by Lindsey Iler
“That’s the only thing I ask.”
At her softness and sincerity, I raise my head, and our eyes lock, stuck in this moment, the unspoken words between us. Gazing at her now, I know we both feel it. Words aren’t necessary. It’s there, staring right at me.
“You’re a sick kind of perfection, Palmer.” I drop my lips to hers. “Don’t let this world ruin parts of you.”
She pushes forward, wrapping her legs around my waist, tugging my body flush with hers. The kiss is soft, but hurried, followed by a much-needed slow down. Exploring someone isn’t something I’ve ever cared for. Palmer cradles my face in her hands, looking at me like I’m able to block any hurt from ever touching her beautiful skin.
This is a privilege and trust I haven’t earned.
We lie in this bed, in Dillon Johnson’s house, running our fingers over each other’s skin. Palmer takes extra time with her exploration of my tattoo.
“Why don’t you have any other tattoos?” She runs her thumb over the shading as if she’s drawing it herself.
“Never crossed paths with something worth scarring my skin for.” My fingers dig into her hips as she straddles my lap.
“What does it mean?”
“It’s for Penelope.” I try to look away, to hide the truth, but Palmer doesn’t allow it, shifting with me until I’m willing to meet her eyes. “This world is a dark place, Palmer. Darker when she left it, but sometimes I can’t stop wondering if her drowning saved her from feeling any of the pain that was sure to come.”
“So, the two black roses?”
“The blooming one is for her, full of life, like I prefer to remember her.”
“And the one losing petals?”
“That’s me.” I run my hands up and down Palmer’s thighs, trying to distract myself.
“I wish I could have known her, seen you with her.” Palmer’s eyes sparkle with the compassion she’s always shown me when it comes to my baby sister. “She loved you. I’m sure of that.”
“She would have worshiped the ground you walk on.” I smile. It’s hard not to when I think about Penelope. This makes Palmer happy, and she flops down on the mattress beside me.
“Thank you,” she whispers, staring at the ceiling.
“For what?” I ask. She rolls her head to the side.
“Trusting me with pieces of you no one else has seen.”
“And here I thought you came in here to fuck me.” My grin grows, seeing the amusement in Palmer’s eyes.
“There’s still time.” She leans in for another kiss but freezes at the sound of loud cheers and claps. “What’s going on down there?”
“Palmer, I need to apologize.” I run my hands over my face. I’m such an asshole.
“What did you do?” She sits up.
“Open season, remember?” I jump off the bed and pace back and forth, wishing I had thought this out more thoroughly.
******
“We need to talk.”
We’ve been home from the party less than five minutes. Palmer ran up to the guest room as soon as the car came to a stop. I should have run after her, but I didn’t have it in me. We’re still dancing around the obvious, and there are pieces of the puzzle that still need to be dealt with.
One of them is currently standing just outside my bedroom door.
“Can I come in?” Reed asks, her eyes full of comfort and ease. She knows she belongs here, and I’m starting to resent her for it.
“Be my guest.”
She chooses the bed. I sit at my desk and stare at her for a little while, waiting for her to use actual words that mean something. “You said we need to talk, so start talking, Reed.”
“Did you enjoy the show tonight?” She runs her finger over her bottom lip, glancing away as if she’s bashful when we both know she doesn’t have a modest bone in her body.
“I’m more curious why you and Dillon looked so cozy together.”
“Honestly, I was trying to make you jealous,” she says soft enough I almost believe her. “I know the hatred between you two hasn’t slowed down since freshman year, so I used it to my advantage. If I remember correctly, you used to get off on seeing me with other guys.”
Reed has mastered the art of manipulation. She has the skills of a con artist and the beauty of a queen. It’s an insane amount of power to give any person.
“Was that the first time you and Dillon have been together?” I ask, waiting for the lie. To her, it sounds like jealousy, but it’s anything but that with me.
