by Coralee June
“You’re trying to get me to cut our talk short,” she said, pulling her glasses off and setting them on top of her head.
“You’re trying to get in my dad’s pants, and you think that playing shrink will get you a one-way ticket there,” I replied smoothly while standing up. The room felt too damn small, her floral perfume too pungent.
She sighed at me, letting her displeasure bleed through her face. “Stop trying to put the conversation on me, sugar. We’re here to discuss you. As it happens, I have another challenge for you,” she said.
I couldn’t stop myself from turning to her expectantly, like a damn dog waiting for a bone, and her lips turned into a wry grin. She finally had my full attention, and she was going to enjoy it.
“What’s the challenge?” I asked.
“Dress up. Look nice. Wear something that makes you feel sexy.” She eyed my current jeans and t-shirt with a speculative stare.
“You want me to wear something that makes me feel...sexy?” I asked with a frown, clarifying.
If Dad heard this, he’d fire Dr. Taffy on the spot. I thought back to the short skirt I wore to Smith Academy, trying to figure out if I had worn it because it made me feel sexy or not, but honestly, I had just wanted to fuck with Godfrey, and I was pretty sure I’d looked ridiculous.
“It doesn’t have to be a crazy get up, just something that you feel confident and beautiful in,” Dr. Taffy explained. “Wear it for you and no one else.”
I looked her over again, trying to figure out if I could handle purposely putting my body on display in front of strangers.
“Look,” she began. “Get dolled up and stay at home or hit the town. Either way, you’ve been wearing things that don’t feel like you. You’re either stuck wearing these innocent little dresses meant for a thirteen-year-old, or jeans and a shirt that hides your body. You need to find your sense of style again. Clothes are a great representation of ourselves, and it’s time yours represented you in a healthy way. Let your outfit speak for you.”
I looked at her loud prints and scoffed. “And what’s your outfit supposed to say?” I asked while curling my lip. “Middle-aged divorcee on the prowl?”
A snicker sounded from the crack in the door behind me, and I spun around, startled at the intrusion, only to find Godfrey Fucking Taylor.
“Is this session over?” he asked as he pushed his way inside.
I wasn’t sure what he was doing here, but at the moment, he seemed like the better option. And talk about letting your clothes speak, because Godfrey looked good. Dark denim pants clung to his frame, and his white shirt was crisp and tight enough to show off his damn good biceps and abs.
“Yep,” I replied with a pop, before spinning around to greet him at the door.
His eyes looked me over from toe to head like always, but there was a cloudiness in his expression that made me worry about what he’d overheard. I had no idea how long he’d been standing out there. One of the best things about Godfrey was that he didn’t treat me like I was broken. I wasn’t sure I could handle it if he had heard something that would change his perception of me.
Dr. Taffy opened her mouth to probably inform me that we had another fifteen minutes of our session, but her phone rang, so she dove for her purse and fished it out. Taking the opportunity to escape, I walked out of the room and followed Godfrey down the hallway. His fingers brushed against mine, sending a thrill shooting through my senses. I was fighting back the urge to feel embarrassed about my dry humping session—because sexual empowerment and all—but I still felt blood rush to my cheeks.
As if the barely-there touch had tempted him for more, his finger reached out and hooked around my pinky. I swallowed hard and felt my body inching closer to his, until our arms connected as we walked. The body heat coming off of both of us was like an inferno.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear that had come undone from my bun. “I didn’t think my father would tell you where we lived.” It was shocking, to be honest. My father didn’t tell anyone anything lightly. Very few people knew our home address.
“I’m here to take you out, princess.”
I frowned over at him. “Does my dad know about this?”
He smiled, like my answer amused him. “It’s just a party. It’ll be low key. You can even get all dressed up like your shrink said. Figured you needed a night out.”
“It’s rude to eavesdrop,” I told him testily. “And since when do you think about what I need?” Godfrey wasn’t thoughtful. Every word and every action had an ulterior motive.
