by Lindsey Iler
“Hey, Reed.” I meet her in the middle and allow her to wrap her arms around my waist. Hesitantly, I lean into her hug. “Why am I not surprised by your grand entrance? And don’t think for a second, you walking through that door is good enough for me. You have some explaining to do.”
“Always one for the theatrics.” She shrugs, a cunning smile to serve her message. “What, no kiss hello?”
“Not a chance in hell after the shit you pulled.” I walk by her, heading to find Palmer, knowing my reaction is not what Reed expected.
“A pure soul like Palmer’s isn’t meant for the darkness, Marek!” Reed yells. “Don’t think I don’t recognize the t-shirt she’s wearing. If my memory serves me correctly, I’ve worn the same one.”
“You’re right. She is pure.” Without hesitating, I take the stairs two at a time to the top landing. I pause to listen and feel.
She’s still here.
Delaney comes out of my bedroom, closing the door behind her. “Whatever you do to her, make sure you make her feel secure. She’s played second fiddle to that bitch her whole life.”
“I got her, Delaney.” I offer a flat smile, not sure if I know how to do what I’ve promised.
When I go in my room, I expect to find Palmer wrapped in my blanket, hidden from the world. What I find is emptiness. She’s not in the bathroom, either, so unless she’s in Breaker’s room, she has to be around here somewhere.
A soft whimper behind me has me yanking open the closet door. Palmer jumps from my intrusion. Tears stream down her pink cheeks, and the parts of me I’ve kept hidden away, crack right down the middle. The hem of my t-shirt is clutched in her hands and pressed to her face. Her head hangs low, and her eyes are shut. She inhales deeply. The scent must be mine. I’d prefer she live in just my shirt for the rest of time.
“She’s alive.” She nods her head as if she needs to say it out loud for it to be real. “Right there, in the kitchen, made up of flesh and bones and air in her lungs.”
“She’s alive, Palmer,” I repeat.
“For so long, this is what I’ve wanted, but when I saw her, I felt betrayal and anger. She left me behind. She left me with our parents . . .” Her words trail off.
“She left you with us.” I bend down to her eye level and finish the thought I know she’s afraid to have.
Palmer’s head springs up, and I brush my finger along her cheek, savoring the warmth of her skin. A girl’s tears have the ability to make a man murderous or turned on. For me, it’s both when it comes to Palmer.
She leans into my touch, and I cup the side of her head, threading my fingers through her hair. I’ve never wanted her more than I do right now. Is it the sudden adrenaline of Reed’s arrival that has me feeling this way? Or is it because Palmer always has a hold on me?
I don’t know what it is, but the moment her lips part, my every thought turns to pressing mine to hers and creating the magic we always make.
“I don’t know what this means, but”— Palmer gazes at me through her dark, wet lashes— “make me not feel any of it.”
I hold my hand out and release a sigh of relief as she takes it. Once she’s standing, her arms wrap around my shoulders, and her fingers gravitate to the ends of my hair. Like any other time, she’s hoisted into my arms with no effort. It’s the one place I’m certain she belongs.
“Are you sure?” I lay her on my bed, covering her body with mine.
“For today, I want to feel like the girl you made me believe I could be.”
“You may regret that.” I reach between our bodies, running my fingertips along Palmer’s thighs.
“When have you ever been concerned about my regrets, Marek?” She tightens her hold on my wrist and moves my touch higher, right where she needs me.
Before we get too lost inside each other, I stand to lock the door. Palmer releases the softest whimper that makes me grin. She watches me lean against the door, her eyes inspecting every inch of my body. She’s hungrier than I’ve ever seen her. Her lust is fueled by anger and fear. I plan to exploit those emotions for my own gain, taking her body as if it actually belongs to me.
“Tomorrow, we aren’t sure what will happen.” I linger at the side of the mattress, and Palmer comes up on her knees, untying the drawstring on my pajama pants. “But today, I’m certain of one thing.”
“What’s that?” she says. She pushes my shirt up and over my head, discarding it on my bedroom floor, then bends, skimming her lips right above my waistband.
