A Little Bit Wicked (The Wickeds

by Melissa Foster

  He told her a story about Blaine standing up for him at school and how things had changed between them after that. He went on to talk about the things Blaine had said and taught him about friendship and family. He told her stories about his other siblings, too, but they were much younger than him. They’d never had competitive feelings toward him like Blaine had. They’d followed him around as if he were just another brother.

  Chloe would never look at any of them the same way again.

  Justin went on to explain how the other foster families had punished him for running away and acting out. “I wanted that punishment as a form of penance, but also as a means to keep myself in some kind of warped box so I would remain angry at the world. I thought I was such a badass kid, I could take on the world and win. I never knew how messed up that was until Preacher and Reba came into my life.”

  “Preacher? The guy who founded your club? Is that Rob, or a real preacher?”

  “That’s Rob’s road name, and it’s what I call him. He is the best role model a guy could ask for. He gave me reasons to find my way out of that self-destructive box, and he did it with patience and sometimes with anger, but never aimed at me. His anger was aimed at the life I’d been born into. And even though we call him Preacher, he didn’t have to preach to make his point. I remember this time when I was about fourteen—by then I’d learned the errors of my ways and was no longer a dick to everyone—he gave me a pocketknife as a show of trust. I’d whittled a bird one afternoon and tossed it in the trash before going to the beach. When I came home I went into his office to tell him something, and there on his desk was that crappy wooden bird. I asked him why he’d taken it out of the trash, and he told me that I had put time into making it, which, he said, in and of itself made it valuable. I argued, of course, and told him I was just bored and wasting time. He told me to go waste some more time because I was talented.”

  She laughed softly. “I love the way he encouraged you.”

  “Yeah. He’s a great guy. After that, he’d leave pieces of scrap wood on my bed or on my schoolbooks. Eventually the wood was accompanied by sculpting and art books. He’d mix in tools from time to time, or metals, stone, an enrollment form to an art class. He’d leave books about sculpting around the house, in the bathroom, or on my favorite chair. He was a sneaky bastard. I remember one time I came into the kitchen and he and Reba were looking at an artist’s catalog. Reba was gushing over a sculpture of an angel that cost a few thousand bucks. Well, this was the woman who told me how much they wanted me in their home every time they brought me back after I’d run away. She fed me dinners when I didn’t deserve them, hugged me when she probably should have slapped me. She tended to my cuts and bruises and treated me the way I think my own mother would have if she’d been strong enough to leave instead of…you know. I wanted to give Reba something back, and the one thing I had to offer was the skill that Preacher had been fostering in me.”

  “You made her the angel?”

  “Yeah, and she got so choked up, she cried. She said she’d never seen anything more beautiful. She still has it. She keeps it in the living room. At the time, I didn’t know how bad it was,” he said with a laugh. “It definitely looks like a kid made it. But I didn’t think of that back then. They believed in me, Chloe. I didn’t trust it at first. It took me nearly a year to believe that the Wickeds and the Dark Knights were who they seemed to be, and it took me even longer to fully trust them. But when that kind of support is there every day no matter how much you fight it, you learn the strength of it and the value of being someone who can offer it to others. I wish there had been someone like that in your life when you were growing up.”

  How could she have ever worried about him hurting her? Even now, when he was pouring out his soul, he was still thinking of her. “I had Serena, and we believed in each other.”

  “I know, and I’m glad you did. But I wish you’d had an adult to take care of you so you didn’t have to do it all yourself.”

  She shivered against the cool air, and he held her closer, buffering her from the breeze.

  “Cold? Do you want to leave?” he asked.

  “No. I want to hear the rest of your story, if you don’t mind. And I’m warm here in your arms.”

  “We might never leave if that’s the case,” he said soft and low, making her belly tingle.

  He never missed a chance to flirt, and after they’d bared their souls, she had the urge to kiss him. If they didn’t keep talking, she just might do it, so she said, “Did you ever see your father again?”

  “Yes. The Wickeds had changed my life, but I was still carrying around a lot of unresolved turmoil. My real father had killed a man, and I not only carried my father’s name, but also a shitload of guilt because I had known he was going to pull off a big job and I didn’t try to stop him.”

  “You were a little boy, Justin. You couldn’t have stopped him.”

  “I know, but that didn’t take away my culpability. When I was fifteen, Preacher helped me track down the family of the man my father had killed, and I apologized to them. They knew I had been just a kid back then, and they forgave me. And man, I needed that forgiveness. But I also needed something else that only my father could give me. It didn’t matter that by then I felt like a Wicked. I wasn’t one. I was a Brown, and I hated that so much. It felt like a noose around my neck, a constant reminder of the man I had come from and all that he’d taken from me—my mother, my childhood, hell, even several years of my life following his arrest. But I didn’t know what to do about it. Then I saw Violet over the summer, and I told her about my dilemma.”

  Chloe felt a pang of jealousy. “How long have you known her?”

  “I met her out on Wellfleet Pier when I was a long-haired thirteen-year-old punk with an attitude and an unlit cigarette hanging out of my mouth. She was twelve, sitting on the pier dressed in all black, looking like she hated the world. We watched each other from a distance for a while, and at some point she told me to ‘sit the fuck down.’”

