Page 7 of Burning Demons (Burning Torments #1)

Chapter 7

Tate

Dad, Wren, and I got up way too early to catch breakfast before our fishing excursion Sunday morning. I was not thrilled. This was one of those sacrifice moments in life. Dad was all smiles as he loaded poles and tackle boxes into his truck. Then he was all laughs when he saw what I planned on wearing. Excuse me for not realizing fishing had a dress code.

My short-sleeved button-down was traded in for a stained-but-clean T-shirt. Wren gave me an old pair of basketball shorts he could no longer fit into that I had to roll the waist of to keep them from falling off. Dad tried to put a ridiculous hat on me, but Wren wasn’t wearing one, so that was a hard pass.

We stopped at IHOP to load up on calories on our way across town. Wren ate his full stack of pancakes, then eyed the second half of my strawberry banana ones I couldn’t finish.

“Here, bottomless pit.” I rolled my eyes and pushed the plate in front of him.

“I’m a growing boy, Momma.”

“Not your momma . She cooks better than me, I’m sure.”

“Oh, so that’s how to tell you two apart?”

“There’s more than that, asshole.”

Wren deftly dodged my attacks as I pinched his side in several places. He squirmed, laughed, and still managed to keep eating. I stopped when he chucked a sticky piece of pancake at my forehead.

“You’re gonna pay for that, Big Country,” I growled.

“So scared, City Boy. What will you do? Make me iron your sweaters? Be warned, I’ll burn ’em.”

“You don’t iron sweaters, dumb shit.”

We froze as a soft chuckle invaded our moment. Dad shook his lowered head with his shoulders curled inward in amusement.

“Uh, sorry, Dad.”

He laughed again, but his eyes frowned. “For what? You boys are entertaining. Better get it all out now so you don’t frighten the fish.”

He didn’t seem angry, but the abrupt reminder of who I was, who Wren was, and throw in a slew of confusion about it all, put an end to that bit of fun. It might have been flirting on his or my part, but I had actually never had to think about that sort of thing, so I didn’t know. I liked it when he picked on me, and Wren responded with grins and smirks as if he liked me picking on him. Jesus, maybe we had been flirting.

Or maybe I was in dire need of replacing someone on my mind.

After that, I kept myself strictly to myself. Wren was a nice guy; he didn’t deserve my baggage, certainly couldn’t handle my truth. Who would? Even though I couldn’t quite explain the relationship I had with Franklin, I knew enough that it wasn’t normal. Not only was I thirteen when we met, fourteen the first time we had sex, but he was married to my mother. None of that was normal.

I didn’t remember much about being an innocent kid. My memories blurred, and time altered them further. Franklin was there when no one else had been. Genuine care and concern shone in his eyes when I had never noticed that from anyone else.

The first time his hugs turned into something more, it had been awkward, but I had wanted to please him so much. I wanted to make sure he didn’t leave me because of my inexperience. He had even soothed my fears without me having to say them out loud.

You want to please me, don’t you, Tate?

Don’t worry. I’ll teach you everything.

I’ve given you so much. You want to show me how much you love me in return, right?

And I did. I really did love him, I thought.

Dad stopped at a gas station, and I jerked myself out of those old memories. We filled our arms with junk candy, drinks, and beer, which Dad made us promise we would lie to Winnie about. Then it was off to the lake and this whole fishing nonsense.

Hickory Bend might not have been a destination place, but the other side of the nearby lake, Hickory Cove, definitely was. According to Dad, with Wren chiming in here and there, a million years ago, one side of the huge-ass lake was owned by one rich family. They kept it unincorporated and natural, with only a few docks and places to access the water.

The other side went all out with development. A man-made beach was erected along with a marina and lots of neighborhoods. The two sides made me think of a redneck version of Lake Tahoe without the resorts. Now, that unincorporated side was where we lived, and that family had moved on. But Southerners loved tradition about as much as football, so they kept it small-town and lost out on all that revenue.

The sun was bright, but the day wasn’t as hot on the water. Dad rented what I would call a tiny boat, and we shoved off and got underway. As the pier shrank in the distance and the wide-open expanse of the lake dominated my vision, I realized I had a slight water phobia.

I had been on a boat before, but it had been parked at the dock and at night when I couldn’t see the water—and it wasn’t moving at all. Besides all that, the boat had been the size of a mansion, and we were only there for a dinner party.

Wren looked at me funny when I clutched my life jacket. He and Dad had shucked theirs shortly after we left the dock. I could swim; at least, I knew how to tread water. My old private school had a swim team, but I had never tried out for it. I had also never felt this restlessness around the big pool.

Lake water was dark and smelled exactly as I had feared it would. We were to be the fishermen, the masters over our prey. All I could think of was a whale-seized guppy that had lain dormant at the bottom of this seemingly endless lake, waking up today of all days and finding my bait the most intriguing. He would yank me out of the boat and under the murky water in one second, never to be seen again.

“Dude.” Wren slapped my shoulder. “You cool?”

I had a second to play it off or show my fear. “Uh, n-no,” I gave in and admitted.

