by A. Zavarelli
“Did I wake you?” he asked softly.
I didn’t answer. I clutched his face in my hands and pulled his lips to mine. I needed him inside me. Why, I couldn’t explain. But I did.
Ryland didn’t protest when I climbed on top of him and unceremoniously pulled down his waistband until his cock sprang free. My fever quickly spread to him as his hands tugged at the silk camisole I was wearing, trying to free it from my body.
He ended up settling for pushing it around my waist as I sank down onto his erection, thrusting my entire body forward for his pleasure. His hands pawed at my breasts while I rocked against him, making him groan with every movement.
When his mouth wrapped around my nipple, I cried out his name. We both went wild with need, using each other for our own desperate pleasure… sucking and nipping, gripping and pulling. My tongue, my breasts, my hair… they all became objects of his desire while I clutched at his arms and kissed along his neck. It was the strangest combination of sex we’d ever had. Raw, animal fucking interspersed with sweet passion.
He would bite me and pull my hair, then soothe it with a gentle caress while he kissed me until I couldn’t breathe. When I finally hit the crescendo, he threaded his fingers through mine before allowing his own release a moment later.
Once it was all over, silence engulfed the room around us. I had no words, and apparently neither did he. He moved to pull out, but I couldn’t let him. Not yet. I needed him there, inside of me, connected to me… where he belonged.
Ryland groaned as he flipped me onto my back and began to pulse inside of me with the smallest of movements while he kissed every inch of my face. The room was still dark, save for the light of the moon that spilled in through the curtain. And in that darkness, I felt safe with him. Safe to let myself be vulnerable in his arms.
He spent the rest of the night inside of me, savoring every moment as if it were a gift. When he finally collapsed and pulled me into his arms, I asked him again the question that haunted me.
“Why me, Ryland?”
He kissed me on the forehead and gave me the same answer he had before as he pulled me closer. “It could only ever be you.”
The sun was coming up, but I wasn’t tired, and by the pattern of his breathing he wasn’t going to sleep either. Still, I hadn’t expected him to speak, so when he did, it surprised me.
“Sometimes I ask myself the same thing,” he admitted. “It was logical for me to choose you, but I didn’t think I wanted to. Everything changed when I saw you that day. When I learned everything there was to know about you.”
“You couldn’t possibly know everything about me,” I replied. “Only what you’ve seen on paper.”
“Try me,” he suggested.
“Okay…” I mulled this over for a moment before asking him the dumbest question I could think of. “How do I take my pancakes?”
“With peanut butter and powdered sugar. A disgusting combination by the way.”
I stared at him with my mouth gaping as I processed his words. “How could you possibly know that?”
“I told you.” He shrugged. “I know everything there is to know about you, Brighton.”
“That isn’t true,” I argued, desperate to prove my point. “You can’t know my thoughts. My feelings.”
He was quiet for a moment before he conceded. “I suppose there is one thing I don’t know.”
“What?”
“Whether you still think I’m a monster or not.”
His voice was distant again, but I didn’t let it affect me or my response. I’d been vulnerable enough to him already tonight, and this little game he was playing was a very real reminder of our circumstances.
“Does it matter what I think?” I turned the words back around on him.
There was a long pause before he answered. “It shouldn’t.”
I didn’t have time to think of a response because a moment later he kissed me on the cheek and rolled out of bed.
“I’m going for a run,” he said. “Get some sleep, Brighton.”
***
I sat out on the back porch, sipping a steaming cup of hot coffee. The fog from the bay rolled off the water and into the back yard, completing the eery feeling of this house.
Ryland had been gone for over two hours, and I couldn’t sleep without him. I didn’t bother venturing up to the third level again because it was too creepy to consider.
I didn’t understand how he could spend any time here alone. The sorrow that surrounded this house was deep and profound, and I wondered why Ryland would even own a place like this. The more I uncovered about him, the more I was convinced that something horrible happened in his past.
Before I could stop myself, I pulled up google on my phone. But instead of typing in Ryland’s name, I typed in something else that I was certain I never would again.
Lockhart Family in Chicago.
Article after article flooded the results, and I hovered over them with a hesitant finger. I didn’t want to see their faces. To see the entire family my brother had eradicated. But I couldn’t stop myself this time.
I skipped over the articles about the accident and moved to the biographical information. I focused my search efforts on the only remaining survivor, Michael Lockhart. The patriarch of the family and a well-loved businessman, he seemed for all intents and purposes to have the perfect life. His business was based out of Chicago, but it stated he was from California originally. It would have been a little too coincidental for my liking if it weren’t for the next piece of information I stumbled on.
I was surprised to learn his life had also been cut short not long after the accident.
Michael Lockhart, age 49 passed away from a self-inflicted gunshot wound. The shocking news comes only six months after the death of his wife Katherine and children Jackson and Sophia in a tragic hit and run…
My stomach knotted, and bile rose in my throat. I didn’t want to know anymore. I couldn’t.
