My Jaded Love, Forbidden Love

Chapter 2

Mikayla POV

“Welcome home, Care Bear.”

I looked up at my childhood house; a swarm of butterflies danced in my stomach, each flutter intensifying as memories clashed with the present. The white wood that covered the house looked crisp and clean; three wooden steps led up to a large porch, which had an old wooden bench, two rocking chairs, and a small coffee table sitting just below the large window of the dining room. A large, beautiful rose bush ran along the length of the white wooden railing that enclosed the porch; the smell of the roses filled the air, taking me back to my childhood. The house had been in the family for generations; my dad inherited it when his mom passed. I was only a year old when we moved in; to me, this house was home. A cobblestone path split in two; one path led from the front door to the sidewalk, and the other led to the driveway, which is where I was standing. My eyes went up toward the porch roof and my bedroom window, which overlooked it, and tears prickled my eyes as I remembered all the nights I would climb down to go and meet Steven, my high school boyfriend, and one of the worst mistakes of my life. Mine and Steven's past was one I wished to forget, but Max made sure I would have to relive it all again, that awful night I wished I could forget, but it was burnt into my memories. The night Steven beat Marshall, a sweet and kind boy, to death and made me believe it was all my fault. When Max was torturing Cait, he somehow found out about Steven and Marshall and used it to blackmail me and Cait, and now I find myself wrapped up in another murder trial; only this time my statement is the key to finally getting justice for Marshall, and because of everything I know and my willingness to help send Steven to prison, I got immunity for not coming forward when it happened all those years ago. Fùck, this was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have come back home; all those emotions I had locked up came flooding back to me, all those nights I rocked myself to sleep because I was afraid Steven would sneak into the house at night and kill me and my family, so I didn’t talk, jabbed at my heart, making my stomach roll with nausea. I could feel my body becoming heavier, but my dad wrapped his arms around me. He smelled of oil and sawdust, a comforting smell I often thought of when I was home alone with my dark thoughts. He cocoons me in his warmth and love, fighting away all my fears.

“Are you ok, sweetheart?” He asked.

“I am now,” I answered.

“Kay, it’s so good to see you. You look good.” Tripp’s voice bellowed as he stood in the doorway, filling the space between the frame. Tripp was exactly as I remembered him; he was tall and broad and looked just like Dad when he was younger, only he didn’t share his red hair like I did; instead, Tripp had inherited our mother's dark hair, but we both shared our father's green eyes. He seemed to have a bounce in his step and a glow on his skin, giving him such a youthful look; his smile was bright and seemed genuine. He made me feel welcomed and wanted.

“Hey, Tripp. I heard about Michelle. I’m sorry.”

He wrapped his arms around me, transporting me back to my teenage years. This was the Tripp I remembered and loved; this was my big brother, not the dìck he had been the last 6 years while he was married to Michelle.

“Don’t be. She was toxic; she made me push you all away, and I’m making up for that.” He replied.

His mouth was downturned, and I could see the pain in his eyes; I felt a jab of pain in my heart for my brother. He was right. Michelle was a toxic bítch, and I am glad he had finally come to his senses and left her. Tripp changed the moment he met her; he became distant and cruel, nothing like the big brother who would beat up the neighborhood boys for calling me names or following me on my first-ever date to make sure there was no funny business.

“I’m taking you both out for dinner.” He declared, grabbing my suitcase out of my hand and carrying it into the house. Tripp’s biceps seemed to bulge out of the sleeve of his T-shirt. Growing up, all the girls loved Tripp. I suppose he was good-looking; Michelle ruined his good nature, though, but seeing Tripp now, I could see his old self shining brightly back at me, and that made me truly happy; maybe I finally had my big brother back.

My dad wrapped his arm around my shoulder and led me inside.