Wren couldn’t hear me over the noise of the boat, so he leaned in. The smell of his shampoo as his hair brushed my nose helped for a second. Then the boat did one of those jolting things as if there were speed bumps in the lake, and I grabbed his leg.

“I don’t think I like the water,” I rushed out.

He sat back, obviously noting the shake in my voice. “You wanna leave? We don’t have to do this. I can tell Sam to turn around.”

Dad was at the back of the boat, controlling our trek and scanning out in front and to the sides. A little smile lit his face with the sun. I didn’t want to ruin the day.

“No. I want to stay. Um, just don’t leave me.”

Wren huffed with a lopsided grin that distracted my fears a little. “Where would I go? It’s a boat and not even a big one.”

He bumped my shoulder with his, and I managed to crack a smile.

Thankfully, soon after, Dad steered us closer to the tree-lined edge. My fear lessened when it seemed possible to swim to shore and not deep enough to house a megalodon. Dad dropped anchor right at the mouth of a knife-sharp inlet. He and Wren moved about the boat like they were born on the water while I clutched the metal bench seat built into the hull. These things were designed not to tip over, right?

Wren baited my hook, and then he and Dad tried to teach me how to cast the line. I wasn’t a very good student. With the concern I might hit one of them with the pointy end, they took turns doing it for me each time.

Conversation was kept to a minimum because scaring fish was an actual thing. Dad wouldn’t crack open a beer until after twelve. Some misguided sense of propriety bullshit. Who the fuck really cared if you drank in the morning? They never heard of a mimosa or a bloody Mary down here? Irish coffee? Hair of the dog? That one even sounded Southern. It wasn’t as if he were an alcoholic. But right at noon, he popped a tab.

Wren grabbed one too, keeping a steady eye on Dad as he slowly lifted the can and settled back on his seat. His grin was all kinds of charming when he successfully opened it without being chastised and told to put it back. I kept my laughter on the inside. Wren was fishing and drinking a beer. It was a new side of him I liked. All manly and redneck, and surprisingly doing it for me. Not that he needed any help directing my imagination to lanes it shouldn’t be in.

I didn’t grab a beer, but I pulled out my smokes. Dad cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. I wondered what he would say. Seriously, it wasn’t any more legal for me than Wren drinking a beer right now. And I was way closer to nineteen than Wren was to twenty-one.

“I dunno what your momma let you do up there, but I’d appreciate it if you kept your smoking outside,” he said. A muscle ticked in his jaw. He wanted to say more, I just knew it, but what could he say without being a hypocrite?

“I will. I mean, I do. I only smoke outside. Can’t even smoke in Wren’s trash can, err, truck.”

“Hey,” Wren hissed and shoved my shoulder.

Our vices weren’t spoken of after that. We snacked on tuna sandwiches Winnie had packed for us—which seemed so disrespectful—and then I caught a catfish. Dad and Wren laughed since we were bass fishing. This wasn’t actually a win, apparently. Well, whatever, my part here was done.

“That thing is, like, contest winning! Come on, nooo.”

Ploop .

They ever so casually threw my prize back into the lake. The catfish disappeared back into the murky depths as if my feat of hickhood had never happened.

“Now how will I fit in with the rednecks?” I pouted and refused to fish anymore.

Dad laughed. “It was hardly impressive, Tate. You’ll have to figure out another way.”

By the time they were ready to head in, the eau de lake water clung to my clothes and skin. Dad caught two bass; Wren caught one. The three fish lay lifeless in a cooler as we sped back to the docks.

Back on dry land, my fear of the water seemed irrational. “Guess I didn’t pass the bro test, huh?” I asked Wren while Dad finished talking to the boat rental guy.

Wren and I leaned against the side of Dad’s truck, a little closer than two guys should stand, maybe. He seemed taller in this moment. Or maybe I was still getting all his protective vibes from my fear of lake water confession.

“It wasn’t a test, bro ,” he answered with his eyes fixed on mine and a deep undercurrent in his tone.

I blinked and backed up. Shit. That hit places that didn’t need touching.

Wren smirked and puffed his chest as if he read my pulling back exactly for what it was: the first time he had successfully gotten under my skin.

The silence that followed hung long enough we both knew this wasn’t an easygoing moment between two stepbrothers. He cocked his head ever so slightly as if to say what you got? It was my time to smirk and hope like hell Wren watched my ass as I walked away. That was … That was good in the good ways and bad in the bad ways. Yeah, Wren was hot as fuck, and yeah, I really wanted to get my hands on him and his on me, but holy mother of bad ideas right there.

My uncertainty and insecurities kept me next to Dad, safe, until it was time to go.

Though they claimed we were going to eat the fish they caught, Dad stopped and picked up to-go burgers on the way home. Wren got out to help Dad, and I stayed in the truck, citing my unseemly attire as reason to keep distance between Wren and me.

So I was all alone when my phone chimed with an incoming message. Only Dad had the number. I pulled it from my pocket, thinking they needed my input on the order, and nearly dropped the thing as if it bit me.

Unknown number: I know where you are, little darling.