I push her chin up, forcing her to look at me. Damn, down on her knees, in front of me, she looks like sin. “I’m going to fuck you until the only thing you can feel is me. Now, turn around.” She spins, and with my palm flat on her back, I push her down onto the mattress until she’s on all fours.
“What are you doing?” A look over her shoulder finds me tugging her panties down over her hips until they get stuck on her thighs. I rip them from her body and toss them behind me. Palmer smirks, a pleased and eager gleam in her eyes.
“Reminding you whose body this is.” I lift the shirt that looks far better on her than on me, exposing every part of her. Without warning, I wrap my arm around her thighs and position her where I need her to be.
“What are you waiting for?” Her words are laced with lust.
“For you to shut the fuck up,” I say, smacking her right on the ass. She yelps, but there’s a grin on her face.
One thing I’ve learned about Palmer Weston is she likes things she never imagined she’d enjoy. She plays bashful and coy about what turns her on. She’s getting braver and unapologetic, watching me the entire time as I rub the spot I’ve pinked.
“Make me.” Her tongue peeks out the side of her mouth, and she nibbles on the end.
“I thought I’d draw it out, make you beg for me.” I bend down and lick the seam of her pussy, feeling myself growing harder, imagining being buried inside her. “Make you feel every touch like a brand to your perfect skin.”
“And now?”
“Now, I’m going to fuck you into my mattress and pray you forgive me once I’m done.”
Without a thought, she steadies herself, knowing what I’m about to do. Never has a pussy looked too pretty not to touch. Her body jerks as I skim my palm like a feather along her skin. Once I slip one finger in, my dick is directly connected to her moans. When I think she’s ready, I tug down my pants, giving me enough room to remove my length.
I rub the head of my dick over her arousal, readying myself, and with a quick plunge, I’m buried inside her.
“You good, baby?” I rest forward, encompassing her back. I tear my shirt off her body and palm her tits. She moans and shifts away, trying to force me to move. I’m stoic, finding nothing but pleasure from seeing her desperate for me.
“I’d be better if you kept your promise.” She drives up a little further, grinding herself into me. “Make me forget, Marek.”
Without another word, I place my hand on the back of her head, forcing her face into the mattress. She turns, smiling at me. With ease, I slide in and out of her, speeding up and slowing down to drive her crazy.
Fucking Palmer will never get old. She knows what to do with her body. No muscle is unused, and she makes sure to give clues to what’s working. When it comes to her and me, everything works.
“Harder,” she begs. The soft tips of her fingers brush my cock as they explore a path to her clit. She rubs light circles, and I yank her hand away, earning a glare from her. “What the hell!”
“Remember when I said no one would steal one of your orgasms again?” I press on the small of her back, steadying myself. “That goes for you, too.”
“Ha!” she huffs. “You better enjoy the one you’re about to draw out, cause after today, I’m not sure what will happen.”
“We’ll see about that.” I put my hand on her neck and apply more pressure than necessary.
My girl likes a fight, and I can’t help but think I’ve taught her this trick. She’s been f
ighting me since the beginning, and even when she is mine, I won’t stop making the chase fun.
Her walls clench around my dick, and my balls draw up, eager for the release. As if she can tell I’m on the edge, she reaches behind her and grazes her hand across my chest. When she reaches the top of my pants, she yanks me forward, forcing me down on top of her.
I pummel into her perfect cunt, her walls milking me into toe-curling submission. My mouth lands on her ear, and it’s all I can do not to whisper out loud everything I’m thinking.
Without intending it, my movements slow. My body rolls into hers, and I retreat, giving her enough space to flip to her back. The moment she does, I’m buried deep inside of her, unmoved, yet fully satisfied. As if we both feel this immense weight lifted off us, our lips curl into mirrored smiles.
“How do you always know what I need?” she whispers, running her fingers through the front of my hair.
“The same way you always know what I need.” My hips draw away from her, and without pause, roll into her again. Her eyes flutter from the sensation.
