EASY (The Ferro Family)

by H. M. Ward

  The solitude of it scares me. Maybe that’s why I ask, otherwise, I don’t know what possesses me to suggest it. “Will you hold me for a while? I’m still shivering a little.”

  Chase swallows so hard I can see it in his throat. The Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he silently nods. I slip my hand in his, shut the front door as we pass by, and stop before the ladder.

  I drop his hand and look back at him. “You don’t have to—I feel bad asking. You’ve already done enough. More than I deserve.”

  “Kindness is something to spread. It’s not anything owed or required. I never expected to end the night in your bed. In fact, I shouldn’t go up there.” His brow is wrinkled and his lips press together tightly.

  I nod tightly and swallow hard before forcing a smile. “I understand.” As I turn away from him and grab the lower rung, I feel his hand on my shoulder.

  “I don’t think you do. You seem to think the world is tit for tat. It’s not. If I don’t show you that, then who will? It’s not that I think you should be alone tonight. Under difference circumstances, I’d—”

  I hold onto the rung, staring at the metal bar in my hands. “You’d what?”

  “I’d jump at the chance to sleep with you. You’re my type, Weird Girl. I think you’re incredible, brave, and a little jaded. But you’re not so bitter you can’t laugh, not yet. I see you.”

  A shiver travels up my arms but it has nothing to do with shock this time. Staring at the rung, I say softly, “Bree. My name is Bree.” I can’t tell him who I really am, but I can tell him the name I’ve been going by down here.

  I swear that I can hear him smile behind me. “Thank you, Bree. Maybe one day I’ll discover your whole name, the middle one, too.”

  Smiling at the rungs, I nod. “Maybe.” Glancing over my shoulder, I meet his gaze, adding with a playful smirk, “Maybe not.”

  CHAPTER 9

  THREE DAYS LATER

  L ying in my bed, I stare at the inky sky filled with wide brush strokes of glittering stars. Out of everything I ever wanted to own, to touch—that’s it. The majestic splendor of it leaves me in awe every time I climb up here. There’s nothing that compares to the way lying here in solitude makes me feel.

  Well, that’s not entirely true. That night began with a little ember of a thought that blossomed into a flame that flickers brightest in the dead of night when I’m alone. What if I had someone to share this with? What if Chase had followed me up here? ‘What if’ followed by ‘what if.’

  What if I wasn’t a Ferro.

  What if that night had never happened?

  What if there were a way to move forward without scattering my ashes to the wind?

  Too many questions and not enough answers. I did this to myself. I need to keep reminding myself of that. I’ve been played in the past, but not this time. It was solely my fault, my responsibility. Lizzie is buying me time so I can figure out what happened, because there are still parts I’m missing, things I don’t know. That night doesn’t make sense. It shouldn’t have ended in a pool of blood, but it did.

  I swallow hard and roll over. I’ve not left the house for three days. I called in sick to work so I wouldn’t get fired, but that also means no internet. There’s no way to know if my stalker is going to out me. So I remain hidden, biding time until I can figure out how to approach this mess.

  Lifting my gaze, I peer through the glass once more, wishing I could escape all this and have the freedom I’ve always longed for. To not be a puppet or a pawn or a killer. One could only wish now. It’s too late. And I’m selfish for not running Chase off. Okay, I tried to get rid of him, but he keeps coming around. I should have pulled out a shotgun and threatened him to get off my land. That would have been a clear message.

  Instead, I tell him not to come, but he does and he brings breakfast every morning and dinner every night. He says it’s only this once, that I shouldn’t get used to it, but another day passes and the same scenario repeats. I look forward to that part of the day the most, and consider what it would be like if he came a little earlier or left a little later. Or if we were tangled together? Or if I used him the way I used so many other men and tossed them aside? I’m not the slut my parents believe me to be, but at some point sex detached from love, and I began to doubt that there was such a thing.

