch. It was so sudden that she bled out in less than a minute and couldn’t call for help. My dad was beside himself.

  When my first tour was over, he had a ‘for sale’ sign in front of the house and he said he couldn’t live there anymore. He didn’t find comfort in the memories behind those walls. I didn’t blame him for feeling that way. The sadness crushed me every time I walked in the door. But now he was living here in Friendswood, Texas, in a house that was everything she would have loved. I’ve never called him out and asked why he chose this place, but I was certain it was because of Mom. I just wished that he was still in Bay City so his friends and church members could keep him company.

  As I walked in the front door, I called out my dad’s name.

  “Back here, Timber.”

  He was outside, sitting on the back porch, drinking a beer and smoking a cigar. The past year his age had caught up with him. He used to tell me, “You’re only as young as you feel.” Well, I guess my mom’s death made him feel every bit of his sixty-three years. When I came into view, he stood up from his wooden rocking chair and greeted me with a tight hug and a slap on the back.