by Coralee June
“Yes, Mr. Harris,” I replied as the class filtered out. Maximillian waited by the door and gave me a nod of solidarity before disappearing into the hall.
Decker and I sat in silence for far too long. His lack of words spoke a clear message right through my heart and echoed everything we’d been building up to. Nothing. Say nothing. Do nothing. Keep this a secret.
He wanted me to be empty of my honesty and full of him.
“Surprised you wanted to talk,” I finally spat out. I couldn’t handle squirming under his pain-filled stare any longer.
“What? Because I didn’t text or call after your little outburst last night? Unlike you, I don’t prefer to break people’s hearts over the phone.”
Ouch. Last night, I felt confident in my impulsive decision. Now, I wasn’t so sure.
“When would you have suggested we have this conversation, Decker? After class? Over dinner with my brother? Hell, we could just call an assembly of all the people we’re lying to and announce it to the fucking world.”
He slammed a fist on his desk and stalked over to me. I stood up and backed away, not trusting myself to be close to him. Decker was relentless, determined to close the physical and emotional distance between us with every step. My back hit a lab table, and I looked around for an escape but couldn’t find one. Within seconds, Decker was cupping my neck. “You broke me,” he choked out while squeezing lightly.
“You broke me first,” I rasped.
His lips clashed with mine. We fought with our teeth, our hands, and our souls. I pushed at his chest, but he didn’t move. He never moved. That man was rigid in every sense of the word. He took what he wanted without care for the ramifications, and I let him.
I was almost worried about where we were. I almost cared that he was devouring me in his classroom and that at any moment, someone could walk through that door and destroy the secret we’d been harboring. But that was what I wanted, right?
So even though it hurt—even though it killed me to taste the mint on his breath and the hurt on his tongue—I caved into my body’s demands and kissed him back. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered between kisses, so low I almost missed it.
“Is that why you let me go? Is that why you gave up on me?” I asked while unfastening the buttons on his pants. I hoped his groans filled the hallways of this damn school.
“You didn’t even give me a chance,” he growled before picking me up and placing me on the lab table. My legs parted, and he stepped closer to me. “We agreed to try.”
I yanked on his hair before lavishing his neck with more kisses, scraping my teeth along his sensitive skin before sucking on his pulse. I moved with the hopes of marking his mind, body, and soul. I wanted the evidence of my love for him branded on his rough skin. “I’m done trying. I’m done hiding.”
“What about my job?” Decker asked as I pulled his hard cock out of his pants. It was huge in my palm, throbbing at my touch.
“If you cared about your job, you wouldn’t be about to fuck me on this table, Decker.”
“Punk,” he groaned before thrusting his hand between my thighs. His fingers found my heat, and I threw my head back as he stroked my electric need.
“Admit it,” I demanded while aligning him with my center. He continued to tease my clit, and it was cruel how amazing he felt. “Admit it, Decker,” I said again when he wordlessly pushed my panties to the side.
“No,” he replied before sliding in me. I could have torn a hole through my lip with how hard I was biting it. My fingers clawed at his back. His hands dug into my hips. My heart was on fire with hate and energy and pain.
He thrust again and again, slamming the table against the classroom walls. Certainly, someone would hear. Was this his way of giving in? Of telling the world about us? I said his name, my voice growing louder with each syllable.
“Be quiet, Blakely,” he ordered before slamming his palm over my mouth. I whimpered at his silencing of me. I knew it was rational. I knew I shouldn’t want to be caught. But it was too symbolic of our relationship for it to not hurt.
Tears streamed down my cheeks and I didn’t let another sound escape my throat. If he wanted to say goodbye like this, I’d let him. I’d leave him in a way that honored our relationship: without a word.
A million lifetimes passed between each thrust. A million heartbreaks. I made peace with my broken heart in the silence of our fuck. I accepted his decision when we both came on the desk. We were nothing but writhing bodies. Only harsh gasps escaped our parted lips.