“Two fucked-up souls.” She lifts her head, and we kiss. It’s different this time, though. Her lips have always been all-consuming. This right here is every day. Ordinary and gentle. Simplistic, yet overwhelming.
I look at this beautifully broken girl. “You are as pure and as gold as they come. I’m what’s fucked-up about you, and nothing else.”
Holding myself up on my forearms, I slide in and out of her, cherishing every part of her body. Unhurried, we kiss and touch each other in a way I’ve never experienced.
“I didn’t know you were capable of that,” Palmer says in a breathy voice as she melts into the mattress. The satisfaction on her face makes me grin.
Once she’s no longer wrapped around me, I instantly miss her.
“Of what?” I tug the sheet up and cover us, encircling her body with my own. She fits perfectly into the crook of my chest.
“Being gentle.” Her eyes soften when she gazes at me over her shoulder.
“I’m not”— I brush her hair away from her face— “but for you, I’m willing to be when you need me to.”
We don’t say anything else. Hidden away in my bedroom for the day, we forget about her sister’s return, never once uttering her name. The sun dips below the horizon, reminding us we have a lot to deal with outside these four walls. Reality doesn’t wait for anyone, and this will be no different.
A lot of us are going to have to admit truths we are afraid of. Others will have to dive deep for forgiveness. The unlucky ones will have choices to make. Mostly, I’m afraid of the uncertainty of who is turning our worlds’ upside down. Destruction seems inevitable.
Which one of us will feel it most?
Chapter Eight
Palmer
The night sky outside Marek’s bedroom is inky black. A few speckles of stars and the shy moon peeking from the clouds cast a small glow. Slowly, not to wake him, I slip from the bed and walk to the window.
Looking down, the campus that has brought me a year’s worth of fear and turmoil seems harmless from this hill. Here in the clouds is where we are safest.
“You all right?” Marek says, his voice scratchy with sleep.
“No, I’m not all right. Someone wanted me dead,” I finally say it out loud. “For whatever reason, someone set out to hurt me, and now I’m expected to live life as if everything is normal. Girls are being sold to the highest bidder, Marek. None of this will ever be okay.”
“I’m going to keep you safe.” He sits up, and the soft moonlight cascades over his sharp, beautiful features.
“How? How do you expect to keep me safe? Everyone I love has been dragged into this. Reed. Delaney. We have this invisible target on our backs, and I don’t know why.”
“For starters, we’re going to have to talk to your sister,” Marek explains. He has the decency to appear bashful over what looms between us.
My senses turn on high alert. I hadn’t expected to see her walk through that door. Hope doesn’t make reality. Seeing her had brought on a rage I hadn’t expected to feel. In that moment, I should have been embracing her, refusing to let her out of my sight. Instead, the resentment I hadn’t realized I had bottled up came rolling out to its rightful place.
She wasn’t murdered.
She isn’t being held against her will.
She’s alive. She’s been alive this whole time.
Meanwhile, I’ve been desperate for answers, more than willing to walk into the lion’s den to feel closer to her. That’s gotten me nothing but nasty scars. Some are visible on my body, but the others are permanently marked on my soul.
“You’re going to have to talk to my sister, too.”
“Her being back, it doesn’t change anything.” Marek hurries from the bed to me. I allow him to wrap his arms around my waist, despite doing my best to fight his advance. “Palmer, look at me.” With a delicacy I didn’t know his strong hands were capable of, he lifts my chin to him. “Feelings are going to be brought up, her being back, and it’s not going to be fun for any of us, but at the end of the day, I need you to trust me.”
“Easier said than done.” I move out of his embrace to sit on the edge of the bed. “You’re all I have, though.” He climbs in behind me, and I roll to my side. “And you’re delusional if you think it doesn’t change anything.”
“You and me? We’re still us.” His body warms my bare back as he whispers into my shoulder.
“Explain to me why the only place I feel safe is in the arms of the creator of my chaos.” I turn and tug the sheet tight over my chest, staring my tormentor in the eyes. “You say I’m pure, but when I’m with you, I don’t feel that way.”