  “Sounds like Vi.”

  “Yeah, she’s awesome. We shot the shit and got to know each other and spent every day together while she was in town, and for many of the summers after that. She’d been ripped away from the only family she’d ever known when she was just a kid, and her crazy mother had dragged her all over creation, never giving her a chance to have friends or a stable home. We both had trust issues, but suddenly we had someone from our own side of the tracks, so to speak, to talk to. We’ve been best friends ever since. She’s the one who suggested that I go see my father in prison and tell him exactly what I thought of him. She said the bastard deserved my wrath. What she knew that I didn’t at that time was that I needed that closure, too. I needed to tell him how much I hated him for the way he treated my mother, and a whole lot of other shit. Violet’s also the one who suggested I ask Preacher and Reba if they’d ever consider adopting me. She said I had a chance at a family, and I should take it.”

  “I knew you and Violet were close, but I never realized how much you two have been through together or what you really mean to each other.” She mustered the courage to tell him what else he deserved to know. “I have something to confess.”

  He arched a brow.

  “Another reason I was keeping you at arm’s length was that you…um…tried to help Vi forget Andre when she first moved back here by sleeping with her. It wasn’t something I would ever do, and I didn’t understand it.”

  “Chloe, Vi and I go way back, and that was a—”

  She pressed her lips to his, silencing him. His lips were warm and sweet, and it was just a closed-mouth kiss, but the electricity sparking between them brought a rush of exhilaration. When she pulled back, she was breathless and craving more. Lord help her, because the look in his eyes made her want to take it. She had acted on impulse, and she was afraid she might do it again, so she quickly said, “I don’t need you to justify it. I just wanted you to know why else I had held back. So…did you take h
er suggestion?”

  “Chloe” came out fast and fierce as he buried his hand in her hair and crushed his mouth to hers.

  His lips were soft but insistent as his tongue swept over hers. He kissed her passionately, taking his time, as if he were savoring every moment. His fingers threaded into her hair, and he angled her mouth beneath his, their tongues tangling in an exquisite, toe-curling dance. His arm tightened around her waist, strong and possessive, and he made a low, sensual sound that seared through her like lightning. She’d dreamed of kissing him so many times, she was sure she’d known exactly what it would be like. But boy had she been wrong. She’d never experienced anything close to the divine ecstasy of kissing Justin Wicked. She wanted to stay there in his arms, with the breeze on her cheeks and his lips on hers until the sun came up.

  When their lips finally parted, slow and longingly, they were both breathless. Justin kept her close, their foreheads touching, and said, “I’ve been dying to do that since the first time I set eyes on you.”

  Her thundering heart drowned out the sounds of the sea, but Justin’s confession cut right through both. “Me too.” She knew if he kissed her again, she wouldn’t want to stop, and she wasn’t quite ready for that, so she sat back and said, “You’d better finish your story because kissing you is…”

  “Addictive?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He flashed an arrogant grin and said, “Afraid of attacking me again?”

  Yes. “No,” she said unconvincingly. “It’s just…I want to hear the rest.”

  “Yeah, okay. That should be real easy when all the blood in my brain has rushed south.” He chuckled, and she swatted him. “Hey, it’s your fault, sweet lips. I was just sitting here and all of a sudden you were all over me.”

  She swatted at him again, laughing as he caught her hand midair and tugged her forward, pressing his lips to hers.

  “That was my fault,” he said in a low voice. “And just so we’re clear, I’m going to finish my story, but I’m not done with that incredible mouth of yours.”

  In her head she was doing a happy dance, but outwardly, she lifted her chin and said, “We’ll see about that. So, did you take Vi’s advice or not?”

  “I did. I asked Preacher if he’d ever consider adopting me.” Justin’s expression turned thoughtful, like he was remembering that very moment. “He said he and Reba had been hoping I might want that one day.”

  “Yay!” Chloe exclaimed. “I knew they must have agreed, since your last name is Wicked, but hearing it makes me happy.”

  “It was definitely a yay moment. I could have gotten emancipated, and it was probably a prick move on my part not to, but I wanted my father to physically and mentally relinquish his parental rights. I’d hoped that by having him actually sign over his rights, somewhere in his cold heart he’d feel the loss.”

  “That’s understandable. I don’t think it was a prick move. Do you think he felt bad?”

  “No. But that’s okay. In the end, I’d done what I needed to do for my own peace of mind, and just having that tie legally severed set me free. The same way that becoming a Wicked felt like I’d finally found my home.”

  Chloe may not have had a new family when she’d left home to finish college, but she knew what it was like to finally have a place where she felt safe.

  They sat on the beach for a long time, each lost in their own thoughts. She felt so close to him. Knowing Justin had overcome so much, understanding the man he truly was and all that he stood for, gave her great admiration for him.

  At some point they shifted positions, and Justin tucked her against his side, so they were both facing the water. They talked a little here and there, watching a piece of driftwood moving toward the shore with the force of the waves and then floating back out.