When he pulled out, it felt like he took my soul with him. He rested his forehead against mine as he calmed his breathing, his dark eyes never once leaving mine. “You’re mine, Blakely,” he promised, and it was the first lie I think he’d ever told me.
“Not anymore,” I promised before getting off the table and straightening my clothes.
Mama used to say that you could tell a lot about a man by the way they left you. She had enough practice being left to know what she was talking about. So I walked out of Decker’s classroom with my head held high, my fists clenched, and my soul on my sleeve. The day Mama died, I vowed to never be like her, and today I was the one that did the leaving.
30
Blakely
As I walked down the hallway and toward the lunchroom, Max called after me. I kept my feet moving, wishing this day would be over. “Hey,” he called out. “Are you okay?”
I briefly nodded and continued to walk, but he tugged at my shoulder and pulled me against the lockers. “I’m fine,” I choked out. The hall was mostly empty, as the bell had just rung, but I still felt crowded. The world felt too small.
Max looked left and right before speaking to me in a low voice so as not to be overheard. “You and Mr. Harris look like shit, babe. Did something happen?” he asked. “You can tell me. We’re friends, remember?”
I swallowed back emotions while trying not to give him a reaction. Everywhere ached. My heart, my sex, and my soul were battered by Decker’s touch. Sex with him in his classroom should have been hot and memorable, but it felt wrong. It wasn’t us; it was two fighting bodies trying to convince themselves that they belonged together.
Even though Decker and I were over, I wasn’t willing to out our relationship entirely to Maximillian. “I broke up with my boyfriend from Texas,” I finally admitted. It felt good to tell someone, even though it was veiled with a lie.
Max rolled his eyes. “We’re still saying it’s a boyfriend from Texas? All right, I’ll play.”
Against my better judgment, I smiled at his willingness to not ultimately call me out on my bullshit. “It just got too hard,” I admitted. “It was too much work. Too much risk. Too many secrets and hopes with no place to go.” Max took another step closer before bracing his hands against the lockers by my head. I felt caged in but comforted. “He didn’t even fight it,” I said with a choked sob. “I deserved a better goodbye, and I can’t even blame him. It happened over the phone. And then just now…” My voice trailed off. I couldn’t talk about what just transpired. “I’m the one that ended things, so why does it hurt so bad?”
“It hurts because he’s a dumb ass,” Maximillian replied simplistically. “Look, I’ve embraced the friend zone. Hell, I’ve built up camp here. But if I had a girl like you? There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you. I’d stalk you down, drive all the way from Texas, and demand that you stay with me. You need a man that shows up, and if he’s not willing to do that for you, then I’m happy to show you what it feels like to be properly chased.” His smile was warm, but I pressed at his chest with a pain-filled giggle. He remained firm and leaned close enough to rest his forehead against mine. It felt wrong to stand so close to him after everything that had happened, but I reveled in the comfort he offered.
The thing was, I’d never want Maximillian the same way I wanted Decker. Decker taught me how to breathe again. He helped me sail across an ocean of pain and loneliness. He carried me to a place of self-care and
acceptance. Decker Harris bled truths from me like a cherished offering. Nothing would ever be the same. But I couldn’t love a secret, not when our relationship was built on raw honesty. I couldn’t love a lie.
“Shouldn’t the two of you be at lunch?” a low voice growled. It was a voice that haunted me. Decker.
Maximillian snapped his attention toward Decker, but I kept my gaze firmly on the ground as shame filled my cheeks. I knew what this looked like and didn’t want to see the pain I just knew was on Decker’s face.
“Sorry, Mr. H. My girl here has a broken heart, and I was just trying to help her out.” His tone was dripping with insinuations and insults, and Maximillian was glowering in Decker’s direction.
Decker took a step closer to us, his fists were clenched like he was trying to grit back the words begging to spew from his lips. “I bet you were just waiting to step in and help out,” Decker replied. He stood directly in front of Maximillian, and I shoved my way between them. This was getting ridiculous. My hand touched Decker’s chest, and I felt him shudder at the touch and let out a hiss.
