by T. L Smith
“He’s perfection.” A smile tugs at my lips, not from her mother’s words, but the groan that accompanies it from Kandi, as I shut the front door, walking out. Getting into my car, Pam smiles but doesn’t say anything. Her cheek is red and starting to bruise, and I know automatically that’s where he hit her. I start driving, straight to that old prick’s house.
Pam doesn’t get out of the car when I come to a stop. She stays exactly where she is, unmoving. Despite her resistance, she’s terrified of him. That happens when the one person in this life that’s meant to protect you, instead breaks you.
The door is open, so I don’t wait to go inside, my hands already have my brass knuckles on as I find him sitting on the sofa with a beer in his hand watching Family Feud. He looks up at me and tries to sit up, but he isn’t fast enough. My knuckles meet his face, and I feel the bone crunch under my hand. I do it again while he screams at me to stop and tries to cover his face. My hand then punches his belly. It’s huge and I’d be surprised if he even feels it through all that fat.
“Huxley...” My hands pause, my breathing heavy. Turning around, Pam’s standing there shaking her head. Looking back to the piece of shit on the couch, he spits out a line of his blood then picks up his beer to wash it down.
“Every hand that’s laid upon her will be laid upon you tenfold.”
The old man looks to Pam then to me. He doesn’t say anything but nods his head. He knows I will, I’ll beat him every time with no remorse, just like he doesn’t have remorse when he hits Pam.
“Get your shit and get in the car.”
She nods, running into her shitty room then meets me in the car. She smiles all the way home because she doesn’t have to go back to that place for at least tonight.
“She may be too good for you, you know?” Pam turns in her seat, tucking her legs under her bottom.
“Feet down, now.” She does as I say. “Who?” My hands are slightly bruised as they grip the steering wheel.
“Kandi. She’s good, we aren’t like her.”
“You’re good, Pam,” I tell her. She’s a good girl, despite her situation she’s doing excellent at school. Even with loss of attendance, she’s still in the top three of her class.
“You and I... we’re tainted is all I mean. She isn’t.” She shrugs like she knows what she’s talking about.
“You aren’t, stop thinking like that about yourself.”
“Yes, Hux,” she says with a hint of sarcasm.
Arriving at home, she gets out and runs straight up to her room. No one ever goes into it, except her. It will be hers for good when she turns eighteen, and she can finally leave that hellhole. It’s not like we haven’t tried, I have tried many times to make it so she can live with me. I’m not considered a stable home. I laugh when they say that to me. And they think that asshole is? He only has her around for the paycheck he gets from keeping her. He’s a smart bastard. There’s no criminal history, so no one really knows what a devil he is apart from Pam and me.
We eat our dinner in silence, and when she goes to bed, I wait.
I wait for Kandi to come.
Hoping she will.
But when I finally pass out, I realize she won’t.
Chapter 21
Kandi
Jarod’s at my door, I can hear him talking. He’s speaking as if everything’s normal. Nothing is normal. No. Not after what he’s done. My mother asks him to come back another time.
How did he find my address? I didn’t give it to him.
Stacey walks in, and her hand clasps mine as I sit on my bed and listen to my mother speak to Jarod. He broke my heart, not once, but twice. Lying to someone you love about your death—is that forgivable? He’s done that, he broke a part of me I’m not sure will ever recover. He fractured my heart and left it beating on the ground.
“She’s listening, I just want to speak to her.”
My mother says something I don’t hear. My feet hit the cold floor, and I walk out to him at the door. The same place I watched Huxley leave only a few hours ago. Comparing the two men isn’t possible, I wouldn’t even know where to begin. Nothing about them is alike. Huxley’s possibly the most attractive, confusing human being I have ever met—he makes me feel crazy things.
And Jarod? Well, Jarod is... well. Jarod was... my husband.
When his eyes hit me they soften, and remind me of the eyes I stared in and loved for so many years.
“He’s a liar, Kandi. You can’t believe anything that leaves Huxley’s mouth.”
Part of me believes that to be the truth. Jarod never lied to me before the biggest deception of them all. A falsification that trumps everything.
“Is that what you really came to talk about? Huxley?” I shake my head. “Leave, Jarod. Leave.”
He steps in but stops when Stacey holds up her hand, standing next to me.
“We need to talk, Kandi. You need to know I didn’t do this because I don’t love you, I did it because I had to.”
He can’t be serious. My cackle is more sarcasm than actual laughter.
“You don’t do that to someone you love, Jarod, and that’s what you did. I loved you.”
“What do you mean loved?”
Jarod used to do that, pick up on my words and then use them against me. He’s good at deciphering me, and I hate it.
“Loved... I’ve mourned you, Jarod. Now leave.”
His head shakes. His blond hair is longer than I remember. His face is still the same, the same one I fell in love with, just aged slightly.
My mother holds the door open before she speaks. “It’s best you leave now, Jarod.”
He listens and starts to turn, then a thought occurs to me.
“Does your mother know?”
He stiffens. His mother and I never got along but she should at least know. She loves him, babies him even. I was never good enough for him in her eyes. He doesn’t answer me. Instead, he seems to ignore the question, so I ask again, “Does your mother know?”
