A Cross to Bear

by Julieanne Lynch

  “No woman of mine will ever have to pay for their food, not when they’re with me,” he replied, and grinned.

  “You smooth talker!” Bree giggled and grabbed her bag.

  “Well, what can I say?” His eyes met hers. “I’m still holding you to that little game of R&R we talked about earlier,” Logan joked, much to Bree’s amusement.

  She bit down on her bottom lip, excited about what was soon to come. “I suppose we could take a detour on the way back to yours.”

  “Hmm, a detour with a bang?”

  Bree couldn’t help it. She burst into laughter and tried to compose herself as they left the restaurant toward Logan’s car.

  Logan held the door open and waited until Bree was comfortable before getting in behind the wheel.

  “So where to, Miss Daisy?” he asked.

  “Hmm, surprise me.”

  Nodding and smiling, Logan drove off in search of private place for a little in-car entertainment. It only took about ten minutes to find a nice secluded spot.

  Bree undid her seatbelt once Logan switched off the engine. She was eager to please her man and didn’t bat an eyelash knowing the two security men were mere yards away. “I need you in the back seat, now,” she purred and clambered into the rear seat. She removed her thong from under her skirt.

  Logan climbed in behind her and cupped her ass with his hands, pulling her onto his lap. “Fuck, you make me so horny,” he whispered. His warm breath danced along her collarbone.

  She slid her mouth across his, kissing him hard. “Ditto.” She moaned and broke the kiss, undoing the belt of his jeans and sliding them down. “I want you inside me.”

  Bree trailed her hand along Logan’s rigid length and straddled him, pressing herself against the thick head. Another deep kiss followed.

  He grabbed her hips and slammed her down onto him.

  The explosion of heat and pleasure as he filled her made her moan even more as their noses touched.

  Pumping her hips in a swift motion, Bree couldn’t resist any longer, and rode him as hard as she could move. She rubbed her clit against his soft pubic hair, the quickening sensation building up as she drew close to her first orgasm. Her nails dug into his strong shoulders, their mouths meeting eagerly for panting kisses.

  He cupped her ass cheeks and thrust into her, each movement, harder than the last.

  Bree gazed into Logan’s eyes. The wave of pleasure swept through her.

  “Yes… Oh God… Yes!” she moaned, losing herself in the throes of her climax. “You’re going to come in my mouth, Logan,” Bree said. “I need you in my mouth. I need to taste you.”

  Logan smiled, surrounded by the intense pleasure. “Then you’d better start sucking it now, because this is making me crazy and I’m about to blow.”

  Bree pulled herself off him, then positioned herself across the back seat and took his wet cock in her hand. She slid her tongue upward from his balls, teasing the head of his cock. She tasted herself on him. It made her want his cum in her mouth all the more.

  Logan trembled and gasped.

  Bree devoured him, sucking relentlessly.

  He took her head in his hands and fucked her face, meeting her every downward bob with a hard thrust.

  Bree took him to the back of her throat and swallowed as much of him as she could. She felt him tense and could tell he was unable to hold back a moment longer. Bree fondled his balls as the first hot spurts of cum spilled into her mouth. She swallowed hard, relishing the taste of him and enjoying his twitching beneath her.

  Logan rested his head back against the seat rest, closing his eyes and waiting for his breathing to regulate. A smile spread across his face. He pulled Bree into his arms.

  Hot, sweating, and not caring about the world outside of the car, they kissed.

  “That was unbelievable,” Logan mumbled.

  “What can I say? I like how you make me feel. It’s only natural that I repay the kindness,” Bree responded, and giggled.

  Bree sat in silence for the longest time, holding Logan’s hands. She wasn’t in a rush to get back to reality. Being lost in the moment was all it took to cure her life of its burdens, if only for a while.

  * * * *

  The GAP house was quiet by the time they got back. Bree decided to brave the storm and spend the night in the house.

