Take (Need #2)

by K. I. Lynn

  That makes her laugh more and nod in agreement. “Very true.” She stands up and stretches. “I’m going to go change, then work on dinner.”

  I wave at her and pick up the remote to restart my horror fest, but she turns back around.

  “Oh, do you still have my earrings? I can’t find them.”

  Oh, yeah, I wore her diamond earrings to prom. “Probably.”

  “Can you get them?” She gives me an almost sad smile. “Your dad gave them to me.”

  I nod, popping up from the couch and make my way up to my room, not wasting any time. The few things we have left from my dad are precious, especially to my mom. I know she still loves him and misses him, despite remarrying.

  Steve can’t compare.

  Mom’s earrings are somewhere in my jewelry box. I took them off after prom, but forgot to give them back to her. I flip the wooden lid open and stare down. Sometime soon, I really need to go through this chaos. It’s a tangled mess of shiny.

  Every piece of jewelry I’ve ever owned is in here, and somewhere is my dad’s ID bracelet. Ryan still wears his watch and keeps his money clip, with the same initials, somewhere safe.

  It’s been a long time since I’ve thought about him, my dad. I was so young when he died. The memories I have are faded, and some I’m not sure are even real or if they’re made up by a little girl who was desperate to cling to her daddy. His photo sits on my dresser, and another with the whole family is on my desk.

  Mom says Ryan’s personality is a lot like Dad’s.

  She wore his wedding band on a chain for years. It was such a staple in her wardrobe, but I don’t remember when she stopped.

  Under a pile of knotted chains are the two white dots I’ve been searching for. I pluck them up, and sitting right beside them is my dad’s bracelet.

  I pull it out and rub my thumb over the letters, slowly covering and exposing his name—Robert Roth. Mom bought it for him for his birthday when they were still dating. He wore it every day.

  Pictures and a few tokens—that’s all we have left of him. And since moving to Ohio, we rarely get to see his side of the family.

  Something else catches my eye in the box. Small pink beads and sequins. A flower-like shape.

  A ring.

  It was one of those cheap rings from a quarter toy dispenser.

  It throws me back almost a decade. Me, Ryan, and Brayden rode our bikes down to the store. The boys were given a few bucks to pick up some snacks.

  I was nine, and they were my whole world.

  On our way out, I stopped to look at the machines. I didn’t have any money, and I remember begging Ryan for some.

  That’s when Brayden came up behind me. He put a quarter into one of them and turned the knob. Out popped a plastic bubble case. He pulled it out and opened it up, taking the ring out.

  I still remember how he smiled at me. The way he reached for my hand and slipped it onto my ring finger.

  “Another pretty for the mermaid chest.”

  I smiled at him. “You mean another pretty for the kraken to steal from me, jerk.”

  He shrugged. “Krakens like pretty things.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah.” He nodded with certainty.

  I eyed him. “Am I pretty?”

  “I like you, don’t I?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do I like you most of all?”

  “You like Ryan most of all.”

  He chuckled. “Well, he’s a guy, and they aren’t pretty.”

  “Okay . . .”

  “So, if I like you most of all, you must be prettiest of all.”

  I could feel my cheeks heating up, and I ducked my head before swatting him in the stomach. “Suckup.”

  It felt like my heart was going to beat out of my chest. Is it any wonder I fell in love with him?

  I set it back down, then pick up the earrings and head out into the hall. A couple of steps in toward their room, I stop dead in my tracks.

  “You’re going out?”

  “Yes. I’m meeting the guys to watch the Reds game,” Steven says.

  “Do you have to?” There’s a sort of defeat in her voice that I don’t like hearing.

  “Is there a reason not to?”

  “The garage door is still acting up. I was hoping you could fix it tonight.” Defeat quickly turns to annoyance.

  I don’t know why I’m not moving, why I’m still standing feet outside their door.

  “I told you I’d get to it.”

  “You’ve been saying that for weeks! I’m tired of not being able to use the garage.”

  “I’ve been busy, Sonia.” Steven’s voice rises, an edge to it.

  “You’ve been busy for weeks! Every time I ask you to do something, I have to ask you again over and over and over for days for something that would take you five minutes if you would just do it!”

  She’s repeating words and talking fast—Mom’s sign for very annoyed.

  “Then why don’t you do it?”

  “Because I’m not your maid, I’m your wife! And I expect that you care enough and respect me enough to help out around here.”

  He lets out a harsh laugh. “Who pays all the bills around here? I do. Which means the house is yours to take care of.”

  What. The. Fuck?

  My fingers curl up into my palm, nails digging in. I’m two seconds from bursting through their bedroom door and punching my stepdad.

  How could he?

  “Are you kidding me? You were the one who wanted to do that. Said you wanted to take away some of my stress. I had no problem taking care of my children and paying my bills before you came along.”

  “What is really going on, Sonia?” he asks with a huff.

  “You aren’t taking me out anymore, are you taking someone else out? Are you fucking another woman?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous!”

  “Don’t be? Something’s changed, Steven, and don’t forget, you cheated on your last wife with me. I know the signs.”

