Another ping rings out, and I rush to get my cell from where it lays. Luckily, it’s not cracked or broken. I chucked the sucker pretty far.
Leia. Don’t tell anyone. No need to kill the boy over your ignorance. “Goddammit!” My scream echoes in my empty apartment, reminding me the one person who’d make everything better is nowhere to be found.
There goes me telling Sinthe. I don’t respond. Instead, I dress for work, praying to not fuck up everything.
“Did you hear? Brax got into it bad with Tombstone,” Pilar chats with the other Vipers while I eavesdrop. I stop cleaning as soon as I hear his name.
“He nearly put the guy in the hospital,” someone else adds.
“Why’d he do that?” Atticus mutters, his normal voice void of emotion, but you can tell he cares. Brax has grown on everyone. “Not that Chefski doesn’t deserve it. Dude’s a dick, but you know Venom. He doesn’t tolerate fighting amongst the brothers.”
“He did it for the boy,” Vex pipes in.
That’s when I look directly at her. Vex is the only female Viper. She’s not supposed to be one. She has a vagina for one, but her gramps, along with Tall Boy and Drifter’s dad, started this brotherhood. They gave her a cut, but she’ll never truly be one of them.
Her eyes flash to mine, knowing that I’m listening in. She and I haven’t really had a bonding relationship. She’s more of a Brax kind of girl.
“You know, the one he’s protecting by doing his first job in benefit of him,” she adds, giving me a you heard me right look.
Her response has me walking toward the group.
Atticus is the first to appear apologetic. His eyes are sadder than his usual apathetic ones, and what little skin of his forehead I can see, he’s regretting his actions. I’m sorry, his lips silently move at me. I wish I could remove his mask, see the man hiding beneath its depths. He stands up, tipping my chin with his forefinger. “Don’t freak out.”
It’s a near silent plea, but it’s one I’ll take to heart. What I won’t do is play pussycat. One thing you learn being raised by bikers is that you don’t let any bitch push you around, especially when it’s just as much your home as hers.
Nodding anyway, I sidestep him, looking directly at Vex. “Got something to say, princess?” I condescend, knowing how much she hates being called that since she’s anything but prissy. She’s more like a combatant with an AR than a girl in a frilly dress. She’s malevolent while I’m amiable. She’s oil, and I’m goddamn water. I don’t hold grudges, and I’m unsure why she hates me. It’s more than likely because I’m everyone’s girl. They all practically raised me, and she was kept in the dark for years.
“Nah, darlin’. You’re a waste of air. Don’t even understand why he spends it on you,” she grinds out, giving me a pointed look.
Don’t roll your eyes.
Don’t roll your eyes.
Don’t roll your eyes.
But I do.
It’s slow and piercing, but I roll my eyes so hard I’m sure I can see the back of my head. Now, she’s just being a twat. There’s no basis for her rudeness, and there sure as hell is no cause.
“Well, sorry to inform you, darlin’,” I snipe, moving forward until we’re face-to-face. “But a lot of these bikers would love to waste their air on me.”
She glares, her eyes turning into the thinnest slits, but she shuts up. Her anger shows as she throws the barstool backward, shuffling toward the door.
In turn, I blow her a kiss. “Nice talking to you, Tessy.”
She flips me the bird, and I laugh.
“You shouldn’t do that,” Pilar sounds out next to me.
“She shouldn’t be a cunt for no reason either, yet here we are.”
“It’s your funeral, kid.”
“Guess I better wear black then,” I deadpan.
Pilar laughs and then starts prepping for the night, but it gnaws at me, the reason Brax has been gone. The reason he hasn’t been around. It’s Brady. I know it.
As the night crowd comes in, and eleven comes and goes, Pilar and I are drinking tequila shots behind the counter when my phone goes off. Hoping it’s Brax to update me about where the hell he’s been, I check it. Usually, it’s a no cell phone area since we’re not exactly in the best part of Cape Hill, and distractions can easily lead to unfortunate events.
Come home ASAP.
The message is from Mamá. She never wants me to visit this late, let alone this urgently. It must be important.