As soon as the question was past my lips, he used his hold on my pinky to pull me in, and then he pressed me against the wall. Breathless, I looked up at him, watching as he used his entire body to pin me there, his minty breath feathering over me. His lips were on my neck within an instant, and my body responded in earnest. “Since I had my finger inside your dripping wet cunt, stroking you until you came in my palm,” he murmured into my ear. “Since you showed up at my school wearing that fucking skirt and got yourself off against me.” Every dirty word heated me up another degree until I was burning all over. “I’m pretty sure I know what you need better than anyone.”
Oh, God. I could have come again right then and there. I closed the difference between us, pressing my lips against his. I wasted no time shoving my tongue down his throat like I was hungry, and a needy noise rose out of my throat. I couldn’t help it. Every time I was around him, this attraction between us seemed to grow stronger.
I wanted to drag him into the nearest room and finish what he’d started, but a voice suddenly sounded from the hall. “Hey!”
I squeezed my eyes shut, partly from embarrassment at being caught in this position, but partly because I needed a breather after being so turned on.
“What are you doing?”
Opening my eyes, I looked over, quickly dropping my hands which I realized had come around to grip Godfrey’s shirt. “Beau?” I said in confused greeting. Why was it that they both had to be here at the same time?
I shoved at Godfrey, but of course, the prick didn’t move away. If anything, he just pushed his hips against me harder, and he let his hand trail down to pinch my waist.
“Get off,” I hissed under my breath.
Godfrey scoffed. “I’d love to get off with you. I’ll even return the favor,” he quipped.
I was ready to knee him in the balls again, and he must have seen that in my eyes, because he finally did push away from me. But instead of stepping back, he just leaned a shoulder against the wall beside me, keeping his hold on my waist. When I slapped his hand, he laughed.
“What are you doing here, Beau?” I asked, trying to regain some semblance of composure. It was odd having him in my house. Aside from when he woke me up, we’d always met at one of my dad’s warehouses, or hung out around town.
“Your dad sent me to pick a few things up,” he answered, stepping in front of me. He had a black case in his hand, probably filled with more plates for the counterfeit machines.
“Oh,” I breathed, fidgeting slightly.
“I’m glad I caught you, actually,” he said, then winced slightly at what he’d just said. My cheeks burned with embarrassment. I’d always had a crush on Beau, but that was before. Now, I wasn’t sure what I felt. Like back at the warehouse, when I’d kissed him, I’d mostly done it to shock everyone, to push Godfrey’s buttons, and to see if I felt something. But if anything, it just confused me more.
“Anyway,” he went on. “I was wondering if you wanted to hang out tonight. With me,” he added quickly.
I could practically feel Godfrey’s eyes like a laser on my face. “She’s busy,” he said.
I bristled, my back tensing at his words. “You don’t speak for me,” I snapped at him. “And I never said I would go with you tonight.”
“Yeah, that’s because you were too busy tongue-fucking me,” he retorted smoothly.
God, I hated him.
Beau’s eyes darted between us, and when he saw how uncomfortable and pissed off I was, he took it upon himself to act the part of the hero. “Rachel isn’t going anywhere with you. Rocco might want you to work for him, but you don’t get to take advantage of her.”
Godfrey pushed away from the wall and got in Beau’s face. “I’m pretty sure she likes it when I do.”
Beau’s eyes flashed with anger, but Dr. Taffy decided to come out of the office right then. When she saw the standoff between Godfrey and Beau, her steps faltered. Then her lips curled up with a forced, sickly sweet smile. “Oh, Beauregard, I’m so glad to see you here. Rachel could use some good influences in her life,” she said, patting him on the chest as she passed. My mouth popped open in surprise. This lady had some serious ovaries to be dissing Godfrey Taylor right out in the open like that. What was her problem, anyway? Did she know Godfrey?