“It’s good to have you home, Care Bear.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Inside was exactly as I remembered it; the hardwood floor shone like it had just been polished, I could still smell the woodsy scent as I entered, my footsteps echoed off the wood, and you could hear them throughout the house; hence why I had to sneak out of my bedroom window when I was younger. The stairs were directly in front of the door; the wooden steps were the same color as the hallway floor and just as sparkling, and the handrail was a bright white. Running up the wall along the stairs were pictures from our childhood, each one in a square white frame. To my right was the dining room, which led round to the kitchen, where the smell of coffee drifted from, filling the downstairs with the familiar smell, and to my left was the living room, which had a large window seat that I enjoyed lounging on whilst reading my magazines as a teenager, daydreaming about my future—how naive I was back then.

Tripp bounced down the stairs, his smile beaming, making my own lips curl up.

“I put your suitcase in your room. Do you want to change first?”

I nodded my head. I felt like I had a layer of dirt covering my skin from driving for most of the day; a quick shower and a change of clothes were exactly what I needed right now.

“Do you mind if I clean up? I won’t be long.”

Tripp’s brow furrowed, but his lips had a crooked smile playing across them.

“I hope that your sense of time has improved since we were kids.” He mocked, making me smile once again.

“I can assure you I don’t take two hours to get ready any more, Tripp. Just give me 30 minutes.”

“I will time you.” He shouted as I ran up the stairs to my old bedroom.

Dad had kept everything the same as I had left it. I could still smell the lemon wood polish that he had used to clean the furniture along with the fresh cotton scent from the pile of towels at the end of my old bed. It felt like I had stepped back in time as I stepped inside, absorbing everything around me. The walls were a sickly pink color that made me feel green around the gills seeing it again; I had a large bookcase filled with trinkets I had collected over the years, many of which I had long forgotten. As I slowly walked past it, I glanced at the tiny memories on the shelves. A smile spread across my lips as my eyes landed on a small stuffed ladybug that Tripp had given me for my 14th birthday. The color had faded, and the fur felt stiff, but when I picked it up, it still felt soft. I didn’t realize it then, but Tripp was a great brother, and I truly hope that the old Tripp is back and not the twisted version of him that Michelle had created.

I froze for a moment when I spotted a picture of me and Steven next to the ladybug. I put the ladybug down and picked up the red and pink glittery heart frame instead. I looked so happy in that photo, but looking at it now I noticed the possessive glint in Steven’s eye. The way he held me felt like he was claiming me as his own. My hip began to burn where the jagged scar he had given me was. I slammed the picture back onto the shelf, pushing it to the back so I didn’t have to look at it again.

The beautiful dressing table looked empty now compared to how it used to look when I was younger; it would be full of body sprays, nail varnish, and the latest makeup, but now all it held was my old mirror and my memories. The bed was only a single, and if I remember rightly, it squeaked every time I turned over. The frame was made from metal with a headboard that looked like it had come from the Victorian period; the sheets that looked pristine matched the color of the walls, only to add to my mortification at how bad my taste was as a girl—they were adjoined with frills that ran around the sheet. And to add insult to injury, hanging directly over my bed was a large Harry Styles poster that I would kiss goodnight every night; I was so sure I was going to marry him when I grew up. I could hear the leaves rustling on the tree outside my window. I walked across and looked out, picturing all the times I had sneaked out of it. The porch roof looked sloped. How I never killed myself amazed me. I could barely walk straight, yet I managed to shimmy down the porch most nights. A shudder ran down my spine. I didn’t want to think about my past anymore; it was time to start looking forward. I spun around and leaned against the windowsill; the glass felt cold against my back. Tripp had left my suitcase by my closet, so I quickly rifled through it, grabbing a pair of jeans and a simple red camisole. I laid them down on my old bed and then quickly showered. As much as I wanted to wash my hair to refresh myself after a long day in a stuffy car, I decided not to; I would wash it tomorrow. I wanted to show Tripp I was different, and if I washed my hair now, it would take me two hours to get ready, and I was on a 30-minute time limit. I wanted to start things off right on my reset. Tripp was putting in the effort; I was going to do the same. I was going to forget all those bad feelings between us and start with a clean slate.

“I’m ready. Where are we going?”