Then as if the universe had a sick sense of humor, my cell phone rang a God-awful tone, making me wince.
“Hello?” I answered wearily.
Norma-Jean and I didn’t talk very often. So if she was calling, there must be a good reason.
“Brighton, it’s your… it’s Norma-Jean,” she replied in her gravelly tone.
If I wasn’t concerned before, the fact she’d almost said it’s your mother sent alarm bells off inside my head. Not since I was ten years old had she allowed me to call her that. During one of her phases, she decided to reinvent herself, scrounging up the money to change her name. She went into the courthouse as Patty Valentine and came out as Norma-Jean Richmond. She said she thought it made her sound classier. I silently rebutted that she was only fooling herself.
“What’s going on?” I asked, getting straight to the point.
There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line which only made me more anxious.
“What is it, Norma?” I demanded. “Is Brayden okay?”
“He’s been attacked again,” she spat out as though it were somehow my fault.
Blood roared in my ears, and I had to hold onto to the table to keep myself upright.
“How bad is it?” I croaked.
This wasn’t the first time Brayden had been attacked. He’d been a target from the moment he stepped foot in the MCC. By the time his sentence was handed down, and he was transferred to Greenville, his face had been splashed across every major news outlet that ever existed. People all over the nation paused to shed tears for the victims of the horrific crime that had taken place. It was a story that pulled at the heartstrings of every man, woman, and child… myself included. But someone had to stand by Brayden’s side, and that someone was me. He was my twin brother, my lifeblood, and I knew in my heart he wasn’t capable of such recklessness.
“He’s in Greenville Regional,” my mother’s voice crackled through the phone. “And those fuckin’ nurses won’t tell me shit. They think they’re so much better than me�
��”
I could imagine why. Norma-Jean didn’t know how to ask something tactfully. But I was past the point of relying on her for anything, including information.
“I need to go,” I said. “I have to see what’s going on.”
My mother huffed and started her typical spiel about how ungrateful I was that she’d raised us on her own. I disconnected the line and steadied my hand as I tried to type in Ryland’s name, but before I could, I saw his figure in the doorway.
“How long have you been there?” I asked.
“Long enough to know what that phone call was about.”
“Did you know?” I accused. “Did you already know about this?”
“I only found out five minutes ago myself,” he replied.
He just stood there. As if he had all the time in the world to relay this information.
“And?” I pushed.
“And as far as I know, he’s in critical but stable condition.”
“I have to go to him.” I thrust the chair backward as I stood. “I’m going now.”
A dark look passed over Ryland’s face, and it made my blood boil. I no longer cared what his issues were.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I walked up and shoved my hands against his chest. “He’s my brother. You told me he was your friend. And if you don’t stop looking at me like that, I swear I will slap that expression right off your face!”
He pinned my arms to the side to subdue me and crushed me against his chest.
“I know he’s your brother,” he whispered in my ear. “I wish he wasn’t, but I know he is.”
I pulled away from him and swiped at the angry tears that spilled from my eyes as I shook my head in disbelief. It broke my heart that anyone could hate Brayden so much.
“How can you talk like that?” I demanded. “He’s a good person. He didn’t even do anything to deserve this!”
“Didn’t he?” he asked in a hollow voice. “If that’s the case, then why did he plead guilty, Brighton? Have you ever stopped to consider that? Why he let the person who committed the crime walk away scot-free?”
I clamped my mouth shut as I processed his bitter words. He had a point. It was a question I’d asked myself a thousand times. But now that I knew Brayden wasn’t guilty, nothing else mattered. I knew his character. I knew what was in his heart, and he would never intentionally hurt anybody.
“What does any of that have to do with you?” I hissed. “Why do you care what Brayden did or didn’t do?”
His phone chimed, interrupting our conversation.
“Ted’s here to take you to the airport.”
He reached into his pocket and retrieved something before sliding it onto my wrist. A new GPS bracelet.
His fingers feathered over the metal while I scowled at him.
“Brighton?”
“What?” I snapped.
“Be careful.”
He released me with a pained expression. I hesitated only a moment before making my way into the house. I couldn’t think about Ryland right now. I couldn’t feel bad for him. But I did, and I didn’t even know why. But fuck him. Fuck him for always making me feel this way. Brayden was my main concern right now, and I wasn’t going to apologize for that.
I decided to bring the clothing I had with me, so I didn’t have to stop by my apartment. Ted was waiting in the parlor, taking the items off my hands as he ushered me to the car. I was thankful he understood my impatience in this situation, and that he moved as fast as he was able.
The drive back to San Francisco was beautiful, or so Ted said. But I didn’t see any of it. Only when we pulled up to the airport did I begin to relax.
Ted came around and opened my door, and when I stepped out of the car, there was a private jet awaiting our arrival.
“That’s not…”
I tripped over the words as Ted guided me up the steps and onto the plane.
“Mr. Bennett insisted you be taken to Illinois without delay,” he said. “And that I accompany you, should you need anything.”
