by Ava Harrison
To stop feeling.
That’s what Pierce does. He hides behind his looks, behind his name, behind a false ego. In truth, he’s broken and it’s in every piece of him.
“Now you see. Now you see all of me. Can’t you show me all of you?”
His question takes me off guard. I can’t. I shake my head back and forth.
“What are you hiding from? What aren’t you showing me?”
“I can’t.”
“Trust me.”
I’m not sure I can. “It’s not you, it’s me.” It’s a lame copout, but it’s the best I have right now.
“What does that even mean?”
“I hate to look at it. The scars . . .” I trail off.
“You shouldn’t hate any part of yourself, Lindsey. Because it’s part of you, and you are beautiful.”
“Like your broken paintings,” I say.
“Like my broken paintings.”
“Why do you think you draw them?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’m a little broken and I want . . .” he trails off and looks at the floor.
“And you want to find the beauty in them. Do you want to find the beauty in me?”
“There’s no need. It’s right there for the world to see, and I’m not talking about your face. Anybody who knows you, anybody who tries to know you, will see how beautiful you are.”
I search his eyes for insincerity, but I’m met with none. So, right there in the middle of his art studio, amongst fresh paint and fractured images, I remove my pants and show him my imperfections.
“You’re exquisite.”
“Hardly.”
He drops to his knees in front of me. He places my leg—the one that screams in pain when I walk, when I sit, when I live—in front of him. He trails his fingers down my thigh to my calf and I place my hand on his scalp for balance. Not physical balance, but emotional.
He touches me. Each jagged edge. He drops his mouth to my flesh and I quiver against the sensation. This isn’t sexual. It’s love. He might not see it, but as he kisses each scar, each gnarl of raised, puckered flesh, each mark that tells of a story before, of a life before, he tells me with no spoken words that he loves me.
As I let him make something beautiful of all the pieces—all of my beautiful broken pieces.
I heal.
Today is one of the best days of my life.
Sitting across from Lindsey for breakfast is officially how I want to start my mornings from now on. There’s just something about waking up to her face, seeing Lindsey smile. As cheesy as it sounds, it makes me happy. Having her beside me makes the shit with my family not so bad. Having her see me, the real me, makes everything okay. I honestly never thought I’d feel this way, but yesterday was a game changer. I was pissed. But later, in my studio, when I bared my soul to her and she bore hers to me, things changed. Everything changed.
The idea of another girl repulses me. Even before last night I felt this way, but if there was any hint of doubt, last night solidified it. I want Lindsey, and not just for now. I want a future.
“What are you thinking about over there?” she asks as she lifts the mug to her mouth and takes a sip of her coffee.
“Just how much I like having you here.”
“You getting sappy on me, Lancaster?”
I stand and make my way to where she’s sitting. Looking down at her, I grin. “I’ll show you sappy,” I tease as I lean down and take her lips. She tastes like the cappuccino she made this morning. Like sugar and cinnamon. I lick the seam of her lips.
“Cut it out.” She laughs, and I reluctantly pull away, but not before sucking her bottom lip into mine, making her moan. As I step back to my chair and sit, I smile.
“No really, though, I’ve been thinking . . .”
She cocks her head and waits. I don’t know what I’ve been thinking. I don’t want to be away from her, but it’s way too soon to say that. We might have known each other for years, but we’ve only been exclusive for a little over a month. Is that enough time to know?
Yes.
I don’t say any of that, though. The thought of this all falling apart, of Lindsey eventually tiring of me or realizing I’m not worth the hassle, still presses on me. So instead I give her a grin, one that makes her roll her eyes. “I think we should go back to Antibes,” I blurt out.
Her eyes widen and her mouth opens, but no words come out.
“The first time we were there, I—well, let’s just say I want to take you back. I want to go where it all started and give us new memories. Ones we can always cherish.”
“Wow, I don’t know what to say.”
“Say yes. Say the word and I’ll book us on the next flight I can get, bearing that Carson says we can both take off.”
“Yes.”
“Done. And this time, Lindsey . . . This time I’m going to make it up to you.”
“Nothing to make up for. Just having you is enough for me.”
“Me too. But still, I want to.”
And I do. I have a lot to make up for and a lot to be grateful for. This trip will be a new beginning.
After she has her coffee, we decide to head out to a diner for breakfast before heading into Polaris. When we get there, I go to the computer room to see about finding a travel agent. I’ve never flown commercial, so this should be interesting, but hey, with Lindsey, I don’t give a shit how we fly as long as she’s with me.
I’m knee deep in search engines when I hear voices outside the door.
“How much does he want now?”
I can’t hear the response, but I hear the first voice say, “No way can you come up with that. Are you going to ask her?”
“No.”
“You have to.”
“I said no,” one of the speakers says forcefully. “I just don’t know what to do. It’s bad, man. That shit is cut with God knows what so he can sell more of it. But I heard it’s got that stuff that they are calling the lethal injection.”
My jaw clenches at what he just said, Lethal injection is the street name for cocaine being cut with fentanyl.
That’s what killed Linc.
I stand and head straight for the door. Pulling it open, I find Christopher and Xavier in the hall. “What’s going on?” I glare at them needing to know why they are talking about this.