She breezed past us, and when I shot my eyes over to Godfrey to gauge his reaction, I wasn’t the least bit surprised to see that he was grinning. Once Dr. Taffy was out of earshot, he turned to Beau. “You’re fucking the therapist? I bet she’s crazy in bed.”
Beau turned a deep shade of red before shaking his head. “I’m not fucking her therapist,” he hissed.
Godfrey laughed and shook his head, clearly not believing him. Beau curled his fists at his sides. It was about then that I realized this conversation was going absolutely nowhere, and unless I wanted a fistfight in my living room, I needed to shut it down.
“I’m going to go to the party with Godfrey tonight,” I finally decided. “But you’re welcome to join us, Beau.”
I could feel Godfrey go rigid in annoyance. His face went through various expressions. Surprise. Anger. Annoyance. And then, amusement.
“Sure. Bring him. I don’t care,” Godfrey said with a detached tone before turning on his heel and walking away. “I’ll text you the address. Be there at nine. And don’t forget doctor’s orders. Something sexy,” he said with a cheeky grin.
But something about the calculated way he sauntered away had me wondering if he didn’t care if I brought Beau or if he just wanted me to think that he didn’t care. Either way, I found myself wanting to dig my nails into his scalp and crack open his skull so I could figure the bastard out.
Chapter Seventeen
Rachel
It had been a while since I put so much effort into my appearance. I applied smoky eyeshadow that made my blue eyes pop and a deep red lipstick I couldn’t help but think would look good painted over Godfrey’s skin. Because I was riding Beau’s motorcycle there, I settled on black skinny jeans and some black heels, paired with a criss-cross black crop top and a leather jacket. The only thing I didn’t attempt to tame was my hair. I threw it up into a ponytail.
I used to love my long locks, but it ended up being a weakness. I could still feel Pick’s stale whisper against my skin.
“Your hair’s real pretty. Long enough for me to wrap around my fist and pull.”
I couldn’t stand to feel it hanging down my back anymore. I used to always leave it down, but now I had to have it up, even when I slept. I was dreading the day Dr. Taffy challenged me to style it. She knew I had a toxic relationship with my hair, and I knew it was only a matter of time before she used that information against me and demanded I confront my pale, blonde locks head-on. And I knew that I’d grit my teeth and accept her challenge; winning was in my blood.
The current challenge of getting dressed up wasn’t so bad. It was nice to methodically apply my makeup and pick out an outfit that made me feel beautiful. For the first time in months, I was able to stare at my reflection and not see someone struggling. I saw...me. A hybrid of the things that had happened to me and all the things I wanted to be.
I’d never admit it, but maybe Dr. Taffy was on to something.
My phone pinged just as I was finishing up wrapping the hair tie around it. I reached down and fished out my phone from my back pocket to check it.
Beau: Ur dad has me running cash. I can’t make it tonight. Want me to come over when I’m done? We could just watch movies.
I clicked my tongue, debating on what to respond with. I knew I should stay at home and sink into the comfortable familiarity that Beau offered, but I’d actually been excited by the idea of seeing Godfrey again. In fact, I wasn’t even sure that I felt disappointment over not seeing Beau. The only emotion I could feel was relief.
Me: Nah. I’m going to go to the party still. See you later.
I wasn’t in the mood for a pissing contest between him and Godfrey. It forced me to question myself. My body responded to Godfrey, and I was starting to realize that Beau could never compare. I didn’t know what that said about me and wasn’t willing to put myself into a situation to find out. Beau responded to my text immediately, but instead of looking at what I was sure was a plea to stay home and away from Godfrey Taylor, I pocketed my phone.
I walked down the hall, pausing in the living room to tell Dad I was ready to go. He was probably going to have one of his henchmen drive me since Beau bailed. He was on the couch with his arms spread wide on either side of him, watching basketball. When he noticed me, he glanced over quickly, but when he saw what I was wearing, his eyes came back to study me more closely, his gray eyes widening in surprise.