“Pilar,” I sound out, hoping nothing has happened. She can’t hear me over the music, or maybe it’s from her flirting with the guy nearly kissing her. Timing is never great, but it’s too important. I tap her several times. “Hey!”
She turns to me, a frown marring her face. “What?”
“Mamá texted me. She told me to come home asap.” My voice is panicked. Even with the loud music booming, I can tell.
Her eyes bulge a little. She knows Mamá. She understands what it means if she needs me. “Go. I’ll cover for you. Let me know if she’s okay.”
Nodding, I pull off my waist apron, count my tips, and then head out. It doesn’t take too long to get to my family home. It’s not nearly far enough away.
When I park, I feel this sense of anxiety. It’s been awhile since I’ve been here. Not just to see Mamá but also in regards of Sy being back, if he was even gone to begin with. Do I knock? Do I use my key?
What’s the protocol for coming back to your home especially if it’s an emergency?
Trying not to dwell on it, I get out of my car, lock it, and head to the front door. Just like before, it’s empty of familiarity. Almost as if I didn’t grow up here. In reality, I didn’t. I was raised everywhere but here. This is simply an existing structure. Hollow. Broken. Destitute. It doesn’t house love or family or anything of value. It’s a dwelling of lost dreams and the end of hope. It’s lackluster, without livelihood. It doesn’t have what makes a home a home.
The scent of hibiscus infiltrates my nose, nostalgia hitting me hard in return. There aren’t many good memories, but the ones this smell conjures deal with a man who showed me what it’s like to love.
“Ah, the hibiscus,” Sy sounds out, watching me finger the soft petals of pink and white.
They’ve always intrigued me, the beauty forthcoming and immediate. Hibiscus flowers catch everyone’s attention with their vibrant colors and succulent scent.
“They’re breathtaking,” I comment.
“Si, mi corazoncito. Asombroso.” Yes, my little heart. Amazing. He says the last word slowly. His feet make the lightest tap on the pavement as he comes from behind me. His arm drapes over my own, touching the flower lightly as I still cradle it in my palm. “Did you know the hibiscus is known to be given to women who were appreciated for their delicate beauty? A man who wanted a woman, whether to court or marry, would oftentimes give them the flower in hope they’d know their interest.”
I have no words. I wasn’t aware of this. What is he trying to say?
He plucks the pinkest flower, the one nestled in my hands, and brings it to his nose. His nostrils flare as he indulges in the scents this tropical flower offers.
His other hand pulls a loose strand of my hair from the front of my face, holding it between his fingers with the barest of touches. Then, as I believe he’ll walk away as he does so often, he surprises me. He clasps the flower and tucks it, along with the strand of hair, behind my ear. My skin flames when he skims the tip of my earlobe, making me shiver.
“Admiro tu belleza,” he whispers as he bends near my throat. “Siempre.”
I admire your beauty. Always.
The sound of the locks turning brings me back to reality, letting me know someone is on the other side of the door. Bracing myself for the worst, I stiffen my spine, hoping for normal Latina dramatism from Mamá.
The knob doesn’t rotate. The silence on both sides has me antsy. Taking in a deep breath, I knock, deciding not to walk in.
As th
e click of the door rings out, I’m again filled with nerves. What am I waiting for?
It opens, and I’m dragged inside. The door is shut behind me, and I’m placed against it roughly.
“What the hell?” I growl.
“What took you so long?”
The deep baritone from a voice I know all too well invades my heart. Silas. He decided to lie to me to get me here? He’s no better than the stupid person behind the threatening messages.
“Why the hell am I here?” I ask gentler, wanting nothing more than to kiss his stupid face and slap him all at the same time.
“Ah, that tongue, mi corazoncito. Such a dirty fucking mouth.”
I hold up a palm, hoping he stops. Yes, I’m supposed to openly be with the man, but I don’t have to give it up easily.
“What do you want, Silas?” I breathe, praying he gets whatever he wants over with. Being in the same home as his wife has me all sorts of messed up.
“What? No hello? No I’ve missed you?” he challenges, cupping my jaw with his bear palms.