I need to breathe and relax or these boys will be scared and won’t talk to me.
Inhale. Exhale.
“Nothing,” Christopher mutters as he picks at his nail. He’s lying.
I lift an eyebrow. “Didn’t sound like nothing.”
“Well, it is,” Xavier says and gives Christopher a pointed look.
I don’t believe them, but I’m not going to get them to talk to me. They know something. I make a mental note to ask Lindsey later today.
When later comes, I’m sitting with Lindsey sharing a turkey sandwich she bought from the corner deli. We’re like an old married couple, and strangely enough, the idea makes me smile.
“I spoke to Carson about us going away to Antibes,” she says.
“Great, because I spent my day looking up flights and hotels.”
“He said we can take off not this weekend but the next. He’s got enough staff to cover for us.”
“Sounds perfect. I found a great hotel . . . what was it called again?” I try to remember the name, but it’s not coming to me. When the site was up on the computer was also when the boys were outside talking. “Oh, that reminds me, something is up with Christopher and Xavier.”
She places her lunch down and looks up at me, her eyes wide. “What do you mean?”
“They were arguing about money.”
Lindsey’s face pales, and I’m instantly on edge.
“Do you know something?”
She swallows and shakes her head, but the movement is rigid and it makes my stomach clench. She’s hiding something. One thing I’ve learned from my past is how to tell when someone is withholding information. It’s written all ove
r her face.
I just wonder what it is.
And why she won’t tell me.
The week has passed, which means only one more week until our trip. It’s finally the weekend again. After an hour of cleaning up the Polaris Boys Club, I’m finally ready to join the boys in watching the weekly Friday night movie. As I’m about to step into the media room, two strong arms wrap around my waist and pull me back and into the storage closet directly next to the media room. The rhythmic beat of a heart vibrates against my spine.
“Where do you think you’re going?” The words are a whisper in my ear, the voice husky with need.
“To watch a movie—”
“I don’t think so,” he rasps, his soft lips pressing against the pulse in my neck and licking a trail down the exposed skin. The hands that are splayed against my waist travel up, lifting my shirt. The cold air bites at my skin, doing nothing to calm the erratic drum of my heart.
“This isn’t very professional of you, Pierce,” I tease, my words coming out playfully, but there is no hiding the desire laced beneath them. There is nothing I want more than Pierce Lancaster right now, and he knows it.
“You’ve been fucking me with those beautiful blue eyes all night. How can I possibly resist you?” His hand lowers my shirt and moves down to dip into the waistband of my leggings. “I need to be inside you. Right here. Right now. So you better be real quiet.”
The rough pads of his fingers caress me and I can’t help but tilt my hips back, pressing my rear against him. Through my leggings, there’s no mistaking how hard he is. Not even his jeans can conceal his desire for me. Pierce’s hand pulls away and the sound of a zipper lowering echoes in the space.
“Take your pants off.”
In the background, I can hear the boys laughing. The movie has started in the media room. Can they hear us? My body shivers at the thought, a soft squeak escaping my mouth.
“Shh. If you’re real quiet, they’ll never know, I promise. Not another sound, though.”
I bite my lower lip to stifle my moans. Pushing my body farther back and rotating my hips to rub myself against him, I will Pierce to put me out of my misery. Once I lower my pants to my ankles, his fingers tug my panties to the side. I hear the familiar ripping sound as my eyes close, as my heart thumps against my breastbone in anticipation. Time stands still, measured through the beat of my heart, and against the sound of laughter floating through the metal door, the only barrier to being caught.
“I need you,” I rasp, barely a whisper. I can feel his hard length pressing against my core, but he doesn’t move. The torture is delicious, heady, all-consuming. With every second I wait my breath comes out erratically. And then, when I think I can take no more, he finally pushes into me.
His mouth latches onto the back of my neck as he pulls out and thrusts back in. My back arches up to meet each of his strokes as he takes me from behind, my arms pressing against the door for leverage. The door rattles. He retracts himself from my body, making me quiver with his absence.
“Slow,” he breathes.
“Fast,” I plead, but he doesn’t heed my desperation. Instead, he draws it out, making each second seem like an eternity. Time stretches slowly, painfully, until he slams back in at a punishing clip. The door shakes.
“Someone will hear.”
It doesn’t stop him. Instead, he picks up his pace, fucking me brutally against the metal door.
This forbidden encounter, knowing that anyone can find us, that we might be caught, has me falling over the edge. I fall so fast, so hard, I fear I’ll never put myself back together. But as Pierce slows his strokes, bracing his arms tightly around my waist, he pulls us closer together until there’s no end and no beginning to where our bodies meet.
I feel him shudder inside me. I feel him get lost in the feeling alongside me. Our hearts beat in tandem until we regain our breaths. Pulling out, he turns me around and places a kiss on my lips. “Ready to watch that movie?” He laughs against my mouth.
I sigh in satisfaction. “I am now.”
Once we clean off, I sneak out the door and make my way in to join the kids. A few seconds pass before Pierce walks in—struts in, more like it—like he owns the place. My face is beet red. I look thoroughly fucked, and he’s cool and collected and looking hotter than shit.