  Logan assured her that if Ethan stepped out of line, he’d mess up his pretty little face. To Logan’s amusement, Bree was down with that end of the bargain.

  “Do you want something to eat or drink?” he asked before they retreated to his room.

  “No, I’m good. My thirst and appetite have been well and truly quenched,” she replied, chuckling.

  “You minx!” He pulled her under his arm as they raced up the stairs.

  Once they reached the top, a slight breeze came from down the hall. Logan let go of Bree.

  “Go to my room. I’ll be right there,” he said.

  Bree considered doing what he asked, but something inside her refused to listen. She couldn’t help herself, especially when something didn’t feel right.

  Logan walked down the hall, checking the doors of the rooms to his right. He came to a stop in front of the door that led to Drake’s room. The breeze was clearly coming from inside the room.

  “I can’t believe he went and left a window open,” Logan complained. “He knows that’s against the house rules.”

  “Logan, I don’t think he wants you in there,” Bree remarked, full of nervousness.

  Logan ignored her and opened the door. He stepped inside and looked about the room. It was clean and tidy. Nothing was out of place. The window was open wide, letting the cool March breeze in. He moved across the room to close the window, and the door of the closet creaked.

  Bree peered into the room and watched Logan turn in its direction. A wave of apprehension consumed her.

  Logan swallowed and stared at the closet. He reached out and opened the door.

  Drake’s body swung forward. A rope was wrapped around his neck. An ashen pallor covered every inch of his face.

  Bree was aware of her screams echoing through the house.

  Logan ran toward Drake and tried to lift his legs in the hopes of loosening the rope’s grip around Drake’s throat.

  The ligature marks around his neck were a bluish-purple color. Drake’s frozen eyes stared into nothingness.

  “No, no, no!” Logan cried. He let go of Drake and dropped to his knees. Logan hunched over and held onto his stomach.

  Bree sobbed, the internal pain gripped her from within. She stared at Drake’s lifeless body, shocked and sickened by the very idea of him wanting to do this.

  Shouts sounded in the distance. Several of Logan’s fraternity mates rushed into the room.

  “Get him down, please!” Logan cried, struggling against someone’s hold as they tried to pull him out of the room.

  Nothing made sense to Bree. She knelt on the floor crying, trying to reach for Logan, but he was lost in his sudden grief. There was nothing she could do.

  Bree hated how the house was filled with a sense of dread and despair as the news began to hit everyone. In the span of fifteen minutes, she observed the emergency crew walking in and out of the house. Technicians were on their phones. Cameras flashed outside, and the news of Drake’s death spread fast.

  * * * *

  Logan and Bree sat in the kitchen. Both were being questioned by the cops, as well as the medical technicians.

  Spence made his appearance. He ran into the house and tried to climb the stairs, but was stopped along the way.

  “I’m sorry, but you can’t go up there,” a young police officer said, standing in Spence’s way.

  “What? I don’t understand,” he remarked, trying to make sense of everything. “That’s my best friend up there. You’ve got to let me up!”

  Bree left the kitchen. She stared at him and saw the realization wash over him.

  “I’m so sorry,” Bree cried as they h
ugged. “I just can’t believe it.”

  “What happened?” Spence asked, tears streaming down his face.

  Shaking her head, Bree looked at him, unable to say anything to help ease the anguish. “I don’t know. We got back from dinner, came home and found him. Oh my God, it was so horrible, Spence!” Bree broke down again in Spence’s arms, holding on to him for dear life.

  “Where’s Logan?”

  “In the kitchen being questioned.” She wiped her face, catching sight of Tommy and Russell as they came in through the open front door.

  “Is it true?” Tommy asked. He looked as if he’d seen a ghost.

  “Yup,” Bree answered, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks.

  “Jesus Christ!” Tommy muttered, running his hands through his hair, finding it hard to process the information. “Where’s Logan?”

  “Being questioned,” Bree repeated.