The skin contact has me breathing heavily, forcing me to gasp when it travels to my throat, the one place that’s always been his and his alone.
“N-no,” I say breathlessly, hating his effect on me.
“Ah, but, mi cielo, I can feel how much you’ve missed me. I bet you’re even wet for me.”
I shake my head, adamantly denying his words, but he smirks. I have no words for him. It’ll give me away. I hate how weak he makes me.
His hand snakes down my bare midriff, gripping my hip possessively. Then it’s traveling down to unbutton my short shorts. When he slips them off, he’s immediately between my legs. He cups my sex, his face morphing into one of passion and hunger. His head goes backward as if he’s pleasured to feel me in this way.
“Si. So wet for me,” he groans, grinding the heel of his palm into my clit.
“Sy,” I pant. “Stop.”
“Why? Do you not like when I touch you here?” he questions, slipping a finger inside me. I’m speechless as he thrusts it inside and out. Fuck.
“I-I…” I attempt to argue.
“Love when I touch your cunt like this.” He dips a second one in, and I arch in return, making me closer to him.
Shaking my head again, I intend to explain how I feel, but it’s impossible. When I attempt to, my body reacts the opposite way. I try and fall short again when his lips are near my ear. He licks a path from beneath my ear to the top of the lobe, causing me to quake.
“Like this?” He swipes his thumb over my clit several times, and I nearly collapse.
“Sy,” I groan, praying to evade the emotions he wreaks on me.
I want his lips, his mouth, and his tongue against me, in me, and everywhere else. This intense desire to have him touch me fuels me to lean into him. As soon as my lips go to brush his, he stops me.
“Has he fucked you?”
“W-What?” I inquire, sex-hazed.
“Has he fucked you?” he repeats, stopping his ministrations.
“Sy…” I attempt, knowing no matter what I say, he’s not going to like it. He knows. He has to know. He’s been gone for six months, doing God knows what with God knows who.
He pushes my tank up, revealing my belly button ring and bra-clad breasts. “Has his dick been inside your sweet little cunt, mi corazoncito?” he hisses, giving me new sensations to skitter up my spine.
“Yes,” I whimper.
Tears sting my eyes. I don’t know why. There’s nothing wrong with sleeping with your boyfriend or anyone for that matter. Unless that man is Sy… unless that man is your stepdad. Unless that man is the one who tears through your chest, stealing away the one organ you need to survive.
“Then I’ll make sure my cock marks you for good this time, so when you’re back in his arms, pretending you’re in love, it’ll be me you ache for. It’ll be me who’s imprinted inside you,” he rasps, gripping my hips, digging into me with passion. Wetness smears over my skin from his fingers being inside me moments ago.
My lip protrudes as I mull that over. Fucking him again, after we promised not to is not a good idea even if I told the nameless person I’d do it. If I don’t, if I fail to follow through, Brax will pay the price. Brax will be hurt.
“Has he tasted my cunt?” Sy interrupts my thoughts, making heat flick up my throat. “Licked those juices that make my body ravenous?”
“Y-Yes,” I admit on a cry as he tweaks my nipple through my bra.
“You’ve let him have what isn’t his so easily?” he questions, a jealous tinge to his voice, one I’ve craved to hear, yearned to have for six months. Now that it’s finally happened, it feels wrong. He’s not allowed to be jealous.
He left me.
His grip, now on my thigh, tightens, but the only pain I feel is the one surrounding my heart. What did he expect? That I’d wait for him to not be my stepdad? That I’d be only ever his? What a selfish prick. He can’t just think that after he broke my heart and left me in Puerto Rico, I’d magically wish to be his again. No.
“He’s my boyfriend, Sy,” I defend, pulling his hand off me.
“He’s your distraction,” he argues, placing his hand back on my thigh but higher, like it’s his and only his to have there. His hand slowly trails up until he’s at my waist again. His fingers tiptoe to the button ring, toying with it until I’m wiggling. He leans down with a victorious smirk, so smug, so goddamned pleased with himself. Licking my navel, he plays with the piece of jewelry until I’m desperate with need.
I can’t do this.