  “This conversation is absurd.” Steven’s voice grows louder, like he’s closer to the door. “I’m going out with Tim and John. I’ll be back later. Enough of these bullshit accusations, Sonia.”

  The door pops open, and so do my eyes. He stomps out and glances my way, jumping a bit.

  “Shit.” He looks back to the door where I can hear my mother trying to stifle her cries, then eyes me up and down. “What?”

  I say nothing, do nothing, though I want to. We’ve never gotten much past pleasantries, even after living in his house for three years.

  He gives a little huff and makes his way down the stairs.

  Halfway down, I step to the edge and yell, “I get it now.”

  He stops and turns back, looking up at me. “Get what?”

  I stick my chin out and glare down at him. “Why he hates you so much.”

  “You know, Kira, I used to think you were a good girl,” he pauses, lip twisting up to a sneer, “but you’re just another girl competing for his attention, aren’t you?”

  I let out a gasp, then freeze.

  “You said you were going, so leave, Steven!” Mom yells from behind me. I jump, unaware she’s there.

  He looks between us, then finishes his descent.

  “I’m sorry, sweetie,” Mom says, wrapping her arms around me.

  “Why are you with that asshole?” I ask.

  She pulls back, her lips set in a straight line, brow knitted together. It’s her “I don’t know look.”

  I slip the earrings into her palm and head back to my room, leaning on the door as it closes.

  Once upon a time, Steve was right—I was a girl vying for Brayden. Now?

  The beaded ring is still sitting on my dresser, looking at me. Times were easier then, and I almost wish I could go back to that innocence.

  I’ve got my phone in my hand and I’m texting before I even realize it.

  How did you live with the fighting?

  It’s a ques
tion I’ve wondered for years, and an answer I partially know. But it’s also a question I don’t notice I’ve actually texted to Brayden until he responds.

  I had no choice.

  No choice.

  It’s true. For him, it started when he was young, too young to understand.

  But I remember when he was fourteen, when we ran away one night. He’d lived with it for years, the fighting, and I watched it beat him down and tear him apart. Shaped him, hardened him.

  I remember, but I’d forgotten and I never, ever went through it until today.

  Hot tears slide down my cheeks as I wonder what it was like for a little boy to go through that and worse.

  I’m so sorry, baby. You shouldn’t have to go through that. Ever.

  No one should.

  You did.

  His response leaves me cold inside. I’ll kill him if he keeps putting you through that.

  He’s always threatening to kill people because of me. Anyone else would be scared. I find it sweet, actually, despite the fact that I worry what would happen to him if he went through with it.

  I guess that just shows how off we both are. We’re slightly twisted. I think we both always have been in a way. We’re not normal. Not by a long shot.

  Fuck, that connection between us.

  There’s no denying it—it’s still here. The broken pieces of us that bonded and brought us together aren’t going anywhere.

  I miss my best friend. I always, always miss him.

  And I can’t have him back. Because I won’t allow myself to.

  Brayden sends me another text. Promise me you’ll call me if it gets too bad over there.

  My heart breaks.

  I won’t promise him that. There’s no going back for me. I can’t return to that place of soul-sick dependence. Not after all the times he brutally left me hanging. I text him back, feeling nauseous. I know he’s offering his help and that it’s coming from a good place, but I still have to shoot him down.

  Don’t worry about this. I’ve got this. Thanks anyway.

  July 19, 2015

  I. Am. A. Whore.

  The realization does nothing to calm me.

  I’d always known I was horny. My entire life, the promise of sex had taunted me. I lived every moment waiting to experience passion.

  This isn’t passion. This is a sickness. A straight-up plague of epic proportions.

  How many damn times do I need to have a dick before I actually start getting tired of it?

  I can’t stop looking. My God, those red swim trunks were made to obliterate my clit.

  Correction: you are a whore for one man only.

  Ugh, don’t remind me.

  Why can’t I react like this to another man’s dick?

  Noooo. It’s all about this one. It’s always about this one.

  Holy. Fucking. Shit.

  It’s twitching for me. Hardening right before my eyes.

  Hunger.

  Madness.

  The existence of this man pisses me off so much.

  I bite my lip and press my thighs together, feeling like I haven’t had it in centuries. Fucking centuries.

  “Kitty, are you wearing that to kill me? Your tits look fucking amazing in that bikini.”

  Blindly, I reach behind me, clutching at the kitchen island. “You’re the one that wanted to hang out. In the pool.” Why did I freaking agree to this again?

  Oh yeah. He came over. My bedroom door was open. He left his open while he changed. I almost died as I watched. He came out of his room, nothing but those red swim trunks gracing his muscular, tattooed body, and asked me if I wanted to hang out in the pool with him.

  When I agreed, he told me he’d meet me downstairs and gave me one last, hungry look before walking away from my door.

  Viola. Kira changed at the speed of light.

  To be fair, I think it’s clear that my pussy took complete control. Shit, I don’t even remember which bathing suit I picked out, but clearly it was picked out on purpose.

  Brayden’s standing at the door leading to the backyard, his smoldering eyes locked on my chest. He reaches down and adjusts his now fully hard dick, and I die a little more inside. “Get out here, baby. Before I decide to fuck you up on that island.”

