by L A Cotton
“Yeah. I guess I’ll see you when practice starts. Oh, and Zach...”
“Yeah?”
“People are starting to talk about you and Vic.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Whoa,” his hands went up. “Don’t shoot the messenger. I get it, I do. But just be careful, yeah?”
A fresh wave of irritation skittered up my spine as I walked away from Callum. I couldn’t win. Nothing I did or said would ever go unnoticed because that’s what being a Messiah meant. But being the Messiah replacement only made everything ten times worse. People would compare me, constantly hold me to Declan’s standards.
Victoria was the only person who didn’t do that.
Part of me knew Callum meant well, that he was only trying to do the right thing for the team. But the other part, the part so sick and fucking tired of people trying to manipulate my life, couldn’t help but think he was doing it to be cruel. To take away the one thing that made any sense in all of this.
By the time I spilled onto the sidewalk just beyond the campus, I finally felt like I could breathe again. In there, everything was about basketball, about being the best, and going all the way. It was about upholding the Messiah legacy of greatness. In there, I wasn’t Zachary Messiah. I was a pawn, an actor... a body snatcher.
But out here, I was just a guy trying to make sense of things. Out here, I didn’t have to worry about keeping up appearances.
Out here, I could let myself break.
“You look like shit.” Vic pursed her lips.
“Hello, to you too.” I leaned against the door and quirked a brow.
“I know you said you didn’t feel up to hanging out, but I brought pizza and beer.”
“Vic, it’s late.”
“I know, I know... but I could really use the company.”
“Couldn’t sleep?” I knew she had nightmares. She’d told me about them once, when she was drunk on sickly sweet shooters.
“I tried to turn over and go back to sleep, Zach, I did, but....”
“Come on.” I stepped aside to let her enter, my stomach growling as the smell of tomato and garlic hit my senses.
“I got your favorite.” She placed the box down on the kitchen counter.
“Extra sausage?”
“Extra sausage.”
We worked seamlessly together, her getting plates and napkins while I cracked open two beers and joined her on the couch. “Want to talk about it?”
“Nope.” Vic helped herself to a slice of pizza and took a big bite. “See what’s on the TV,” she mumbled.
I grabbed the remote and began flicking, settling on some action movie.
“Oh, good choice. I like this one, the guy is a snack.”
“A snack?” I snorted.
“Yeah, you know, he’s tasty.”
“I know what a snack is, Vic. I just don’t think I’ve ever heard you say it.”
“I miss sex,” she blurted out, slapping a hand over her mouth. “Oh God,” it came out garbled.
“Relax,” I chuckled. “It’s been what... five months?”
“Five months, three weeks, and six days.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, because what the hell was I supposed to say in this situation?
“Yeah, me too.”
“You can still get yourself off, right?”
“Zach!” Her cheeks burned.
“It’s just sex, Vic. We all do it.” Not as much as I liked right now, but it wasn’t for lack of offers.
“I have options... yes.” And by options, I hoped she meant a battery-operated toy. “But it isn’t the same. I miss the intimacy. I miss feeling a guy’s lips on my skin. I miss kissing... God, I miss kissing.” Sadness filled her eyes and I braced myself for the tears. It didn’t happen a lot anymore, but she still had her moments. Usually when a bottle of vodka was involved.
“You don’t have to stay with him, Vic. You know that, right? The likelihood is he’ll never—”
“Don’t, please. Just don’t.” Her eyes shuttered and the first tear fell.
I took the pizza box from her lap and placed it on the coffee table, pulling her into my side. “You’re a good person, Vic.”
Her arm went around my waist, but fell short, her hand splaying on my stomach.
“Vic,” I warned. This was dangerous. Her tight little body pressed against mine, her fingers stroking precariously close to my dick.
“Don’t you want to feel something, Zach? Something beside the constant anger and frustration and pain?” She gazed up at me with big, sad eyes.
“And tomorrow when everything looks a little brighter? What then, Vic?”
Her lip wobbled. “It can be our secret.”
Because that’s what I was worth to her.
A dirty little secret.
My spine went rigid as I snagged her wrist, moving it away from my stomach. “We should watch the movie.”
“Y- yeah.” She sat up and put some space between us. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
“It’s all good.” I gave her a tight smile. “Besides, I don’t really blame you. I am quite the snack.”
“Jerk.”
Some of the tension seeped away as I smirked, and our strained laughter filled the room. Just like that we forgot all about the moment my brother’s girl tried to seduce me.
And I tried to tell myself, I hadn’t almost let her.
Vic stayed. I didn’t have a guest room and I’d offered to take the couch, but she promised to keep her hands to herself. So here we were, in my bed. It wasn’t the first time she’d stayed over, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Victoria was in Chi Delta Kappa. Their house was always loud and busy. I understood her need for some quiet.
She snored gently, curled in a ball, facing away from me, as I lay on my back, with one arm tucked behind my head, staring up at the ceiling. It would have been so easy to fuck her. To sink deep inside her and let sex carry us away to another place. But she was Declan’s. He’d been there first. No matter how much I wanted to get back at him, at my parents, it was pretty sick by anyone’s standards.