  Chase nailed me on that point. I don’t believe two people can fall in love, not anymore. It’s another myth, a fairytale for idealists who haven’t yet lived life. They don’t know how dark it can get, because if they did, they would see the folly in falling for anyone. Love is the fastest way to bring about heartache and demise. The premise is a trick, a trap for the weak and foolish. I cannot afford to be a fool. Never again will I have such a luxury.

  CHAPTER 10

  I hear Chase’s motorcycle before I see him riding down the gravel road toward my house. It’s set back from the road, so the little path looks like it leads nowhere, like so many roads around these parts. Some are there for hunters to use to access blinds, while others are for farm owners to easily cross their property on ATVs. The tiny path that leads to my tiny home is unassuming. It’s not until you round a corner about half a mile back from the road that you see the clearing with the little home.

  Chase cuts the engine and dismounts from his bike. It’s still early and the sky is yet to streak with pink and gold like spilled paint. I watch him tug his full face helmet off and rest it on the seat of the bike before opening the saddle bags to pull out two white sacks with a golden M on the side.

  Perched on my elbows, I wait to watch him stride toward the door. I wonder what he’s thinking, why he’s decided to watch out for me, because that’s the clear impression he’s given. He thinks I’m alone in this world and believes that no one should be so secluded. At least that’s what I tell myself. The other option is that he really does get off on being Tased and is hoping for another jolt.

  I snort a laugh, watching from the thin upper window of the house. Chase runs his hand through his dark hair as he turns toward the door. Two steps in and he glances up before he sees me. I go rigid and feel my face catch fire before slinking down out of the window, feeling sheepish. I tug on an oversized sweatshirt over my bra and panties, before descending the rungs.

  Padding toward the door, I yank it open already saying, “I wasn’t watching you, so you can stop smirking like you’re God’s gift.”

  His smirk only gets bigger. He hands me a bag and keeps the other for himself. “Whatever you say, Bree.” He unfolds the tiny table that folds into the wall and then slips into the seat he staked out a few days ago. “Besides, I can’t fault you if you like what you see.” He unwraps his sandwich without looking up at me.

  I grab the only chair in the house and plop down my bag of food on the table. When I sit, my shirt rises a little and covers my upper thighs, but I still have to pay attention to how I move and not bend over. I don’t want him to think I’m easy. For once, that reputation isn’t here and I don’t want it to return. Not with him.

  His gaze drops to my thigh and the long stretch of pale skin that connects somewhere under the giant shirt.

  “Hmm, same here.” I lift an eyebrow when he glances at me, startled.

  Chase clears his throat. “Sorry. Leg man. I thought you’d wear pants or shorts or something.” He avoids my gaze for a moment and clears his throat. “I can buy you some.”

  My jaw drops, as does my egg sandwich. “I own pants!”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yes!”

  “So you just don’t wear them, then?” He bites into his breakfast and acts like this is normal breakfast chatter.

  “It’s my house. I can’t run my air conditioning all the time. You’re lucky I have a shirt on at all. It’s hot in here.” I grab the neck of the sweatshirt and tug it, allowing it fall back in place and bringing a nice breeze.

  “That’ll teach me to bring a beautiful woman breakfast, me showing up and finding you naked in bed, ogling me out the window.”


  I frown. Okay, it’s a pout. “I wasn’t naked.”

  He arches a dark brow at me and tips his head my way. “Ah, but you were ogling me. Knew it.”

  “Ass.” I smirk.

  “I know you like it.” He grins before meeting my gaze. “So, what plans do you have today? Besides hiding within the tiniest house in Texas?”

  My stomach twists. I don’t want to go into work and I’m too nervous to venture out. I shouldn’t involve this guy. He needs to go. I turn on bitch mode and sniffle at him. “Nothing that concerns you. By the way, you shouldn’t keep showing up unannounced. I might shoot you one day.”

  “And why would you do that?” He doesn’t take offense and still has that chill banter thing I’m getting attached to.

  Crank it up, Jos. Get rid of him. I lean back in my chair and fold my arms over my chest. “Because I got sick of seeing your ass on my property.”