  “That driftwood reminds me of how I feel every time I see my mother. It doesn’t matter how much I accomplish, or how far I go. When I see her, she still makes me feel like I’m moving backward, drifting, fighting to move forward, to find my island, but never able to stay there.” She rested her head on Justin’s shoulder and said, “I see your settling in with the Wickeds in that driftwood, too. But instead of being pulled back out to sea, the land was your old life and you were consistently drawn into the welcoming arms of a family as vast and deep as the sea.”

  Justin rested his head against hers and said, “Two pieces of driftwood looking for their island. That’s you and me.”

  “I think you found yours with Rob and Reba.”

  “Maybe, but a wise woman just described my family life perfectly as the deep blue sea, so I’m holding out for my island.”

  The salty air whipped around them, and Chloe shivered again. How long had they been out there? An hour? Two? She didn’t know or care. All she knew was that she felt closer to Justin than she’d ever felt to anyone, and tonight was right up there at the top of her best nights ever list, right along with the night last weekend when they’d danced beneath the stars.

  “Is it crazy that I don’t want the night to end?” she asked.

  “I was just thinking the same thing. It took us what? A year and a half to get here, give or take?”

  “Something like that.”

  He lowered his lips to hers, kissing her softly. “I finally have you all to myself,” he said just above a whisper. “Leaving is the last thing I want to do, but Baz and Evie, his assistant, are doing surgery on a couple of the dogs tonight, and I promised I’d go back to help.”

  “Oh my gosh, Justin!” She pushed to her feet and said, “Let’s go. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you late.”

  He stood up and took her hand, like it was natural. She liked the way they fit together as they walked toward the path. His hand was big, rough, and strong, just like him. If she didn’t know better, she’d think Rose had given him CliffsNotes from their conversation.

  After stopping to put on their sandals and boots, Justin took her hand again and said, “I want you to know something. Vi and I slept together as teenagers when she was here for a few weeks over the summers. We trusted each other, and we kept each other safe, but it was never a boyfriend-girlfriend thing. Then we didn’t mess around at all for about ten years or so, until she was tricked into coming to the Cape by her mother the summer it happened. She’d left Andre overseas in the middle of the night without telling him. She didn’t even leave a note, and she and Desiree had barely known each other. She was the saddest I’d ever seen her. She was desperately in love with Andre, and she was really messed up. She honestly thought if she could—not to be crass, but—fuck like she used to, with no emotion, just filling a void, she’d get over him. That night was a one-time thing, and it was literally just two friends fucking with the purpose of getting rid of her love for him. She ended up in tears, Chloe. It’s not a good memory for either of us. We both knew she’d never move past Andre. She loved him too much. And she hated herself for leaving him the way she did. But I was there to hold her while she cried and to remind her that she was loved and—probably more important—lovable. Lovable as a friend to me, not in the own-your-heart kind of way. But to the right man, to Andre, she was lovable in the way a life partner should be.”

  The honesty in his voice, and his need to explain, touched her deeply. “You really didn’t have to tell me all of that. What you said on the beach told me how important you are to each other.”

  “I know, but I want you to know that what happened between us was a moment in time. Just like the time I posed naked for her and spent the night. You already know nothing happened between us then. Those things were moments in time, and they’ll never happen again. There have never been romantic feelings between us, and there never will be. Even if she and Andre were to break up, which I don’t think they ever will, there would never be a Justin and Violet. Do you understand what I’m saying? She’ll always be one of my closest friends, and I hope you can accept that because I will always be there for her, but not in that way ever again.”

 
“Okay,” she said, knowing she could trust his word. “She’s my friend, too, and I guess I do feel better knowing that.”

  He exhaled loudly. “Great. Thank you.”

  They headed up the path, and as the sand turned to gravel, Chloe felt like she was leaving the chains of her past behind. The Salty Hog came into view, lit up like a celebration against the night sky. Music hung in the air as they crossed the parking lot to her car.

  Justin gathered her in his arms. Moonlight reflected in his eyes, and she felt like she was seeing the real Justin Wicked for the first time. Not because he’d never shown her before. The openness, honesty, and appreciation in his eyes had probably always been there, but her armor had been too thick for her to see all of that for what it was.

  “Look at us, heartbreaker. What do you think?”

  “I think it’s new and a little weird to be standing here with you like this. But it also feels good and right, doesn’t it?”

  “It does, babe. Tell me you’re not going to pull away from me tomorrow.”

  “I’m not. I was actually hoping we could see each other Saturday night,” she said coyly.

  “You’re blushing, sweet cheeks. Does this mean you plan on taking advantage of me this weekend?”

  Her pulse quickened from heat flaring between them. “I did enjoy those kisses. But don’t get your hopes up for more, biker boy.”

  “You like our kisses, huh?” His eyes drilled into her. “We can definitely enjoy more of those.”

  He brushed his lips over hers, soft as a feather, and backed her up against her car. She held her breath, readying for a kiss. But his lips passed over hers, across her cheek, leaving her desperate for their touch as he said, “You’re busy Friday night?”