I wasn’t just anyone though.
I harbored a darkness inside me that sometimes scared me. Usually, I kept it in check. I had to. But sometimes, it pushed to the surface... like when I’d seen Calli at the party and again at Muds.
There had been another time too. A time that I gave in and let it consume me.
Did she remember?
Did she remember how it had felt when I’d fucked her against that wall in the abandoned house?
It had been last Halloween, and I’d returned to Bay View with Mom to see her cousin’s new baby. There had been a party and a couple of my old friends from school had talked me into going. I hadn’t expected to see Calli, but the second I did, I knew I couldn’t just walk away.
“I want my camera back.” Calli said from behind me. I turned slightly, fixing my eyes on her.
“Maybe I don’t want to give it back, maybe I want to negotiate.” I took another photo, the flash lighting up the dark space.
“I won’t play your games,” she seethed.
But the fire in her eyes betrayed her.
“So I didn’t hear your breath hitch when I touched you?” I stalked closer. “I didn’t see lust glitter in your eyes? I didn’t feel you fisting my t-shirt, pulling me closer?”
We were almost touching, Calli’s tight little body right there pressed close to mine. I smirked, holding my camera, taking snap after snap of her. Wide eyed and flushed, she looked so fucking beautiful, and I hated it.
Click, click, click.
“You still look at me with stars in your eyes,” I said quietly, hating the way the words twisted my insides. “Even after what I did to you. Even after what you did to me.”
“What—” Her words died as my hand glided up the side of her neck. A shudder rolled through her, but she wasn’t scared. She was turned on. I felt her arousal ripple in t
he air.
“Was it all a lie?” she whispered into the darkness, her voice wobbling. “Did you ever lo—” Her expression steeled as she swallowed the L word. “Did you ever care about me?”
“Does it matter?” My fingers moved to her cheek, stroking the skin there.
“No,” she whispered, tears pooled in the corners of her eyes, “I guess it doesn’t.”
Leaning down, I brushed my lips over hers, but she pressed them together, refusing to let me in. “Open up, sweet pea.” The words rumbled in my chest. “Let me taste you. I really fucking need to taste you.”
Calli hesitated, a shudder rolling through her.
“Calliope, please give me this.”
I was begging. Fuck, why was I begging?
But I needed her. I needed her in a way I couldn’t explain.
I saw the second she gave in. Her breath caught slightly, and her eyes burned with liquid lust.
“Good girl.” I dived for her, plunging my tongue deep into her mouth.
“Zach,” she whispered as I backed her up against the wall, kissing her like I was a man starved. The camera went off again as I captured the moment Calliope James fell from grace.
She pulled me closer. “One night,” she breathed. “You get one night.”
As if it could ever be anything more. This was madness, letting her back in. Giving a piece of myself to the girl who had ruined me. But I had to have her. One more time, I had to feel her.
“I need to feel you, now, Calli.” My fingers clawed at her thigh, but the camera was making things difficult. Pulling away, I bent down and placed it on the floor. It was enough to break the spell and when my eyes found hers again, I almost growled. She looked so fucking good… so innocent and pure.
“Are you really going to let me do it?” I asked coldly. “Fuck you in the dark while your friends party down on the beach?”
“They are not my friends.” Her strength surprised me. I half-expected her to break after my cruel words. Calli had changed. We both had. It was a challenge I hadn’t expected—seeing how far I could push her until she broke.
“No, you never did play well with others, did you?” I stroked the side of her neck, dipping my other hand under her skirt, cupping her pussy. I couldn’t resist sliding my thumb against her clit.
“Are you wet for me, sweet pea?”
“Why don’t you find out?” Calli’s brow lifted in a bold display of confidence.
Jesus, this girl.
Who was she?
“You’re different,” I said.
“So are you.”
My brows furrowed. “Oh, you don’t know the half of it.”
“I—” Her words got stuck in her throat as I hooked my fingers into her damp panties and pushed a digit inside her.
“Jesus, Calli.” I nipped her earlobe. “You’re so fucking tight. Didn’t you let anyone else in here?” Why did I care so much?
But when I looked at her and saw the tears kissing her lashes, I knew. “Fuck, you didn’t... No wonder you want it so bad.”
My hand flattened beside her head, caging Calli against the wall. I stared right at her as I worked her with my fingers, slow sure strokes that had her writhing beneath me. “Yeah, that’s it, Calli, ride my hand.” I went faster, harder, pressing my fingers deeper.
“God,” she moaned. “It feels...”
“I know, baby. I know.” I dragged my tongue up her cheek before kissing her hungrily.
It was enough to tip her over the edge, her cries filling the abandoned house.
Need burned through me and before I knew it, I had the button on my jeans open and my hands under her ass, lifting her against the wall. Calli’s slick pussy pulled me into her, and I was almost inside her when something made me pause.
“Are you sure?”
She stared at me, refusing to give me an answer.
“Are. You. Sure?” I barked. I was going to explode. If I didn’t get inside her in the next five seconds, I was going to combust.
“Fuck it,” I growled, slamming into her.