It’s so unfair.
He winks at me and I shake my head and roll my eyes, eliciting a small laugh from him. I search the seats to find a place to sit when I notice a bunch of seats are empty. Where’s Xavier?
I leave the room and Pierce follows. When we step outside, he looks at me, puzzled. “Leaving so soon?” He smirks. “Want another round?”
“Xavier is not in the room. I want to see where he is.”
“Really? He was dying to watch the movie.”
“I know. That’s why I want to find him. He’ll be pissed if he misses the new Bond.”
“Maybe he’s shooting hoops.”
Together hand in hand we walk to the gymnasium where a group of boys are whispering in the corner. Never a good sign. Pierce looks at me and shakes his head. He’s thinking exactly what I’m thinking.
“Let’s see what that’s about.”
When we finally make it to the boys, I’m on edge. There’s definitely something wrong. After the other day and now this, I know it in the bottom of my heart that something’s not right.
“What’s going on over here, guys?” Lindsey asks.
“Nothing,” Matthew says, but he won’t meet her gaze. He looks down at the floor instead. His lack of eye contact has my back going ramrod straight.
“What aren’t you telling me?” She tries to keep her voice level, but I can hear her fear.
When he doesn’t answer, I turn to Rocky. “Come on, man. What’s going on?”
He opens his mouth, but then Matt gives him a pointed look that shuts him up. I’m about to demand answers when Lindsey beats me to the punch and steps forward.
“Tell me now,” she demands.
“It’s nothing, really.”
“Now.” Lindsey looks around again. “Where’s Xavier?”
At Xavier’s name, his lip twitches.
Shit.
“Come to think of it, where’s Christopher?”
Uncomfortable silence fills the air. Lindsey drops to her knees. She’s eye to eye with Matthew. There’s no way this isn’t hurting her. There’s no way this isn’t killing her leg. She does it anyway. Showing her strength. She reaches her hand out and takes his in hers.
“Please tell me,” she implores.
“Don’t be mad.”
My stomach drops.
“I won’t be mad. I promise,” she responds.
“He got a text.”
“What did the text say?”
“I don’t know,” he whispers, but even in the low tone, I can hear the fear in his voice.
“What aren’t you telling me?” Lindsey asks.
“It was from his brother.”
“Shit,” she murmurs under her breath and an oppressive feeling starts to descend down on me. It feels as if the air is thick with something, making it hard to breathe.
“Where?” I ask, stepping forward.
He shrugs.
“You need to tell me. One of you knows. You need to tell me,” she begs as all her prior composure evaporates into hysterics.
I step forward and put my hand on her shoulder to soothe her. She needs to calm down or she’ll scare the boys.
“Please, Matthew,” I say. “It’s important. Did he say anything? Anything at all that would make you know where they would go?”
“He mentioned going to the bodega on Ninetieth.”
I don’t know what that means, but Lindsey must know something because before I know it, she’s taking off across the hall. I dart after her, hands extended, stopping her mid-stride. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“To find him.” Her voice is strong and doesn’t waver. There’s no changing her mind, and
I know what I have to do.
“Let’s go.” My voice is strong too, but deep down I feel quite the opposite, but no matter what, I can’t show her. So I fight off the feeling of fear wreaking havoc inside me and let the adrenaline give me the strength to guide us out of the building and where we need to go.
“How many more blocks is it?” Pierce barks from behind me. He’s pissed. At the situation, at the boys, but mainly he’s mad at me.
Looking over my shoulder, I answer, “Two.” I wince. The pain in my leg is excruciating. I’m walking way too fast. My knee feels as if tiny slivers of glass are stripping away at the bone, but I don’t stop. I push forward, no matter the pain.
“Are you ever going to tell me what the fuck is going on?” he hisses at me. “For God’s sake, I thought we were partners. I thought we were in this together. I thought . . .”
The pain in his voice breaks me, and as much as I don’t want to admit the truth, I do.
“I lied to you.”
He stops in his tracks and looks back at me.
“When I told you I didn’t know what was wrong with Christopher and Xavier, I lied. A month ago I lent him fifty thousand dollars to give his brother.” Pierce’s eyes go wide and I can see a vein in his throat throb. Not being able to face his anger, I turn and start walking again.
“Jesus, Lindsey. Don’t you think you should have told someone?” he yells above the sound of our footsteps hitting the cement pavement beneath us.
“I know I should have, but I wasn’t thinking.”
“No, you weren’t.” Pierce’s anger is palpable even with the distance, and I can feel a thaw descend. “How could you not have told me? I thought we were a team. I thought . . .” When I don’t answer, he lets out a long, drawn-out sigh. “I guess I was wrong.”
I want to object. I want to tell him he’s wrong, that we are in this together, but I can’t. Not now. Not when I have to continue. I have no other choice. I need to get to them. I need to find them before he does. I don’t know what he wanted, but in this neighborhood, with these boys, it’s never good. When we turn the corner, all the air spills from my lungs in a muffled cry, followed by a sharp intake of breath. I stumble forward and Pierce catches my arm so I don’t fall.