“I don’t have an answer to that, Palmer.” His features soften. “I don’t have an answer to any of this.”
Sleep never comes. I listen to the sounds of the house and the wind outside. Marek’s breathing levels as he falls into a comfortable slumber. There’s evil in this world, and I’m either lying in bed next to it, or it’s waiting for me outside of these arms.
How do I know who to trust?
The sun slowly makes its way up. I haven’t moved an inch since I crawled into bed. Today will bring a lot of answers for us. I roll into Marek’s side and brush my fingers along the bridge of his nose, admiring the wrinkles etched in place.
“No. No. NO!” Marek shouts, his eyes sealed shut. “I got you.” I shake him by the biceps, and his eyes spring open. He immediately wraps me in his arms, clinging to me as if he’s almost lost me. “Holy shit!”
“Bad dream?” I ask, leaning away to look him in the eyes.
“Far too often lately.” He breathes out a lungful of air, and his eyes cut to the shelves of photos.
“Want to talk about it?” I offer, noticing the worry in his eyes. Marek Hawthorne is unrattled, and right now, whatever has haunted his sleep, has his world turned inside out.
“Not yet. Maybe not ever.”
“Penelope?” I ask as thoughtfully as I can.
“My mom showing up has thrown me off a little bit. It seems my ghosts are coming to rest on my lap. The gala last night and Reed showing up, the stress is dredging up a lot of shit I don’t want to deal with.”
“You and your mom, you don’t talk much, then?”
“Let’s just say the one thing you and I have in common is our lack of parental influence.”
“You know, mine weren’t always like this. At one point, I felt seen and worthy.”
“When did everything change?” Marek swipes under my eye, drying the tear before it has the chance to fall.
“A lot of parents claim to not have a favorite child, but they’d be lying. The one that comes up short always knows the truth. Reed was the pride and joy. She could do no wrong. It seems that filtered out into the rest of the world, and they adapted the same ideals of my sister.”
“You’re capable of the same power as her, Palmer.” He tightens his hold on me. “You shou
ldn’t compare yourself.”
“It’s hard not to when you’re looking at me.” There it is. The truth. The good, the bad, and the ugly truth.
Marek slips from the bed, and I immediately miss his touch. I watch the way the muscles in his back bend and stretch as he walks to his dresser and grabs a pair of basketball shorts. When he turns, his smile spreads, knowing my eyes are on him.
“Go talk to your sister.” He leans down, resting one hand next to my hip, and kisses me. It’s soft and pure. Everything we aren’t.
“You go talk to my sister,” I say as he pushes away from me.
“Trust me, I plan to.” He turns and leaves me alone in his room.
When I was days old, Reed is the little girl who rocked my cradle to soothe me. So much has changed since her disappearance. Mostly, I’ve changed. I’ve learned to be strong without her.
I take my time getting dressed, stealing a white t-shirt and black sweatpants from Marek’s drawers. Rolling the waistband to keep them from falling off, I look in the mirror and heave a heavy sigh.
Girl, you are so lost.
Sneaking down the stairs, I follow the chatter to the kitchen, but stop before entering. The ease between Reed and the boys is difficult to witness. Her laughter fills the room like a bouquet of flowers in the middle of a table, bringing life to a space that hasn’t felt any in a long time. Why do I resent my own flesh and blood for being that person for them?
“You going to stand out here all day or go in and face the truth?” Dixon teases from behind me, forcing my heart to leap from my chest.
“They have such deep-seated history,” I say, referring to Reed and Marek.
“The thing about history is it’s meant to be in the past and not relived.” He shrugs and pushes past me.
Dixon Decatur only speaks when spoken to, or when his words hold value. Whether he wants to believe it or not, he’s capable of kindness, and in this moment, he’s proven it to me, settling my fears.
I steel my spine and heart and follow him into the kitchen.
Reed is beside Marek at the stove, shoving a playful elbow into his ribs as they cook breakfast together. My eyes cut to Byron sitting at the kitchen island. There’s a multitude of emotions on display, if anyone took the chance to see them.