  I barely check the urge to jump up on it and spread my legs wide. “After you.”

  With a deep sigh, he turns and heads out into the backyard. It’s night out. I don’t even know why he wants to go for a swim in the pool, but there’s no denying it—as I follow him, all I can think about is him fucking me in that pool.

  The sky still holds a few colors from the setting sun, but the darkness is setting in.

  The pool glows in the backyard, thanks to the pool light. I expect him to head straight for the diving board; he doesn’t. Heading straight for the pool’s edge, he looks back at me before stepping off the ledge. He lands inside the waist-deep water, seemingly unfazed by how cool it is.

  He drops down into the water, then rises back up, smoothing his wet hair back. The pool’s light reflects off his wet body, fucking with me.

  No man should be that sexy.

  A man like that isn’t meant to belong to just one woman.

  There will always be too many offers. Too many options.

  Even if I could forgive, even if I wanted to keep him, I never could. Not without inviting a buttload of misery into my life.

  And there goes my mood.

  Scowling, I walk to the edge of the pool slowly, second-guessing my decision to hang out with him the entire time.

  He blatantly eye-fucks me with every step I take.

  Doing my best to ignore him, I follow his lead and drop into the pool. I’m much shorter than him, so the water goes all the way up to my breasts. My nipples harden immediately.

  Brayden licks his lips.

  I glare at him. “All right. I’m in here. Now what?” I’m not hoping he lunges at me and presses me against the side of the pool. No, not at all.

  He motions with his head to the steps a few feet away from us. There are four small stone benches built into the steps.

  I follow him and sit down. He sits next to me, and leans back to brace his arms against the side of the pool. The move stretches out his upper body, enhancing every dip and curve, and I nearly go blind.

  How the fuck am I supposed to get over him when he attracts me this much?

  We sit in silence for a few minutes. He seems to be contemplating something.

  I grow impatient. “Is this your idea of hanging out?”

  A smirk tugs the corner of his lips, but he doesn’t look at me yet. “You’re never going to learn patience, are you, Kitty?”

  “Don’t make me regret agreeing to hang with you. Besides, you’re one to talk about patience.”

  Laughing, he turns to face me fully. “Baby, I’ll be the first one to admit that I’m seriously lacking in that department.”

  The nickname earns him yet another glare, and my cheeks heat up.

  His smile widens, like he knows what I’m thinking.

  No, what I’m remembering.

  I still can’t believe I called him baby.

  And his reaction. Dear. God. His reaction.

  I can’t think about this right now. Remembering how we fucked each other behind that bar is the last thing I need to do.

  Brayden’s smile drops and my stomach along with it. He looks apprehensive. Like what he’s about to say next is going to be the very last thing I want to hear. “I want to ask you something.”

  Yup, heading in a bad direction already. Shifting on the bench, I ask, “What?”

  “First off, let me tell you that no matter what your answer to my question is, I’m not going to be mad at you.”

  Okay?

  “I just can’t stop myself from asking because . . .”

  I raise my eyebrows. “Because?”

  His jaw twitches. That ever-present pain floods his eyes as he focuses fully on me. “I’m sick from not knowing.�
��

  Life would be so much easier if his pain didn’t affect me. If it didn’t make me hurt equally as bad. “What do you want to know?”

  “Did you leave the bar with Austin the other night?”

  I’d had a feeling he’d seen Austin follow me out. He’s been a bit distant, which should please me, but doesn’t. My first thought is to deny him an answer and let him know it’s none of his business.

  Surprisingly, I can’t do that. The urges to hurt Brayden are hitting me less and less lately. I’m still hurt and angry at him, but it’s not the same anymore.

  “I didn’t leave with him.” I can’t stand the way his expression melts with relief. It makes me want to curl into his lap and hug him. “Is that the only reason you wanted to hang?” To interrogate me?

  “No. Besides wanting to spend time with you, I want to see how you’re doing.”

  “Meaning?”

  He sighs. “Is the fighting still bad, baby?”

  Oh. That. I shrug, staring down into the water. “I think your dad’s cheating on my mom.”

  “I got the same feeling.”

  My head shoots up. Anger sends my heart into a tailspin. Hearing Steven’s son confirming my suspicions only makes them seem that much more true. “I think I’ll kill him if he is cheating on her.”

  Brayden nods. “I think I’d help you. It would make what he did to my mom that much more pointless. If he was going to break her, the least he could’ve done was do it for a woman he truly loved.” He realizes what he just said too late, his eyes widening and pupils expanding.

  The irony of his statement hurts too much to contemplate on. After all, he once ruined me for a woman he claims to have had no feelings for.

  Actually, there were a whole lot of women he supposedly felt nothing for.

  I decide to ignore the awkwardness and pain between us. “What makes you say that?”

  “The signs are all there, Kira. And, apparently, your mom is picking up on them.”

  “How do you see them if you aren’t even living here anymore? You’ve hardly seen them together.”

  He scratches his chin, then nods. “I remember what they were like before the cheating. Or, before Mom found out about the cheating. Sonia wasn’t the first and she won’t be the last because that’s who he is. He doesn’t do love.”