He dropped his arms and stood up, walking over to me. “You need to go change,” he said, suddenly overprotective. Too bad he was too late for that. “You can’t go out of the house like...that,” he said nervously.
“It doesn’t matter what I wear. My clothes aren’t an advertisement that I’m up for assault,” I seethed.
“I didn’t mean—”
I cut him off. “I was wearing a college sweatshirt a size too big and leggings that day when they took me. You think that made any difference?”
His eyes tightened, showing off the small wrinkles there. “No, Rach, I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”
Anything else to happen to me, he meant. I crossed my arms in front of me. “You can say it, you know.”
His bushy eyebrows drew together. “Say what?”
“I was kidnapped. Shot up. Raped,” I said, watching as he flinched with each word. “You don’t talk about it,” I accused, suddenly furious. I knew what he wanted. He wanted the old me back. The darling daughter who was meek and good and was the only part of his life that wasn’t polluted by his dirty business endeavors.
My throat was tight, and we stood a foot apart, but I felt the gap between us more than ever. The noise of my trauma pounded in my skull.
“Why would I want to talk about it, Rachel?” he shot back at me, his voice rising. “You think I don’t know? You think I wasn’t looking for you for fuckin’ weeks?” The desperation in his voice made my throat catch. Finally, we were talking about it, instead of him just glossing over everything and not saying a damn thing. For too long, he’d been demanding answers of me, but he wasn’t the only one seeking closure. “I looked for you, baby,” he said, surprising me when his eyes turned wet. “I fuckin’ looked for you everywhere. It killed me. And I carried that here,” he said, pounding a fist on his chest. “I carried it with me every day that I couldn’t find you, knowing he took you because of me.”
I felt a single, noise-filled tear trickle out of my pounding eye and fall down my cheek. “I carried it, too,” I whispered shakily. “I have to carry it for the rest of my life, but it’s my life. I have to live it, and you have to let me.”
A strangled sob escaped him, and I watched my dad drop to the ground on his knees, like he was about to beg for his pockmarked soul. The sight shocked me. My dad didn’t cry. The only time I’d ever seen him do it was when my mom died years ago. And the old me would have broken down just at the sight of him at my feet. The old me would have wrapped my arms around him and pressed against his chest for comfort. But I wasn’t her anymore, so all I could do was stare.
“I’m so fuckin’ sorry, baby,” he said to the floor, his voice strained. “W
hat can I do?”
“For starters, you can stop judging me for my clothes,” I replied with a sniffle, wiping at my nose. “And you can stop pawning me off on other people like I’m their problem. Godfrey Taylor, Dad? Really?”
He stood up and hugged me so tightly that I felt like I was going to break with how he clung to me. He nodded. “You’re my baby girl. I’m trying to do what I think is best. You’re all I have left.”
That was the thing though, wasn’t it? He didn’t really have me anymore. His little girl died the day she was dragged, kicking and screaming, into JJ’s van. I became someone new entirely. But I still wanted a relationship with my dad. I still wanted to find middle ground between who I was then and who I am now.
“I’m going to go to the party with Godfrey, and I’m going to try to have fun, because I could use a little bit of that. But how about we pick up those chess lessons again?” I asked, trying to start building the bridge between us. The idea of playing chess had my heart constricting, the complex game like a trigger, and I stared down the barrel of trauma. But there was something empowering about facing my demons head-on with a smile. And I was going to dive headfirst into all the things that made me uncomfortable. It was the only way I’d ever get through this.
“I’d...I’d like that a lot,” Dad replied with a sniffle. “How about tomorrow morning?”
“Yeah. We can do breakfast. Just...please make something other than waffles.” I meant it as a joke, but Dad looked at me with guilt. I knew he was trying. I knew that he was helpless in these situations. My ma had been the sensitive one. She was the one that knew the perfect things to say. She was gentle, caring, and compassionate. Him? He was rough around the edges, and I was now just shattered pieces stuck together.