  “Why? Do they suspect foul play?” Tommy glared at Bree.

  “No, asshole, it was Logan who found him.” Bree went back to the kitchen.

  Tempers were frayed, hearts were broken and emotions were all over the place. Even though Bree had convinced herself that she was able to cope, she found herself slipping. She didn’t know how to confront the pain she experienced. Logan needed her now more than ever, but she didn’t know the first thing to do to help him.

  After what seemed like hours, Drake’s body was carried down the stairs.

  The silence was horrible. Bree found it hard to watch the stretcher with the black body bag on top being wheeled out of the front door.

  Ethan remained in the sidelines, chewing his gum and acting indifferent. He was the only one in the entire house who didn’t appear to be moved by the untimely death.

  Bree looked at him. They made eye contact.

  He winked at her and sat down, completely disrespecting Drake.

  Nothing incensed her more. She shook her head at him and made her way to the front porch.

  “I can’t believe this,” Spence said, taking a seat beside Logan.

  Logan watched the coroner’s van drive off, the police cars following close behind it. “I should have been here.”

  Spence looked at him, his eyebrows dipping low across his forehead. “And what?”

  “He might still be here.”

  Bree sat down on the other side of Logan, touching the back of his hand. “None of us know that, Logan,” she said, a wave of nausea rising to the back of her throat.

  “No, maybe not, but at least he wouldn’t have been alone. Someone would have been here.” Logan gulped. “At least he would have had someone to turn to, but instead we were all too selfish to give a fuck and he had no one.”

  “That’s not fair, man,” Spence said. His hands trembled, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

  “You know what’s not fair?” Logan shouted. “Our best friend is heading to the morgue, and now a family has to bury their son. How fucking fair is that?”

  Logan stormed away from the house. He headed straight for his car, leaving Bree and Spence behind.

  They held hands. They were aware that Logan had been damaged by what he’d seen moments ago.

  “But he wasn’t alone, Bree. Ethan has been here all evening,” Spence said, looking at her.

  “What?”

  “Yup, that smug bastard has been here the entire time.”

  Bree let go of Spence and pushed herself to her feet, marching back into the house. The entire household had been called into the living room for a meeting, but that didn’t stop Bree.

  “You’re a cold-blooded bastard, Ethan!” she roared, smacking him hard across the face.

  “Whoa, what the fuck?” he shouted, pushing his face against hers.

  “If anyone is looking to blame someone for this, look no further than your vice president. He was here the entire time.”

  “Bree, you need to calm down,” Tommy said, putting some distance between the two. “Is this true?” He directed the question to Ethan.

  “I don’t know, possibly,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders. “I probably was, but that doesn’t mean I know anything.”

  “Fuck you, Ethan. I hope you get what’s coming for you,” Bree cried. “You have Drake’s blood on your hands. You may not know it, but you’re no better than a murderer.”

  “Bree, you need to leave, now,” Tommy warned.

  “Don’t worry, I’m going. I can’t stand being here another moment.”

  Bree picked up her bag from the front table and left the GAP house. She went back toward her dorm, never imagining the grip grief would have on her.

  She became aware of her own mortality and dreaded the thought of her own premature demise. Making a promise to herself, she vowed to be strong. To be the one to pull Logan back from the brink of depression. Sometimes, there was no predicting how low a person was willing to go, not until it was too late.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  It was hard to think straight. I tried to find my way through the fog that had settled in my head, nothing made sense.

  The days following Drake’s death were some of the worst days I’d ever lived through. I tried my best to focus, to carry on, as he’d want me to. I was numb from the pain and grief, crying became a thing I couldn’t face doing. Because once the tears came, it wouldn’t be long until I’d hit the bottle and drown my sorrows. My life seemed to come to a standstill. Gone was the drive and ambition. In its place was the shell of a young man who hardly understood where his life would take him next.