He gazes to the floor, and in a quiet voice he says, “She knows.”
“The whole time?”
Jarod nods his head again.
Jesus! She cried so damn much at his funeral. How could that be true? How could she know and not me? She’s a damn good actress, that’s all I can say.
“Leave! Right now, Jarod.”
“Kandi...”
My voice rises higher than I want it to when I speak again. “Leave.”
He steps back until he’s out the door and I reach forward, slamming it in his face. Arms wrap around me, and I automatically know they’re my mother’s. Stacey starts swearing and slamming her feet on the ground while Henry attempts to calm her down.
It takes me a few minutes to catch my breath. When I do, I pull away, reaching for my car keys.
“Kandi, where are you going?”
They all stop talking and turn to look at me.
“I need to go for a drive.”
“You better not be going after him.”
“Not him,” I say, walking out of my cottage and getting in my car. I’m driving to the only place I can think of to go right now—to work.
After a short drive, I pull into the car park and step out and into the club.
Davina’s the first person I see. Her eyes rake me up and down. She walks over, her hands reach for mine, and she squeezes them. “Honey, you aren’t really dressed to be in here.”
Looking down, I notice my clothes are covered in paint. I didn’t think when I left home about how I was dressed, I just needed to get out of there and away from everyone.
“Shit!”
“It’s okay, don’t even worry. You’re at a place full of women.” She pulls me into the back and starts undressing me. I let her because my main goal for tonight is to be able to sit at that bar and drink my sorrows away. Hands run through my hair, and not long after, I’m pulled out into the dark lighting of the bar, with loud music blasting through the speakers. I don’t even care wh
at I’m wearing, what’s the point if it gets me what I want, and what I want right now is alcohol and lots of it. Davina slides me over a cocktail and smirks as she walks away. I stay there, drinking and listening to everyone around us but not really taking in anything that’s being said. The barstool next to me slides out, and I choose to take no notice. That is until the voice starts speaking to me.
“Didn’t think I’d see you back here again.” Turning to the sound of the guy I met here last time when Huxley left me at the bar, he nods his head toward the bartender.
Davina’s stuck down at the other end serving.
“Michael, wasn’t it?” I ask, looking back to my drink.
Another drink slides in front of me, so I finish the one I have and start on the next one.
“You remember, I’m flattered.” When I turn to look at him his hand is on his chest, and he’s gushing at me.
“Don’t be flattered, I’m good with names is all.”
Michael nods, removing his hand from his chest and taking a sip of whiskey, same drink as last time.
“No boss being your bodyguard tonight?” he questions me.
“Huxley?” I ask, and he nods his head. “He isn’t my bodyguard.”
The second cocktail seems to go down even faster. Waving Davina over, she comes straight away.
“Michael, you aren’t annoying my girl here, are you?”
“Of course not.”
He isn’t, surprisingly. Davina looks at both of my empty glasses and raises an eyebrow.
“I should let you know now, while you can still remember. Huxley’s coming.”
I groan, my forehead hitting the counter. Words leave my mouth, but they’re more like a mumble.
“Why?”
“He asked me to call anytime you’re in the club, and you are here so...”
“She did as I asked her to.” Huxley’s voice comes in long and smooth behind me, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
“Go away,” I grumble. Clearly, I’m affected by the alcohol. Damn! I shouldn’t have had two cocktails so quickly.
“You know the rules... if you don’t move, I’ll carry you.”
“To your spank bank?” I giggle, my lips touching the counter. I throw my head back realizing what my lips just touched—ewww. If he wasn’t behind me, I would have fallen flat on my back. His hands are under my arms, lifting me up, so I stand on both feet.
“Yes, that’s where you’ll be going.”
My spine straightens, and I turn to face him. Big mistake, because with alcohol in my system he’s even more attractive and my lady parts are rejoicing loudly at the sight of him. They want him more than ever.
“Hurry up and take me before reality kicks back in.”
He nods, reaching out and lifting me. People cheer, and I don’t care as my arms wrap around his neck. At first, I think he’s going to take me to his office, hell, even my office. Instead, he takes me outside, the cold air hitting my skin before he places me in his car, buckling me up before he slides in himself and drives away. Between my legs starts aching for him. His hand glides between my legs and he stops before it drops lower and squeezes.
“Where are we going?” My feet tuck under my ass as I turn to face him. His hand stays where it is as he slightly glances my way and then looks back to the road.
“My place,” is all he gives me.
My hand sneaks out and touches his thigh, slowly rising higher until it comes into contact with his hard cock through his jeans. He doesn’t tell me to stop or move me out of the way. He just keeps driving. His hand tightens on my thigh while he smirks. Those smirks, I’ve worked out, are only reserved for me. It makes me feel powerful that I can pull them from him.
My hand grips tighter around his cock as his car comes to a stop. He looks to me, then in one swift movement he has me on his lap and unbuckled, my back against the steering wheel and his lips on mine.
He tastes like sin, everything I shouldn’t have but want right now. One hand leaves me, but his lips stay glued to mine as he opens the door. He lifts me as he gets out, only pulling away briefly to kiss my neck before his lips land back on mine. My legs tighten around him, wanting his body as close as humanly possible.