Reed stands and walks over to me. My chin tips up, and I narrow my eyes, taking her in as she straddles one of my legs. Her fingers brush through the front of my hair, tugging tight when she gets closer to the crown of my head, forcing my face towards hers.
“I’m not the kind of girl to betray those who are loyal to me.”
“No, you’re just the kind of girl who would throw her own sister to the wolves.”
“I don’t know what you think I did, but I can assure you, I didn’t throw her to the wolves.” Reed releases her hold on me and slides to her feet. “No one asked you to drag her innocence into this.”
“There’s nothing innocent about your sister.” I cross my arms over my chest, loving the way it feels to dig into Reed’s subconscious.
“I suppose we have you to thank for that.” She flits around my room, trailing her fingers over my things.
“You call your sister a butterfly, and in many ways, she is. Soft, delicate, and honestly beautiful, but on the other side of every butterfly is an uglier counterpart, and I can’t help but think you’re hers.”
“And let me guess, you’re more interested in the beautiful things the world has to offer now, forgetting all about the dark and gruesome you used to invite into your life.”
“I’d like to have the option of beautiful.” I stand and shove Reed onto the bed, covering her body with mine, my mouth dangerously close to her ear. “And trust me when I say, Palmer gives me dark and gruesome whenever I want.”
“You love her?” At her question, I roll off the bed and head for the door.
“If I do, you won’t be the first person I say it to.” I narrow my eyes and pierce her with my stare. “Be out of my room by the time I return. I won’t be alone, Reed.”
Down the hallway in my own house, a girl is tucked behind a door. She is way out of my league, yet so willing to ignore my flaws. A few layers of wood and sheetrock keep us apart. As more time passes, I can’t justify denying what’s happening.
When I open the door, I don’t walk inside. I get a glimpse into Palmer’s turmoil over the things I did to her tonight. The oversized couch makes her seem so small. Her knees are tucked tight to her chest, her forehead pressed against them. When she lifts her head, mascara stains trail down her face. The black marks might as well be scars, reminders of what I’ve done to her.
“How could you?” Palmer shouts, picking up the closest thing to her and chucking it at me. I dodge it, and she grabs something else. This time I let it hit me in the chest. “You recorded it, really? Was it for this moment, or for your own personal collection? Were you waiting for the moment to release it?”
“Of course not.” I shake my head, hating myself even more. “I was running out of ideas. I didn’t know what to do, and I knew if I didn’t do something, someone else would.”
“So, instead of letting someone else break my heart, you decided to do the job yourself,” Palmer says, matter-of-fact, as if she isn’t referring to her own life but someone else’s.
“I’m sorry,” I plead, walking towards her.
“You’re lucky it cut out.” She glances away, trying to pretend she isn’t softening with every step I take.
“Luck had nothing to do with it.” I grin.
“Dixon?” She stares at the wall, avoiding looking in my direction.
“When doesn’t Dixon manipulate our reality a little bit?” I tilt her chin to face me. “I don’t apologize for much, Palmer, but this, I’m sorry f
or.”
“That moment between us was tainted.” Her bottom lip pokes out.
“You aren’t the only one, you know?” I say. “What I mean is, you aren’t alone. I meant what I said in that room.”
“I’m going to need you to elaborate because, in case you don’t know, I’m not a mind reader.” Her legs untuck from her body, and she relaxes into the couch. “Even if I could, I’d stay as far from your brain as possible.”
“You aren’t the only one feeling this”— I point between us— “thing. It’s not just about sex and control like it was in the beginning.”
“Keep going.” Her lips pout, attempting to control the smile she doesn’t want to let me see.
“When you told me you thought you were falling in love with me, Palmer, I didn’t say anything. Nothing of substance anyway, and there’s a reason for that.”
“Things are complicated.” She dabs at the inner corner of one of her eyes, disguising her unwanted tears.