  Chase leans in and says with a deep bedroom voice, “If that’s what you want, Bree. I’ll leave and never bother you again. Just say it. Look me in the eyes and tell me that’s what you really want.”

  My inner bitch tumbles off her stilettos at the burst of candid honesty. He continues, “I’d like to take you out today, if that’s okay with you. I have the day off and you could use a few laughs. It’s up to you, although I think you should put some pants on before we go. Most of the guys around here aren’t as open-minded as I am.”

  He flicks his blue eyes up and meets mine. Too soon, he turns away, grabs his trash and throws it away. He’s at the door and I still haven’t answered. He pulls it open and my heart sinks. He steps through the threshold and I can’t breathe, my chest is so tight. I shouldn’t speak. Stay silent, Jos. Don’t say it. Let him walk away.

  But I can’t. Just before the door closes behind him, I shout out. “Wait, I’ll put on pants.”

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  CHAPTER 1

  ~AIDEN~

  M y heart slams into my chest like I’m having a fucking heart attack. I pull up Chad’s number and press CALL. He’s been my best friend since we were in boarding school together. I unload all my shit in the longest sentence ever heard. I don’t fucking come up for air until I’m done. Panic has its icy fingers around my throat and I can’t shake the bastard.

  Chad’s on speakerphone as I floor the sleek black McLaren across the Verrazano Bridge and toward eastern Long Island. I’m bobbing and weaving through traffic, gripping the wheel so tight that it might come off in my hands.

  I rant for a while and then slam my palm into the steering wheel. “What the fuck am I going to do? I did every last fucking thing that man ever asked of me! I’m screwed, Chad!”

  “I’ll help you think of something. Don’t worry. You got this.” Chad gives me the pep talk I need as I drive away from Uncle James’s swank office in Manhattan. “Go have a few drinks, nail some hot chick, and we’ll work it out on paper tomorrow.”

  I grimace and stare at the dashboard, making the same expression I’d offer if Chad were here with me. “Tomorrow’s Thanksgiving, asswipe. You’re supposed to be at your mother’s house.”

  He laughs lightly, “She can wait.”

  “She’ll kill you.” His mother is like Martha Stewart, pre-trial, on crack. Their estate home on the north shore of Long Island is pristine and the holiday will be exceptional, until Chad shows up in jeans and a T-shirt instead of a tie. Formality isn’t dead, not in that house.

  “Fine, then come with me. Eat turkey, talk turkey, and then poke your eye out with the wishbone, because my fucking Hallmark family is that boring. We’ll need some drama. If I have to sit through another holiday meal and listen to shit about hedge funds, I’ll fucking snap.” His voice rises an octave as he speaks so fast that all the words run together.

  Chad’s family has more money than God, but he doesn’t act like it. Not until he’s forced into the annual soul-sucking conversations about his future. When we were in college together, Chad nearly cracked from all the pressure put on him by his parents. Yeah, he has a set that’s still married after thirty-five years, which is a feat in and of itself. At times, like holidays—like now, with all this shit raining down—it’s difficult to not be envious. He has meddling parents. I have an evil uncle. That’s it. No kin to call my own, no family watching my back come hell or high water. No cousins or brothers. Chad is my only family.

  I assure him, “I’ll go with you. Calm the fuck down. Hedge funds are better than this shit.”

  Chad laughs but there’s no joy in it. “I’d trade lives with you in a fucking heartbeat, Aiden.”

  “Likewise buddy,” and I mean it, “but first, I need to get through this shit.”

  “Tomorrow, Aiden.” He urges. “Tonight, let your subconscious do all the thinking. Actually, let your dick do all the thinking. Pound some pussy and get smashed, in that order. It’ll give you something to be thankful for tomorrow.” Chad laughs and disconnects.

