Kristen Ashley - Own the Wind

Shy’s mind filled with all things Tabby. This meant it filled really fucking full.

He drew in another deep breath and looked down at the man in the dirt.

Then he declared, “I’m feelin’ creative.”

The vibe in the room shifted, Shy’s head lifted, he looked to Tack and he found him smiling.

Shy rode hard, his mind blank except for one thing.

Or pairs of them but they were all the same.

All the same.

He hadn’t thought of them for years. They’d been lost a long time. So long, he almost forgot about them.

Tonight, he was getting them back.

He drove his bike up into a driveway he hadn’t seen in years. He didn’t even drive down this street. He got nowhere near this fucking place.

He walked to the door, pressed the doorbell and didn’t let go.

It was late, dark, it had to be well past midnight so he knocked. Loud. Hard. And he didn’t stop.

He saw a light go on in the window high in the door, the locks turned and the door was thrown open.

“Park, son, jeez. What on earth? Are you okay?” his uncle asked and Shy stared at him as saliva filled his mouth.

Then he pushed through him and prowled into the house.

“Park! What the heck?” his uncle yelled after him. “Where are you going?”

Shy took the steps two at a time.

He rounded the flight at the top and stalked down the hall, his uncle still yelling after him.

There she was, in her shapeless nightie, hair ratty from sleep, standing in the door to her bedroom staring at him, pale-faced, eyes wide with surprise.

“Parker, what on earth?” she asked.

“Where are they?” Shy asked back.

“Who?” she queried.

“Not who, what,” Shy clipped and didn’t stop. He pushed right through her, ignoring her startled, strangled screech. “Where are they?”

“What?” she asked, her voice now pitched high.

“Park,” his uncle called, his voice sharp. “Son, what in the hell are you doin’?”

Shy saw the jewelry box on her dresser and went right to it.

“Oh my God!” his aunt cried. “Timmy, he’s going for my jewelry.”

Shy stopped and turned.

“I knew it,” she hissed, her eyes on him as his uncle moved toward him. “You’re on drugs, aren’t you?”

“Where are they?” Shy asked.

“Where are what?” she snapped, her tone ugly.

The same shit as always.

Exactly.

“My mother’s earrings.”

Her hand flew to her throat and her face again got pale. His uncle stopped dead two feet away.

“Son?” his uncle called Shy’s attention to him so Shy gave him his attention.

“I am not your son.”

He watched his uncle wince.

His eyes went to his aunt. “Where are they?”

“I… they—” she began to babble but Shy’s uncle cut her off.

“Park, please. Come back at a decent hour. Obviously you have something on your mind. We’ll talk.”

Shy looked back to the man who failed to raise him after his father died. “We are not talking. I’m never fuckin’ seein’ you or that bitch again after I leave. But I’m leavin’ with my mother’s earrings.”

“Although I can see you’re in a mood, ” his aunt bit out, and Shy looked to her, “and I hate to fly in the face of that mood considering who you are and who you spend your time with, but I have to say that not only is this highly inappropriate, you barging in on your uncle and me in the middle of the night, but also you asking for those earrings.”

“My mother’s earrings,” Shy corrected, and she leaned in.

“ My earrings,” she sneered, and Shy’s chest started burning.

The bitch wasn’t done.

“Didn’t get much for taking you in, at least I got that.”

Shy stared at her. He then turned to his uncle. “I am not leaving without those earrings.”

“Parker—” his uncle started.

“I’m calling the cops!” his aunt announced loudly.

Shy ignored her and repeated, “I am not… leaving … without those earrings.”

He watched his uncle swallow.

Shy kept his eyes pinned to the man. “You give me those earrings, or I swear to fuckin’ Christ you will not see the end of this.. I will make every fuckin’ day of your life a misery either by makin’ it a misery or makin’ you wonder how I am next gonna make it a misery. You will know every one of my brothers, and you’ll know them well because they will make it a mission to make you, that bitch, and your good-for-nothin’ children miserable. Now you control that fuckin’ woman, get that goddamned phone out of her hand, and give me my mother’s earrings.”

“Ellen, put the phone down,” his uncle said instantly.

“I will not,” she snapped.

“Woman, put the goddamned phone down,” he clipped, shocking the shit out of Shy, who never, not once, heard his uncle speak that way to anybody. Especially not his aunt.

Shy didn’t look at the bitch but he felt the air in the room, already wired, go heavy.

He heard the phone hit the charger then his uncle ordered, “Get Parker his mother’s earrings.”

“Tim, that’s—”

“Don’t,” his uncle whispered. He drew in a deep breath, his eyes glued to his woman, then he went on, “For years, you rode me about this. Give me some goddamned peace. Give Parker some peace. Just give him his mother’s earrings.”

There was silence then movement and a hissed “This is just unbelievable.”

Shy shifted out of her way, not wanting to be anywhere near her.

Moments went by then he felt her standing close.

“Well? Take them,” she snapped.

His eyes moved to her, she looked into them and quailed.

He looked back at his uncle. “I’ll need a bag.”

“Do you want us to wrap up the silver so you can take that too?” she asked snidely.

Shy looked at her again. “I want you, for once, to put away those goddamned fangs, and by that I mean, shut the fuck up.”

“I knew you were a bad seed,” she shot back.

“Like usual, not payin’ a lick of attention,” Shy returned.

“Really?” she asked sarcastically. “Oh. Right. In the circles you run, threatening middle-of-the-night visits are probably mandatory.”

“No, but when they happen, they’re fun,” Shy replied casually.

She snorted.

“Ellen just, please, go get him a bag,” his uncle cut in.

She threw his uncle a look and stomped out.

Shy dropped his eyes to his boots.

“Is there something that prompted this evening’s visit, Parker?” his uncle asked, and Shy looked to him.

“Yes,” he answered.

His uncle waited. Shy was quiet.

The man tried something else, “Landon home safe?”

“Yes,” Shy stated but said no more.

“Well, thank God for that.”

Shy didn’t reply.

His uncle lifted a hand his way. “Son, I—”

“Save it,” Shy bit out and he shut his mouth.

Seconds slid by.

Then his uncle tried again. “Maybe, with your aunt not there, we should find a time to sit down and talk.”

“And maybe that’s never gonna happen,” Shy returned. “Maybe I like it better knowin’ that my brother’s a soldier, a brave man, puttin’ his ass on the line for this country. Maybe I like knowin’ that I got a woman, gettin’ a house, and soon we’re gonna make a family. Maybe I like knowin’ that you know that you had not one thing to do with the good that’s in us, the good that came to us, the good we deserve, the good we’re gonna make. Maybe I like knowin’ that you know that we had to escape this prison in order to carve out that goodness. Maybe I like knowin’ that your kids don’t give one shit about you because they think you’re as weak as I do, and they only have time for their mother because they know she’ll give them shit they ask for.”