Calli’s ankles locked behind my back, as I pounded into her.
“Zach...” she panted.
“Yeah, baby?” I murmured into the crook of her shoulder as I went harder. Faster. Not caring that her back was probably being torn to shreds by the bare wall. She felt too fucking good. So tight and wet.
“Why does it feel so good?” she cried.
“Because you’re mine, Calliope.” My hand went to her throat, pinning her there. “You’ve always been mine.”
But she wasn’t mine.
Maybe she never had been.
Calli
It took an entire five days of me being at SU before my father summoned me to his house—a big sprawling place overlooking the ocean, on a patch of land nestled right between Steinbeck and Morenta. For a second, I contemplated not going. But that would only give him ammunition. Besides, before she died, my mom had asked me to try.
God, I hated that word.
A promise I’d made to a dying woman. The woman who had been there for me no matter what.
For as much as I hated to admit it, there was still a small girl inside me, a child desperate for her father’s approval. I’d had therapy to conquer that... but there were some things that no amount of talking could fix. They were just a part of you, the way blood flowed through your veins and salt tainted your tears.
Forcing myself up the path, I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. I hadn’t bothered to dress up, sticking to my modest-length jean shorts and a striped t-shirt. Before I reached the door, it opened.
“You’re late,” Callum said.
“No, I’m not.” I checked my wristwatch. “I’m two minutes early.”
“Whatever. Dad is in the kitchen.”
Except for the argument we’d had the other day, I hadn’t seen my brother in almost three months—not since the funeral—and that’s all he had to say to me.
It stung far more than it should. I wasn’t the one who ruined our relationship, that was all on him. He’d chosen our father in our parents’ separation. He’d chosen to pursue basketball at all costs.
I’d had no say in the matter.
“Nice to see you too,” I grumbled as I stepped inside, watching his retreating form. As I moved through the house, I was hardly surprised to see the display cabinets and shelves full of Callum’s trophies and medals. There was a wall full of newspaper cuttings and photographs, all of my brother. His face. His life. His accolades. He owned one hundred percent of my father’s display real estate.
And what did I get?
A text message demanding my presence at the house today, five days after I’d arrived in Steinbeck.
It would have been laughable if it wasn’t so sad.
“Hello?” I called out. I’d only been here a handful of times, when I was younger. Back when I’d been desperate to salvage my relationship with Callum. But it quickly became apparent that it was pointless. You couldn’t fight for something that was already dead and buried.
“In here,” my father’s baritone voice echoed through the house.
I found him in his study, nose buried in a stack of papers. “Ah, Calliope, you made it. Late as always, I see.”
“Actually, I’m not—” I bit back the need to argue. “You wanted to see me?”
“Yes, don’t just stand there, take a seat. Callum’s around here somewhere. Did you two—”
“We already saw each other.” And it was as underwhelming as ever.
“Good, good.” He sat back, taking a hand through his salt and pepper hair. “You’re settled in well over there?”
“It’s fine.”
“You know, you could have just stayed here.”
“I think we both know that wasn’t an option.”
“Calli, don’t be ridiculous. This is your home. Now that your mom is... gone.” He inhaled a sharp breath. I was surprised. The man was usually as emotionally void as a tree stump. “You are more
than welcome—”
“It was always the plan to stay in dorms.”
“Still as stubborn as ever, I see.” He steepled his fingers. “And money? You’re okay?”
Do you really care? The words teetered on the tip of my tongue, but I didn’t let them escape, trapping them behind a thin smile.
“I’m fine. The sale of the house closed last month.” Mom had insisted the money went toward my tuition and living expenses. It wasn’t much after the mortgage was repaid, but it was enough for now.
“You know, I really was very sorry to hear Fiona—”
“Can we not do this?” My teeth ground together. He didn’t care. He’d called a handful of times throughout the whole ordeal.
I’d sat with my mom through chemo, hospital visits, endless days of sickness and pain. I’d clutched her hand near the end and tried to keep her spirits up. And what had Callum and Dad done?
They’d managed to check in on us a handful of times.
I would never forgive them for that.
Ever.
“Of course, I imagine it’s still all very raw.”
Un-fucking-believable.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to grab the trophy he kept on his desk, throw it at the wall and watch it break apart, the way I’d been broken apart.
But I didn’t. Because the little girl inside me desperate for her father’s attention refused to give up. Not to mention the promise I’d made to a dying woman to... try.
Despite all his flaws—and there were many—Andrew James was still my father, and I was still his daughter.
God, sometimes I wished I didn’t care so much. Sometimes, I wished that I could just step outside the lines of what was expected of me and just throw caution to the wind and go with my gut feeling.
But I’d tried that once... and it had ended with Zachary Messiah breaking my heart a second time.
No, I had to stay true to who I was. I liked rules and boundaries and I prided myself on adhering to them.
“Are we eating?” I took a calming breath, changing the subject.
“There are chicken and vegetables in the refrigerator. I’m not a great cook though so maybe you could…”
I stood up and clenched my fists at my sides, reveling in the sting of my nails in my palm. “I’ll get right on that.”