I stared up at him blankly and wanted to tell him that wasn’t necessary. But the more I thought about it, the more I was grateful for his presence. If only to know I wasn’t alone.
Chapter Nineteen
I tried to ignore the armed guard watching us interact and the silver glint of handcuffs every time Brayden moved his arm.
“It’s not so bad.” He managed a pained smile as I sniffled in the chair beside his bed. “You should see the other guy.”
I wasn’t in the mood for his sense of humor, and I let him know it too. He’d been beaten to a pulp, and he was lucky to be alive.
“I have to fix this,” I said, more to myself than to Brayden. “There has to be something…”
“Stop.”
Brayden’s tone brooked no argument. And when I looked into the depth of his brown eyes, I was shocked again by how much they’d hardened over the years. “There’s nothing you can do for me Brighton, except sit here and enjoy the time we have together right now. Is that too much to ask?”
I nodded, embarrassed I’d even mentioned it in front of him. It was against my agreement with Ryland to say anything in the first place, and this conversation could have come dangerously close with the mood I was in.
But Brayden was right. I was only allowed this one visit with him, something the guard informed me was normally against the rules in these circumstances. I suspected he’d been paid off, and there was only one guess as to who would have done that.
“They kicked mom out, you know,” Brayden offered up a change of subject.
“I know,” I groaned. “I saw her lurking in the parking lot on my way in. She was in a real lovely mood.”
“You shouldn’t be so hard on her,” he said, staring out the window as his eyes glazed over.
“Really?” I bit back. “Have you seen her, Brayden? She looks like shit. She’s knocking on death’s door. She’s as thin as a lamp post and half of her teeth are rotted out of her damn head.”
“I know,” he replied. “But that’s why she needs you. I can’t be there for her anymore, and I’m not asking you to move back or anything… but would it kill you to call her every once in a while?”
“Why should I?” I sniped. “When was she ever there for us?”
I didn’t know why I sounded so bitter. I’d never been this way before. But with everything else I had to worry about, Norma-Jean was no longer making the list. I couldn’t help those who didn’t want to help themselves.
“It wasn’t always like that,” he said quietly. “She had a rough go of it, Brighton. Things weren’t easy for her either…”
“Why are you defending her?” I asked. “You seem to remember a completely different childhood to the one I had. And you weren’t there these last five years as she spiraled down the rabbit hole. So don’t tell me how bad she had it.”
My words had hurt him, and immediately I regretted them.
“I’m sorry, Brayden.” I wiped my eyes and shook my head. “I’m tired and stressed, and I was worried sick about you.”
“I know.” He squeezed my hand in his. “And I’m sorry too. You’re right. I wasn’t there, and I guess I probably don’t know half of what went on after I got locked up. But I don’t want our family to fall apart before I can see the light of day again.”
This was the Brayden special. He could say something like that at the moment, and without even meaning to put a guilt trip on me.
“I’ll try to keep in better contact with her,” I promised.
Brayden nodded, and the guard stepped forward.
“Time’s up.” He glanced at his watch. “The nurse will be in soon.”
Brayden gave me a weak smile and remained strong while I leaned over and hugged him. The guard cleared his throat, and I shot him a dirty look before stepping backwards.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” I promised. “First thing.”
“Okay, Brighton. Take care of yourself.”
“It’s not goodbye,” I emphasized. “It’s see you later.”
“Alright then,” he agreed. “See you later.”
***
When I walked back out of the hospital, Norma-Jean was waiting for me, ready to pounce. She paced back and forth in her cheap white heels, a cigarette hanging from her mouth as smoke billowed in the air around her. She had been pretty once, but looking at her now it was hard to tell. Her eyes had dulled to a stale shade of green while her skin had leathered and her hair turned to straw.
She cocked her head to the side and gave me a condescending smile as her eyes roamed over my clothing. I was wearing a pair of jeans and a pink cashmere sweater Ryland bought me, and suddenly, I wished I wasn’t.
“What’s with the clothes?”
“It was all I had on short notice,” I supplied.
“They look expensive,” she retorted, sniffing the air as though she could smell money rolling off of me. Norma-Jean had always turned up her nose at anything that looked expensive.
“Look, ma, do you want to know how Brayden’s doing or not?”
She narrowed her eyes at the term she hated, but I didn’t care. I was too tired for her antics.
“I already know,” she snapped. “Just cause’ you come in here looking all fancy, and they tell you, you think that makes you special? Well, guess what, I know my rights, and they have to tell me too. I’m his mother in case you forgot. You can change your clothes and the way you walk like you’re some big shot, but remember the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. You’ll come back here someday. Mark my words. And you’ll be as humble as all the rest of us little folks once you see how the world really works.”
I’d learned a long time ago it was better to pick my battles with Norma. And usually, I wouldn’t have blinked twice at her tone or her snide remarks. But today, it was the final straw. I was sick of her pushing me around. I was sick of everyone pushing me around. And so I opened my mouth and let all the vile hatred that I’d been storing up for two decades spew out.