Brax and I are in a good place… a stable one.
Don’t be that girl, Leia. Not again. Don’t do this to him.
“I love him,” I attempt, my voice faltering on the love portion.
“No, you love the idea of him. The idea of a happily ever after,” he patronizes.
He always knows everything hidden within me, what I’m thinking even when there’s no admitting it to myself.
“I won’t cheat on him, Sy,” I reprimand, once again grabbing his hands and moving them away even when my body begs otherwise.
This tug-of-war between us needs to end. I have to be the strong one and walk the hell away. Yet the evil voice in the back of my head tells me I can’t. Not if I want Brax to be okay.
“How can you cheat on someone who doesn’t own your whole heart? One who doesn’t speak to your soul and make you weak with love’s bitter edge?” His eyes implore, while his voice demands.
He’s waiting on me to argue his point, but I can’t. Instead, I scoff in answer, not giving into this cancerous love. Acid and erosion don’t mix unless the intent is to destroy. That’s always his impulsion, to destroy, to take me away piece by rusty piece.
He pushes his chest into mine, making our oxygen and carbon mix. We’re literally breathing life and death into one another. It’s killing us both slowly, but it’s surely killing me most.
His hand cups my cheek as he caresses with one thumb and steadies my shakiness with the other.
“You’re not in love with him, mi corazoncito. You’re only with him because he’s there for you in a way I can’t be.” He stands up, bringing his hand to my face. Tapping my forehead, he eyes me in a way that confuses me as much as it thrills me. “Deep inside that tragically beautiful mind of yours, you feel you owe him. He’s always stuck by your side for love and loyalty to you. But in those beautiful cielo eyes, I can see you don’t want a lifetime with him, a forever and more, but you fear losing him and that bond, so you stay. I can see it. Can’t you?”
His thumb still slides gently, wiping away stray tears that I didn’t realize were gathering. I hate when he hits the proverbial nail on the head. I love Brax. I do. But Sy’s right. I’m not in love with him the way I should be, not since Sy came back. I held onto Brax because of his goodness, his curing capabilities, his stability and ease. I can fall back into love. I can learn to love him all over again, can make myself eventually want all of that with
him again. I know it.
He’s too good for me.
He deserves more than I can offer.
New tears of hurtful realization well behind my eyes. Reality’s a bitch.
Sy’s fingers grip my chin delicately, his gentleness confusing me. The betrayal of tears burn their way down my cheeks. They’re bitter in their descent but monumental in their knowledge.
His thumbs continue to swipe at them, his wool gray eyes analyzing me with so much care and tenderness. My heart feels like it’s being put through a meat grinder. It aches for this man, for what we can’t and won’t ever have. He’s my idea of perfect, my idea of a happily ever after. Not Brax. Sy always has been, even if it’s the falsest promise my heart could conjure.
But life isn’t fair. He can’t be my happy ending. Fairytales make us bereft with the need for more love and promises and hope, but there’s only cruel reality, bitter right nows, and lost forevers.
Stealing away my heart, I begrudgingly pull away from his comfort. I roll my shirt back down over my stomach and button my shorts back up. Without another word or another glance, I walk out of my childhood home. I no longer belong here in this family, in this home for visits, in this life of fake love and even faker plight.
I can never come back.
I won’t do this to Brax or to myself, not even if this fuck threatens us both. I’ll figure out another way. Brax is my choice. And now I’ll do right by him.
The heat of the stifling Arizona night air hits me like a thousand-degree oven, overwhelming and suffocating me all at once. It’s only then I realize it’s a welcome distraction to the heart I just left in Sy’s palms.
It’s nearly four in the morning when I’m jolted awake by our apartment door slamming. Not that I could call what I was doing sleep. Since he hasn’t been home, I have more time to dwell on what the message said and even more time to stress about where Brax is with Brady and whatever they’re doing.
He wouldn’t cheat though, would he?
He’s not the same Brax from high school or even the same Brax from after graduation. He’s changed since meeting Sinthe, and it’s debatable if it’s even for the better.
Always (Cape Hill Book 3) Page 13
