by Gail McHugh
I nod and lean in, sweeping my tongue across the seam of her lips. I don’t wanna talk—I can’t. I need to feel a part of her inside me. Something to dull the numbness taking up residence in the center of my chest. Amber’s sugary-sweet tongue delves over mine, a light moan escaping her as she tightens her grip around my neck. I deepen the kiss, my hands slipping up the graceful slope of her back. My pulse accelerates, my need to fuck her senseless increasing as I glide my fingers across her delicate shoulders.
With palpable reluctance, Amber breaks the kiss, the concern in her eyes ripping through me as she brings her hands to my cheeks. “Talk to me, Brock. Tell me what you’re thinking.” It’s not a request, but a gentle demand.
I swallow the tightness creeping up my throat. “There’s a possibility my family won’t show.”
“Big deal,” she whispers. “We don’t need them to. We’ll still have fun.”
“And if they do,” I bite out, “it’ll turn into a shit show and fucking embarrass you. Embarrass all of us.”
She sighs, her gaze stroking the planes of my face. “Stop it. Even if it does turn into a shit show, it’ll be fine. You’re acting like I’m some kind of delicate petal that can’t take it. I’ve been there. Seen worse than anything your parents can dish out.”
“True, but you don’t know them,” I press.
“No, I don’t,” she answers, her stare resolute, breathtaking. “But I know you, and that’s all that matters.”
I’m about to respond when a peppy voice zips through the air, interrupting our conversation. “Someone needs to get a room.”
My attention darts from Amber’s to the source. A petite pixie blonde with glittering blue eyes and cherry-red lips. My sister, Brittany. I can’t help but smile. After Brandon was taken, and I became the target of my mother’s hourly hostility and my father’s daily put-downs, Brittany kept me hanging on, kept me from murdering someone until I got my own place.
“You gonna buy me a drink or what?” Brittany asks, sauntering in our direction.
My sister defines “spitfire.” She makes up for her small frame with a ton of personality and quick wit. A chuckle flips from my mouth as Amber moves off my lap, slipping into the seat next to mine. I watch as Amber studies Brittany, who happens to be dressed as if she owned the hotel. My sister’s what most girls would call a fashionista. She wears nothing but designer threads and rarely, if ever, leaves the house without being done up. The total opposite of my Amber, my angel. My vanity-unconcerned gift.
No doubt they’ll hit it off.
“Get over here and buy your own drink.” I shake my head, my smile widening as I motion her our way. “And while you’re at it, buy me a goddamn drink.”
Brit bumps my shoulder, playfulness glinting behind her eyes. “Still not a gentleman, I see.”
I laugh and grasp Amber’s hand. “Brit, this is my girlfriend, Amber. Amber, this is my mouthy, pain-in-the-ass, always-has-to-be-right, can’t-take-no-for-an-answer sister, Brittany.”
Amber smiles, extending her free hand. “It’s good to meet you.”
Instead of taking Amber’s hand, Brit leans in and gives her a hug. “So you’re the girl who’s finally brought a smile to my broody brother’s face.”
“Broody?” Amber asks incredulously. “I haven’t heard that one yet.”
“Let’s not go there,” I mutter, knowing anything, shit included, could fly outta my sister’s mouth. I toss back the rest of my drink and order another, including a round for the two gems in my life. Dealing with some of the finest scum on earth has its advantages, getting a fake ID made up for Amber being one of them. “Are they here?” I ask pensively, praying something came up. “Or did we get lucky and they ditched?”
A sigh beats past Brit’s lips. “No such luck. Mom had to run to the bathroom, and Dad’s waiting in the lobby.”
Body stiffening, I inhale a deep breath, trying to quell the stabbing sensation tearing through my gut. It doesn’t work.
Brittany looks at me, pathetic sympathy hopping across her features. “Don’t stress, bro. Mom wasn’t that bad when I picked her up. Both seemed to be in a . . . decent mood.”
For a million reasons, that doesn’t lend me a shred of comfort. When it comes to Debby and John Cunningham, guarantees don’t exist. One minute things are cool and the next it’s fucking raining fire in the form of word bullets. Silence mantles the air as we all sip our drinks, prepping ourselves for a long night.