  I sigh and rub my hand over my face. It’s not a bad plan, but I feel too wound up for it. I’m still pissed. By now I’ve driven so far out on the Island that I’m passing the county line into Suffolk. Shit. It’s another hour to the summer house and an hour back to the city. When I took off, I was irate and started to drive without thinking about where I was going. All I could focus on was finding Ocean Parkway and letting the salty sea air fill my lungs as I gunned it down the road.

  I groan and glance around. I left the Parkway behind a while ago, and am flying down an open stretch of Sunrise—a modest concrete wonder with six lanes that connects suburbia to the city. Buildings jut up from the landscape, nothing more than three stories. If you took Manhattan and tipped it over on its side, you’d have Long Island.

  I drive like I have a destination in mind. I don’t want to go to the normal places tonight. I can’t face those people. They all know who I am, what I am. If they find out what happened, I won’t be able to bear it.

  I drive a bit further and stop just outside of Bayshore, past the mall, in a sketchy part of town. I roll into the back parking lot of a bar and cut the engine. I strip off my jacket and tug on an old gray sweater I left laying on the passenger seat. It’s old and soft. Combined with a pair of shitkickers, I know I can handle myself.

  When I walk into the establishment, I’m thinking bar fight. That’s why I stopped here. I need to beat the shit out of someone, and lose the anger building inside of me. This gutter looks like the perfect place to do it. But then, I spot this blonde in the corner with her nose in a book. Long tendrils of golden hair fall over her shoulders. Her face is perfect, fucking beautiful, not that I look at it too long because her tits are there in this red ribbed sweater, plump and perfect. I can imagine my hands on them as I kiss her senseless, spread her legs, and fuck her until she cries out in ecstasy.

  I walk over to her and stop in front of her table. She’s reading a Chilton’s manual, which shocks the hell out of me. I pull out a well-worn wooden chair and sit without asking. “Light reading?”

  She doesn’t glance up at me, just gives me the finger. “Fuck off, buddy. I’m not in the mood.” Her petite face remains downturned, her nose in that fat-ass book.

  “Neither was I, until I saw you.” That makes her look up. She stops for a second, startled. I think she recognizes me, but then her eyes tell another story—blank. She has no clue who I am, which is fucking perfect.

  “Nice line. Use it often?” She smirks at me, lifts a brow, and then goes back to her book, turns a page. She opens the index and goes to a previous section and then pinches the bridge of her nose like she has a massive headache. I say nothing, and just watch her for a second. The manual is for Hondas that are over a decade old. I saw one in the parking lot on the way in.

  I reach across, and take the book from her even though I know she’ll rip my arms off. “Hey!” She reaches t
o take it back, and I grab her hands and squeeze hard before releasing them. I push the book back at her.

  “Listen, I’ve had a shitty day and from the way you’re flipping through the pages of that manual, you’re stuck here until you can get your car to start. Honda Civic, am I right?”

  She frowns and her lip juts out. It’s so fucking perfect. I want to lean in and taste her, suck that pouty lip into my mouth and nip her.

  Her gaze narrows. “How’d you know that?”

  I run my hands through my hair and then lean on my elbows, getting closer to her. Her scent fills my head—fuck, she’s intoxicating. “Listen, I’ll fix your car and then you can spend the night doing funner things, or you can stay here alone. Up to you.”

  She hesitates. “What do you know about cars?”

  I don’t answer her. Instead, I get up and tip my head toward the door. “Keys?”

  She stiffens, and then sighs as she reaches into a purse that looks like a horse-feed bag. She fishes them out and hands them to me. “Fine, but if you steal my car, I’ll kick your ass.”

  I smirk at her. I like the spunky thing she has going on. This chick isn’t a pushover, which means she should be a lot of fun in bed. I offer a lazy smile and lean in close, invading her space and inhaling the perfect scent. “Tell me, honey, how exactly would I swipe a car that doesn’t run?”

  Her eyes lock with mine. Defiant. “You’d be surprised at what a desperate guy is willing to do.”

  I choke and laugh at her. “Desperate? That’s what you see when you look at this?”