“Someone has to help her,” Maximillian growled.
Decker took another step forward and raised his fist, stopping once he realized we were in an open hallway. “Careful, Max.”
“You be careful, Mr. Harris,” Max retorted.
Decker rolled his neck and straightened his tie. We both looked utterly wrecked. There was a bruise forming on his neck and a lipstick stain on his collar. “You better go to lunch, Mr. Hemsworth. I’m not going to ask twice.”
“I can’t do this,” I whispered to myself, but Maximillian heard. I wanted to punish my heart for fleeing from what was giving it a pulse.
“Fine. Have a nice day, Mr. H,” Maximillian replied darkly. Grabbing my wrist, he pulled me away from the source of my broken heart and toward the lunchroom. Every step away from Decker felt painful. It was like I was walking through thick mud. I didn’t want to be away from him, but I knew I couldn’t stay. I was trying to walk away and hold on at the same time. There was a war brewing between my soul and my head. I wasn’t sure which would win. He was chaos to my heart, and I was poison to his realities.
I took one last glance at Decker from over my shoulder and nearly ran to him at the sight of his stormy expression. There was lightning in his eyes. Maximillian kept pulling me away.
Once Decker was out of sight and we were near the lunchroom, my phone started ringing in my pocket. I pulled it out to check who was calling me during the day. The only people I ever spoke to were Lance, Decker, and Maximillian. It was a number I didn’t recognize, but I picked it up and answered anyway. “Hello?”
“Blakely! Do not listen to them—”
My stomach sank when I realized it was my father on the other line. His voice was scratchy and worn as if he’d been screaming. “Dad? Dad!” I was screaming into the phone. The answering silence was too loud, and my mind was morbidly interpreting each second that passed where he didn’t speak.
“I think that’s enough,” a dark voice answered that didn’t belong to my father. You could almost hear the evil in his tone, it was burdened with bad intentions. My stomach sank, and I nearly fell to my knees in the middle of the hallway. Maximillian was watching me in shock with his mouth hanging open. “I’m assuming this is Blakely, correct?” they asked.
“Yes, this is her,” I stuttered. “What have you done with my dad?” I bit the inside of my cheek to calm my nerves, knowing that I needed a level head to navigate this unexpected call. Blood pooled in my mouth, but I didn’t care.
“We have your father. He has a debt to pay, and it looks like you have the means to pay for it.” A debt? What did that even mean? Was he talking about money or something...else?
I felt hands on my shoulders as Maximillian forced me to look him in the eye. My wide eyes stared at him as I spoke on the phone. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, I have no money. I’m a fucking waitress! Where is he?” Although I’d been able to save up some cash, it wasn’t nearly enough. If they wanted money, I sure as hell didn’t have any to spare.
“Don’t play stupid with me, Blakely Stewart,” the dark voice answered. Maximillian reached for my phone, but I shoved him away. I needed to hear everything, so I could make sense of it all. “We’ve been watching you. I know that brother of yours has a fat wallet,” he added. “All you have to do is bring me fifty grand, and the debt will be paid. If you don’t, your father will pay in blood.”
“I-I need proof of life. And where will I bring it? How will I even—”
“I’ll send you a photo of your father, and you’ll figure it out. You attend that fancy school, don’t you? I’m sure you can use that pretty head of yours to find a solution that doesn’t end in your daddy’s death. Hurry.”
The line went dead before I could rush out my confusion and excuses. There was no way I could come up with fifty thousand dollars at the drop of a hat. “Blakely? What’s going on?” Max asked while shaking me once more. My phone pinged, and a photo of my father came through with an address and a time. Dad had two black eyes, a busted lip, and a gash along his forehead. He was hunched over as if he couldn’t hold himself up. A choked sob escaped my chest the moment I saw it. The address was for a place in Memphis, and the time said five p.m. tonight.