“Thanks for coming, Brittany,” Amber pipes up, breaking the tension.
“Yeah, of course.” She nudges my shoulder, a smirk painting her face. “I couldn’t leave this one on his own, especially with our parents. He’d shit his pants.”
I chuckle, thankful I have Brit. We don’t see each other often, but when we do it’s always easy. We share a connection, a true understanding. She gets the guilt I carry over our brother’s disappearance. She doesn’t agree with it, but she doesn’t fight me on it either. She knows it’s something I have to make peace with on my own. If ever.
“We should probably go,” Amber says, pointing to the time on the big screen. “They’ll all be waiting in the lobby by now.”
Defenses flaring, I stand and slam the rest of my drink back, hating my parents for actually showing up as I chuck a few Benjamins on the bar.
Amber throws her arm around my shoulder, her boner-inducing whisper filled with challenge as she leans into my ear. “Quit being a pussy. Let’s get this over with so you can fuck my brains out when we get back to your place. Sound good?”
Gotta love a bad girl.
I weave my fingers through her hair, shifting her face to mine. “Be careful, Ber, you’re testing my restraint.” I smirk and watch a swallow work the slender column of her throat, her breath catching as I press my lips to her ear, making sure Brit can’t hear. “You keep that up, and I’ll be doing a lot more than fucking that sweet pussy. I’ll light up that pretty ass.”
Her eyes flare with arousal, a flush coloring her cheeks as she pushes me away. A laugh rolls from my chest as I slap the sexy ass I just threatened. The sexy ass I will teach a lesson to later.
Brit shakes her head, and we move into the lobby, my gaze connecting with Cathy and Mark, who are seated on a sofa, waiting. I tense in anticipation. I’m almost afraid to look for my parents, but after a quick scan of the area I find them standing on the opposite side of the room, their arms crossed in aggravated impatience.
Brit turns to us. “I’m gonna go grab the nutters.”
I nod and we make our way over to Amber’s foster parents. Cathy spots us and jolts up, a smile beaming on her face.
“You guys ready to go?” Amber asks, glancing across the room at my family.
“Yes, I’m starving,” Cathy chirps, grabbing her purse off the floor.
Blood rushing to my head, my muscles tighten. My mother’s attention is aimed in my direction. However, I can’t tell if she’s staring at me, at Amber, or off into fucking space. Black Jackie Kennedy–style sunglasses frame her face, obstructing me from being able to decipher who she’s looking at. My defenses surge, my heart rocking my limbs as my fists involuntarily clench at my sides. The sunglasses are a bad omen. End of story: she’s halfway to lit up, a few more sips of alcohol sending her into the beyond-tanked zone.
My father and mother make for us, my sister following a step behind as they approach. I square my shoulders, a strained smile slipping across my face. “Hey, Dad. Thanks for coming.”
My father grips my hand in a firm shake, his expression stoic as always. “Good to see you, son.”
I glance at my mother, forcing my words. “Mom, you look . . . well.”
She tips her head in acknowledgment, not a single response directed at me.
Releasing a taut breath, I shift my attention to Amber and her family. “Cathy, Mark, and Amber, these are my parents
, John and Debby.”
After formal bullshit’s exchanged, Amber’s eyes dance over mine, a small smile tumbling across her expression as she clasps my hand in hers. That tiny gesture alone is all the comfort I need to keep a calm façade. I pull her closer and press a kiss to the crown of her head, breathing her scent deep into my lungs. God, she centers me, brings me down a notch. This girl keeps my world in check and she doesn’t even know it.
“You need another drink, Mr. Tough Jock-head?” Amber asks, her voice pitched low.
Her sass has me grinning, but I quickly sober up, making sure she knows what she’s causing for herself. “Keep going,” I whisper, catching her lobe between my teeth. “You better be ready for later. Payback, baby doll. That’s all this jock’s sayin’.”
Giggling, she winks and turns to my sister. “You know you have to spill some of Brock’s dirty secrets. I need something to hold over his arrogant head.”
“That can be arranged.” Brit laughs, amusement spiking her brows. “I have loads of dirt on this pretty boy.”