  Normal, routine things became difficult and tough to comprehend. It was like having a bad flu and walking around when I felt weak and off balance. I wanted to sleep, but when I slept, the rest evaded me, leaving me drained in its wake.

  It was a vicious cycle. An endless, continuous spiral that refused let go of me.

  Standing outside Drake’s door, I wanted to go in, sit on his bed, and think. The more I thought, the more I ached. A part of me convinced itself that if I addressed his death, I would find a way of moving forward.

  Sadly, I was wrong.

  * * * *

  “Logan.” Spence’s voice came from the other side of my door.

  “Go away, Spence. I’m tired,” I shouted, lying on my bed and staring at the ceiling.

  “We’re leaving in ten minutes,” he said.

  “I’m not going.”

  “Logan, you have to.” He opened the door to my room.

  I looked at him and closed my eyes, trying my best not to cry. “I can’t face it.”

  “Tough, because you have to, okay?” He was adamant in making me do exactly what he wanted me to do.

  I sat up and swung my legs off the edge of my bed, holding my hands together. “I’m not strong like you or the other guys. I’m not cut out for funerals.”

  Spence sat down beside me and gripped my shoulder. He glanced at me, then at the photograph on my desk.

  “We had a good time that day,” he remarked with a smile on his face. “He was so happy.”

  “Look where his happiness led him,” I spat angrily.

  “Logan, people aren’t always able to be saved. Drake made that clear to us. He got stuck in the darkness and wouldn’t accept help. What more could you or I, or anyone, have done?”

  I shook my head. The fog’s swirling sensation filled my head.

  “But how do we know?”

  “We don’t, and we never will.” He got to his feet and stared down at me. “But you will get your shit together and pay respects to him and his family. That much you can do. If you loved him, then you show him that, because my faith tells me he’ll be looking down on us all today.”

  Spence refused to leave, not until I was dressed in the suit my father had sent me and I was in the car along with him and Bree.

  The two-hour drive to Cincinnati was excruciating.

  Bree held my hand, trying her best to ease my apprehension, but nothing could take the away the edge.

  Spence wore the dread on
his face, the sweat collecting on his brow. His hands trembled and his eyes nervously twitched.

  We stepped out of the car and made our way to the Chapel of Rest.

  Heat erupted across the back of my neck. Seeing the sad faces of my fellow peers, Coach, and Drake’s family made his death so much more real.

  The sorrowful ambience affected me from the outset. The metallic taste in my mouth caused the bile to rise to the back of my throat. It took all of my willpower to breathe through the sadness pooling in my stomach.

  The black attire, the tears from the immediate family, right down to the sadness from a group of small children overwhelmed me. I tried to retain my tears and continuously told myself that I wouldn’t cry.

  I was successful until I glanced at Bree and Spence walking ahead of me to the casket. Tears poured from their eyes.

  “I’m so terribly sorry,” Bree whispered, and turned away.

  The fear of seeing Drake lying in the coffin made me tremble. I stepped up to the casket and looked down at the once cocky, funny and intelligent man I’d come to call my friend. I couldn’t hold back my emotions and I crumbled.

  “I wish you’d told me how you were feeling,” I whispered, eyeing his pale face, the dark blue suit doing nothing for his complexion.

  He looked like Drake, but it wasn’t him. It was just his shell.

  It hurt to know that he’d shut me out of his life. I tried to tell myself that he was only protecting me. But deep down inside, I knew he’d made up his mind long before he’d hanged himself.

  In hindsight, a real friend would have seen his internal struggle. No one could have been that good an actor, right? And even when I tried to cushion myself from the reality of it all, the fact remained that he was still cold and gone forever. No amounts of ‘what if’s or ‘why’ could bring him back.

  This was the last time I would ever see him. Something snapped inside me.

  * * * *

  As they lowered Drake’s coffin into the ground, I glanced around me. The devastation was clear on the faces of friends and family as they struggled to keep themselves composed.