A million thoughts raced through my mind as I tried to make sense of everything. Maximillian’s voice was muffled compared to the roaring in my brain. I couldn’t go to the police. The men keeping him captive would undoubtedly kill him. Not to mention, cops didn’t particularly care about convicted felons on parole. I wanted to run to Decker, explain to him what was happening, and beg for his help. But I didn’t feel like we were okay enough for me to ask him.
Lance. I had to go to Lance.
Shit, I couldn’t go to Lance. He was in Louisiana. Fucking Louisiana. He’d texted me this morning that he had to meet with his client there. My brain was working through solutions like this was a final exam.
“Fuck, Blakely. Tell me what’s going on. You looked terrified!” Maximillian said louder.
“I have to go,” I answered.
“Like hell you do! I heard what was going on. What’s wrong with your dad?”
I glanced down at my phone once more and stared at the broken, battered photo of my father. “It’s safer if you don’t know,” I finally answered before shrugging out of his grip. I started jogging down the hallway as Maximillian called after me. I needed to get to my dad. I couldn’t afford to lose the one parent I had left.
31
Decker
Everything hurt.
My head.
My heart.
My fucking chest.
If this was what love felt like, then count me out. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I wasn’t supposed to fall for a girl that was too young, too off-limits. I risked my job and my best friend for what, pain?
Everyfuckingthing hurt. But I knew that I’d do it again in a heartbeat. The worst part about it all was the consolation prize of knowing that she was right. I had to sit here and witness her mutual pain, and the look on her blotchy, tear-stained face wrecked me. The only reason I didn’t drive to Rose’s house last night and demand she stay with me was the fact that she was doing the right thing. I wasn’t courageous enough, strong enough, or good enough for Blakely Stewart. She gave me an ultimatum, and once again, I was too cowardly to bite the bullet and take away her pain.
And I knew I hurt her. No one wanted to feel like a secret. She repelled the idea of being anything like her mother, and our relationship was selfish. I understood why she did what she did and how she did it, but it didn’t make the pain go away.
After guzzling whiskey like it was water last night, I convinced myself that I was right for not wanting to be honest about our relationship. I told myself that risking my job wasn’t worth it, even though I knew damn well I’d quit in a heartbeat for her. I was an educated man. I could survive this. She was worth surviving this for.
My job should’ve been my fear, but it wasn’t. And when sobriety kicked my ass this morning, my real fears came colliding like a tidal wave in my chest. I feared losing the only friend I’d ever had. Would he really be mad? Would he really hate me?
Lance loved hard. He was the most unselfish person I knew. He was selfless and compassionate. He was a prominent supporter of love; it was evident in the way he approached life. His affections and devotion to people came without resentment or stipulations. But this would destroy him.
When shit hit the fan, I knew I wouldn’t be enough, I wasn’t good enough for her. I’d told her that I wanted expectations and labels, but truthfully the idea of commitment terrified me. I had my parents’ blood flowing through my veins, and that had to count for something, right? The only thing I was good at was being Lance’s best friend.
“Mr. H?” a breathless voice called from the doorway, and I snapped the number two pencil in my hand at the sound. I wasn’t in the mood to see Maximillian Fucking Hemsworth. Seeing him in the hall with Blakely felt like walking on hot coals. I had to put on a brave face, but it burned me up. Turning in my seat to look at the asshole, I had to hold back a sneer. Maximillian was smart. Available. Determined. Courageous. He wasn’t afraid to make his intentions known. He wasn’t scared to look like an asshole and ask her out.
He was probably here to gloat. I could tell in the way he pulled her away and walked her to lunch that the fucker had plans to show Blakely what devotion and dedication actually looked like.
“Go away, Max. My office is closed,” I growled. This piece of shit was really trying my patience. If I didn’t lose my job for falling in love with a student, then I’d definitely lose it for kicking his ass. It would be worth it.
“It’s Blakely,” he began, but I cut him off. There was no way in hell I’d talk about her with him. I couldn’t do it.
“I don’t want to talk about—”