I shake my head, a feeling I can’t describe pouncing in my chest as I watch my girl chatting with Brit. My world tilts, rights itself. God, Amber fucking Moretti is officially filtering herself into the chaotic strands of my life. I’ve never allowed a woman to get this close to me. Not because I haven’t had the opportunity, because I have. But more so because I’ve never found the right girl, the one who’ll accept me as I am. With Amber it’s been a burst of light from the moment I saw her.
I shift my gaze to my mother and release another nervous breath, taking a step toward her. My father’s chatting with Cathy and Mark, and Amber with Brittany, so this is a good time to, hopefully, start the evening off right.
“How’ve ya been, Ma?” I ask, once at her side.
Face devoid of emotion, she glances at me, then back to her iPhone. “I’m good. You?”
“Doing great,” I murmur. “School’s going good; football too.”
Jesus, she reduces me to a babbling five-year-old. I loathe the need that saturates me to make her happy. Why I continue to try I’ll never know. It’s an illusion that’ll never fucking happen. I’ll never meet her expectations.
“That’s great, Brock. I’m glad your life is going so well. Someone’s in this family should.” Her voice is tinged with pain. The burning kind that never dissipates. The kind she douses in buckets of liquor to numb herself with.
“I’d love to see you more,” I say, discomfort knotting my throat. “Maybe I can take you out for breakfast this week?”
Fuck me. I’m losing it. I gun a shaky hand through my hair, chastising myself for being such a pussy. I’m a grown man who doesn’t need his mother’s approval. Reining in my features to appear carefree, I smile nonchalantly.
She looks at me, her mouth thinning in thought. Her bitter presence penetrates the air, yanking the oxygen from my lungs. Christ, I wish I could rip those sunglasses off her face and see what’s really hiding beneath her stare. Is it thick resentment, festering like a rancid sore? Or just pure hatred? This is what eats at me, the unknown of just how much she detests the man I’ve become. The man who, in her eyes, will always be the culprit behind Brandon’s kidnapping.
“I need to check my schedule,” she responds after a short pause.
“Right,” I murmur, knowing she’s blowing me off. Whatever. Fuck her and the blame she’ll forever tag me with, the blame I placed on myself long before she did.
“You booked the reservation for seven, correct, Brock?” My father’s voice breaks me from my and my helpless mother’s unrepairable relationship.
I glance at my watch. “Yeah.”
“Let’s head out, then,” he says. “I reserved a limo for the adults. It should be outside by now.” He swings his attention to Amber’s foster parents. “Cathy and Mark, you can ride with us. Brock, you can drive with Brittany and Amber.”
Typical John Cunningham—take charge and direct, a man who doesn’t allow others to make their own decisions. A cheating prick who always has to have a say in everything, even if it’s a limo ride reserved for adults.
“I’m taking my own car,” Brit says, her voice strong, unmoving. “I have work to do after this.”
My father nods, his eyes flashing with disapproval. He doesn’t like that she’s overstepping his order, but he’d never argue in front of people. Unlike my mother, my father’s aware of society’s perceptions of what the perfect family should look like, how it should smell, talk, and sound. “All right. Brock and Amber can meet us there. Brittany, you follow behind. Let’s go. There’s nothing worse than being late.”
Amber’s brows raise, an are we not considered adults? confused look pestering her face. I can tell she wants to speak up, her brain working the situation as her grip on my hand turns fierce, protective. Though I’m sure she’s mulling over saying something nasty yet flavored with the right amount of politeness to my father, she stays quiet, her jaw tightening as she aims a pretty smile in his direction.
Cathy does one of those girly eep things, completely oblivious to the turmoil churning in the air. “This should be fun. I’ve never been in a limo before.”
“Come again?” my mother asks, shock rocking her tone.
“A limo, we’ve never been in one.” Cathy’s voice is warm, her eyes alight with excitement as she tilts her head toward Mark. “Not even on our wedding day. The funds just weren’t there.”
My mother’s mouth drops agape, but my father shoots her a warning stare, silencing whatever judgmental sludge is about to drip from it. She huffs, going back to whatever the fuck it is she’s doing on her phone.