Huxley opens the front door with one hand and slams it with his foot, then takes the steps fast as if I don’t weigh a thing. Pulling back, a giggle leaves my mouth as he opens the door to a room which is clearly not his, and sets me down on the bed. He steps back, pulling his clothes free from his body.
It’s then I can breathe again without him on me.
It’s then I realize I’m doing this because I’m angry. The way he brushed me off earlier. And for some unknown reason, I’m highly fucking attracted to this man.
It’s not like he’s kind or thoughtful. No. I think a lot of it is in the way he looks at me like I’m all he sees.
Jarod never looked at me like that. He would give me word upon word and tell me, but it’s not the same. Huxley, he doesn’t give me words of affirmation or love, he gives me his body and those looks. Like the one he’s giving me right this second. His eyes have gone dark, and he’s biting his lip. He takes a predatory step closer to me, completely naked. I still have all my clothes on, but he changes that the minute his hands start touching me.
In one swipe I see it, I see him. I see that he isn’t just a filler. He’s someone to me, he has meaning now. It’s getting stronger with each second I breathe him in.
Huxley isn’t Jarod, he doesn’t like or possibly even love like Jarod does. Jarod confirms things with his words. But when I look up to Huxley as he finishes removing my last piece of clothing, I see something there. Maybe it’s something he doesn’t want me to see, but I see it. Huxley has feelings for me. He wouldn’t go out of his way like he does for me for anyone else. Davina even confirms that fact. He doesn’t get as angry or frustrated with anyone else the way he does with me. I wonder if he’s as blind as I was if he thinks it’s nothing more than a physical attraction that we share and that we can’t get enough of. It isn’t, and I’m afraid it’s growing to be more. So much more.
Lost in my own head, I’m brought out of my musings when he cups my chin gently, his finger pulling my lip out which I was biting down on quite hard.
“You’re my medicine, and with each new dose I’m recovering,” he says then nips at my lip I was biting. His words shock me, stir something within me, but the alcohol kicks in and I shake it away. Huxley pushes me down on the bed and hovers over me. His body’s lean and fit. He’s so strong, but he treats me as if I might break.
I don’t love him, though.
You don’t fall in love that fast, it’s a buildup and it takes time. With Jarod, my love for him was built up over a long period of time. Shaking my head, I pull Huxley to me, forcing his lips to be harsher, taking what I want him to give. My legs spread and my hips arch up to him. I can feel his hard cock at my entrance, so I arch even more and move until he’s at my entry and push onto him.
Huxley hisses, breaking our kiss then pauses. He looks down at me and his thumb wipes at my cheek. Tears seem to be leaving my eyes. He slides in harder, doing as I silently wish him to do. To fuck me and leave any sort of emotion out of it. He does so without punishment. He takes and takes, while my eyes won’t stop leaking.
Huxley leans down as I clench the bed sheets with my fingers, licks away my tears and whispers to my ear, “Don’t fall for me, Kandiland. I’ll only break you.”
And he does.
Right then and there.
He breaks me with each thrust. With each look, and with each word.
Chapter 22
Huxley
She looks at me with determination. The tears have dried as she lies next to me naked in the bed. My finger touches her nose, and she closes her eyes briefly.
“Why do you do that?”
I look at her confused. “Do what?”
She touches her nose with her finger, and I shrug because I really don’t know.
“You only do it after you kiss me.”
We were kissing, and I kissed away those fucking tears that told me to back away from her. That I need to run. The look in her eyes isn’t hurt, it’s realization. I’ve seen that look before when someone’s about to tell me they love me.
They were wrong.
She is wrong.
“Habit,” I reply, lying on my back and looking up to the white ceiling.
“I think you do it to show your affection toward me.”
I turn to look at her. “Don’t bring more into this than there already is. We fuck. We’re good at it. Nothing more.”
She nods her head, turning onto her back and looking up as well. “You ever going to take me into your room, or always the spare one?” she asks, shocking me.
How did she know this room isn’t mine? The house is mine, so technically it’s one of my rooms.
“Are you still drunk?”
She smiles as she answers me. “No, but I want to be. Especially to deal with Jarod.”
“Jarod?” I ask. Then I remember that’s what she called Patrick—it’s his real name.
“My husband, or ex-husband... Fuck! I don’t even know. What do you call someone that was once dead but now is not?”
“A fuckhead,” I reply.
She laughs, her body turning so her leg hooks over me, and her head rests on my shoulder. “You so do care, you’re just very good at hiding it. Now take me to your room, so I can sleep and shower.”
This woman, this fucking woman.
I get up, walking around to her side of the bed, and scoop her up as if she weighs nothing. She practically doesn’t. Her hands wrap around my neck as I carry her. When I open my bedroom door, she doesn’t look around. Instead, she intently watches me. Opening the door to my shower, I place her to the floor and turn it on. She steps in, her pink hair flattening out under my powerful showerhead as I step in behind her. My hands skim her waist as she lays her head back, letting the water wash over her face.