“No, that’s not it. This has nothing to do with Reed. It’s all me.” I tap my finger against my temple. “Everything’s up here, and it haunts me every day.”
“What are you trying to say, Marek?” She looks up. “I don’t know if I can do this. Half the time I don’t know where I stand with you. Am I on your side today? Will it change tomorrow? I didn’t mean for us to happen.”
I’m so close to the curves of her body, she has to tilt her chin up to look at me.
“What I’m trying to say is, somehow along the way, you changed me.”
“I don’t want to change you, Marek.” She shakes her head.
“That’s the thing though. Even with how different I am, you still allow me to be me. That’s the whole point, right?”
“The whole point of what?” she questions my ramblings, dropping her eyes to her lap.
“Of falling in love with someone.”
“You’re in love with me?” she asks, an amused and contrite laugh on the end of her question.
“Please, don’t sound so surprised.” I hold onto her chin to tip her attention to me and only me. When I do, I’m surprised by my body’s reaction to her. The physical desire, always present, is overcome by my yearning to possess her heart more than anything else. “You’ll have me thinking I haven’t been showing you what you mean to me this whole time.”
“Your want is obvious, but I’ve been worried about the rest, if I’m being completely honest.”
“That’s all I ever want from you, and that’s all I have to offer you now.” I bend to graze my lips against hers, but she shies away.
“My sister?” She reminds me of a stone left unturned.
“Is and will always be your sister, but for me, I don’t think she’s ever been what I thought she was to me.”
“There’s nothing standing between us, is what you’re saying?”
“Nothing but a psycho on campus and a ring of sex traffickers.”
“And we don’t know who they are, or what their motive is against my sister.”
“We just know whatever it is, she’s capable of destroying it,” I add.
“You guys should get down here!” Dixon shouts.
“Give us a minute!” I yell.
“We better go.” Palmer stands, worry etched into her forehead. She does her best to erase it, but I see it. I see everything when it comes to her.
I grab her under her arms and hoist her into my arms. She wraps her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck.
“Whatever it is, it can wait a few more minutes.” I brush the loose hair away from her face, cupping her cheek in my hand. “I haven’t said I love you to anyone in ten years, and I just need a few minutes before reality takes over.”
“Marek . . .”
“It’s there, Palmer, that thing you need from me. I feel it under my skin constantly. I just don’t know how to dig it out of the dark.”
“The darkness doesn’t scare me.” She bites the corner of her lip, teasing me as she always does.
“It shouldn’t. You’re the one who invited it into your life.”
For the first time in ten years, outside of the boys, I know what it means to feel whole. I never got the feeling of content and acceptance under my parents’ roof. The day Penelope died, a part of me died, too. I’ve used girls to try to ignore pieces of who I am to disguise the truth. You can’t hide from your bullshit, no matter how hard you try.
I’m a broken boy.
If it weren’t for Palmer, I’d still believe what I had with Reed was real. In the moment, it sure as hell felt like it. She managed to settle nicely into my life, convinced me what we had made sense.
Palmer has shown me what is possible in this life.
Palmer flexes her hips to gain some height. The kiss she gives is quick, and her smile widens. “Let’s make a promise, though. We’re still us. We’re still two fucked up souls.”
“Are you making me promise to a relationship of depravity?” At the thought, my dick strains against my zipper. I grab her neck, mingling my fingertips within her hair, and push our lips together, getting lost within the feel of each other.
“No, seriously, guys, you need to get down here!” Dixon yells again. “Right now.”
Chapter Fourteen
Palmer
Lost in our little world, Marek and I nearly run into the couch as we enter the living room.
The space is quiet except for a few sniffles. Worried about what’s going on, I glance at everyone. Dixon and Breaker are together in the middle of the room. Byron walks in from the kitchen with a lumpy towel in his hand.
“Here you go, sweetheart.” As he holds his hand out, Breaker and Dixon move out of the way, exposing a girl no younger than seventeen, if I were to guess.