Amber clears her throat. “All right, so we’ll see you there, then?”
“Sounds good, sweetie.” Cathy grins. “This’ll be a treat for us.”
My chest burns at the way she converses with Amber. It’s clear to see how much she loves my girl. Loves her like she’s her own flesh and blood. She looks at her with such a tender expression, my stomach flips, doing somersaults. This evening’s already throwing me off my game, and it’s just begun. Something’s telling me it’s gonna take one of Amber’s expert blow jobs and at least a pound’s worth of green to recover from this shit.
“Awesome,” Ambers says, her voice a thin, uneasy stroke as she hugs Cathy and Mark good-bye.
As Brit and both sets of parents make their way out of the lobby, I tangle my fingers through Amber’s, squeezing her hand in a display of gratitude, a silent thank-you for putting up with the freak sideshow that is my life. I’m as hesitant of this situation as she’s become, my hackles raising with every beat of my heart. But I know I need to man up and give her some form of reassurance. She lets out a breath, stress flaking the whites of her eyes. I take the opportunity to pull her close and wrap my arms around her waist, trying with everything in me to kill the anxiety spitting through her veins. After a few quiet seconds, I release her from my hold and we move outside to wait on my Hummer, my nerves unleashing their torrent on my muscles—tightening each one like a virgin’s pussy—as the valet pulls up.
I tip the kid and hop inside my Hummer, the majority of the ride spent silent as the lights heading north on 695 taunt my vision with every wordless breath Amber and I consume.
“Your parents seem . . . nice,” Amber finally says, her lips two taut, downward frowns as she spreads a thin layer of glittery pink gloss along the heavenly gifts. “Good people.”
“I’m glad you think so.” I chuckle, entertained by how she so easily tells a lie. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought we were siblings—our father’s acts of promiscuity the result of us sharing the same fucked-up genetic makeup. We’re both liars, two twisted souls cheating our way through the death maze of truth. Amber mentioned having a half brother she’s never met. Shit, for all I know I’m him, our chance meeting the dude upstairs’ way of saying, No, motherfucker. I am th
e one who holds the bolts in the train wreck of your future, the almighty pimp of your destiny. Never forget that, dickwad.
I flick my attention back to Amber, my eyes drowning in her self-conscious beauty as she drops her gloss into her clutch. “You might be good at stealing my heart, but ya need to work on thieving my intellect. You’re full of shit, Ber. I know it, you know it—my parents are assholes. End of story.”
“Okay. You caught me. They’re as close to douche as you can get.” She grins, playfully swatting my arm. “But I’ve never met a boy’s parents before, so this is still big for me.”
“A boy?” I grunt, knowing she’s purposely trying to flip the sour mood in her sexual favor. “I thought I’d shown you, on more than one occasion, I’m all man, baby girl.”
She laughs, mischief shimmying across her face as her fingers skirt around the shell of my ear. “Am I bruising your ego?”
I smirk, loving how she knows me so well. “I think you need a good spanking.”
“I’m not opposed to that very thing,” she fires back, branding my cheek with one of her kisses before leaning back in her seat.
I laugh, then sober for a minute. “Thanks for being here with me.”
“You’re the one that let this happen,” she says softly, sincerity streaming from her words.
Something takes over—a tug in my gut, screaming out that I have to make this girl understand how much I need her with me. “I want you in every part of my life, Amber.”
She angles her body toward mine. “I want to be there too, Brock. I need to know this side of you.”
“Even if it’s ugly?” I whisper.
“Especially if it’s ugly,” she says, her gaze tender. “You know my ugly parts, yet here you are.”
Jesus. I’m falling for her so fast—almost too fast, and there’s no stopping the forward momentum. “Nothing you could ever do or say would scare me away.”
“I’ve never felt happy before,” she whispers, her honesty bridging the space between us. “But with you, I think I can be.”
My heart stills, my eyes drifting over the vulnerability lining her face. She’s giving me a glimpse inside her soul, exposing a piece of herself she rarely does. Hell, if it takes bringing her to meet my insane parents to admit that I could make her as happy as she does me, I’ll do it a million times over.