“What’s going on?” Marek asks, reaching to grab my hand.
“I didn’t know where else to go.” The girl stands, frantically looking for an escape.
I hurry to her. She winces when I touch my finger to the cut under her eye. “Sorry, but that needs to be cleaned. Do you mind if I . . .”
No one likes to be treated with kid gloves, but she’s in rough shape. Physically, it’s obvious by the cuts and bruises. The busted lip proves whoever did this to her couldn’t care less what happened to her. Her clothes are torn, ripped into scraps, and her makeup smeared.
“Can you boys get us some things to clean her up?” I ask. Dixon nods in answer and walks off with Breaker close behind him. Marek doesn’t budge. “You, too. Give us a minute.” He bends down and kisses me on my crown as he passes into the kitchen.
Once we’re alone, the girl gawks at me.
“What?”
“No, it’s just I didn’t think anyone would see the day that Marek Hawthorne was . . .” Her thought trails off. She shrugs the absence of the rest of her sentence away.
“Yeah, well, trust me when I say, I never expected Marek to stumble into my life.”
“He didn’t necessarily stumble, though.”
“No, I guess you’re right.” I smile, amused by her quick observations. “Now, want to tell me your name?”
“Reagan Waterstone,” she whispers as if someone will overhear her.
“Okay, Reagan, are you hurt anywhere else, aside from what I can already see?” I sit on the side of the ottoman across from her.
“My ribs, maybe,” she replies, dropping her stare to her lap.
“I’m going to check it out, if that’s okay.” I reach forward, and when she doesn’t shy away, I grab her hem and expose her stomach. Deep purple swirls spread across her right side.
“Oh, hell no,” Dixon whisper-yells. Our heads swing to the side when we hear him. He spots the fury on my face, wincing, with his tail between his legs as he approaches. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting to see”— he twirls his finger in the direction of Reagan’s bruise— “all of that.”
“I wasn’t expecting to get it, so I’d say we’re even,” Reagan quips, focusing on where my hand pushes on her ribs.
“My guess is they aren’t broken, just badly bruised.” I move outward, away from the contusion. “Does it hurt here?”
“Not as much, but a little,” she answers.
I reach my hand out for the first aid kit. Breaker sits down beside me, silently offering to be my nurse while I fix up Reagan’s face. We stay silent as I work. Breaker is a lot of help, already knowing what I need before I ask.
Marek stands in the corner, watching as I work, worry tattooed along the lines of his face.
“Do you want to tell us what happened?” I ask as I get to the last cut, the worst of them, right below her eye on her cheekbone. The skin is completely split. When Reagan doesn’t say anything and nervously looks around the room, I get the hint. “Okay, maybe why you came here, of all places.”
“I didn’t know where else to go.” Reagan glances at Marek. “He seemed concerned when we ran into each other at the dorm, so I figured, maybe, that concern would spill over to tonight.”
“What is she talking about?” I look at him for answers.
“The night I came to see you, after I was released from jail, I ran into Reagan on the stairwell. I noticed a bruise. Two weeks later, I checked in on her because it seemed odd. She was frazzled like she’d been chased.”
“You suspected she was a link to . . .” I don’t finish the thought, unsure if Reagan is someone we can trust with our secrets. Marek’s nod gives me my answer.
“A link to what?” Reagan’s eyes bounce to each of our faces.
Dixon is the one who holds her eye contact. They’re in the middle of a stalemate, and neither of them is willing to look away. He nods once, like they have some unwritten agreement not to keep secrets, when they have only known each other inside this room.
“A link to what happened to Reed Weston, and the events that followed.”
“Reed was murdered.”
“That’s what they believed,” I add, glancing around the room for any sign of my sister. As if she senses I need her, she walks out of the shadows and descends the stairs.
“You weren’t at the party then, I take it?” Breaker asks, looking at Reed. “She made quite the entrance.”
