His chiseled jaw is clenched, nostrils flaring. But his eyes . . . pained and staring in disbelief. Hands up in surrender. My ugliness erupted from me and stained him.
In blood.
In actions.
In truth.
Her words are strained . . . jumbled. I’m staring at a wounded soul, and I pray I’m wrong.
Motionless. I can’t fucking function. Rip baseball from me, my friends . . . I’d give up anything to erase what she just shared. “Brecklynn?” She covers her face with her hands, and I want to pry them off, but I don’t want to scare her . . . or touch her without permission. “Look at me, please.”
There they are. The amethyst— it’s my kryptonite. My salvation and my demise wrapped in one. “Oh, God.” Her wails are my undoing. I hesitate and push through; touching her with a gentle stroke, I wrap her in my arms . . . and she doesn’t fight. She takes my comfort and in turn gives me her anguish. “I don’t know what set me off.”
“Did . . . did something happen to you?” The acid burns my throat, and I’m trying my hardest to wipe the image of her hurt from my mind.
I feel her head move against my shoulder, but she doesn’t answer me. “Can you tell me?” God, she needs to talk to me. My imagination is running wild.
“Minute.” The huskiness in her voice tells me she’s grappling with her control.
“Take what you need.” I run my hands over every inch I can, I count her breaths, her heartbeat. I listen to her whimpers, her distress. I feel her pain. I fucking soak it in and I’m drowning in it. “Want your brother?” I don’t want her to say yes, but I’ll give her what she needs.
“No.” It’s that simple, and it makes me feel like a superhero. She’s choosing me for her anchor, and I won’t let her sink.
I scoot back so I’m leaning against the wall . . . with her still cradled in the shelter I can give her. The noise is steady outside, and I don’t hear anyone roaming the halls looking for us, so I don’t press her for information. She’ll give it when she’s ready, and I’ll be here to take it. Closing my eyes, I inhale her scent. She’s bringing me the comfort I crave and need to be able to control myself. Whatever she has to say, I have a feeling it’s going to be monstrous . . . and unravel me.
“I told Emberlee wearing these suits would go over as well as putting socks on a rooster.” Her accent. Her word choice. I shouldn’t laugh at a time like this . . . but I do. “Seriously. It’s like she wants my brother to be prematurely grey.”
“Better that than premature ejaculation,” I quip.
“Experience? It’ll be okay, Mason. Most girls won’t care. I do, so this thing we have going, I’ll have to reconsider if that’s gonna be a long term issue.”
“Always a smart ass.” She giggles and places her head back on my shoulder. My lips seek her head and rest there.
“Sorry about your battle wounds.” Her fingers trace the scratches and I still them.
“Don’t be. It’s you I’m worried about.” The wait is killing me. It’s been minutes, but in this room, watching her fall to pieces, seeing her become sick with what torments her . . . it feels like fucking years.
“It’s nothing, I promise. Just a mini freak-out moment.” She scoffs, trying to downplay the volcanic eruption she spouted.
“Don’t do that. Don’t shut me out.” It’s like she’s dismissing me, and it makes me want to fight harder.
Silence isn’t golden in this instance. I release a frustrated grumble, and she slaps my chest. “What?”
“Innocent doesn’t become you, Doll. What happened outside? In here? Now?”
Her eyes roll so hard I feel the movement against my shoulder. “Like I said, Emberlee suggested we get these suits. I think it was her way of making sure you flipped shit and ousted us.” I grin. “I didn’t think you would.”
“Why?” My tone is clipped.
“Uh, we aren’t a couple. I didn’t know how’d you react.” She digs her head deeper in my neck.
“Not from my lack of trying to convince you to give this a chance. Was this a test?” The thought shocks me and scares me. I’ve never wanted to ace an exam as bad as this one.
Her shoulder rises as she tries to appear nonchalant. “Maybe subconsciously?”
“Did I pass?” Holy shit, I’m a fucking toddler wanting positive reinforcement for my behavior.
“I don’t think it’s a pass or fail kinda thing. You proved you’re serious when you tell me I drive you insane.” She nips my neck. “But, here isn’t what you’ll be facing at school. These people grew up with you. Your god-like status is old news.”
“Okay. Table this discussion. We’ll pick it up when I prove you wrong. Classes start in a week — prepare to be shocked.” I shoot her a wink, hoping my confident demeanor makes her believe I’m serious . . . that’ll prove her preconceived notions wrong. I want her to trust I’ll do right by her. “What made you break down like that? You scared the shit outta me.”
Her body shifts off mine, and she scoots a few feet back. “A few years ago I went to a college party with a friend. I was naïve. I didn’t know accepting alcohol from a guy was code for wanting to fuck. I didn’t know dancing, smiling, or flirting was an invitation for him to invite his friends along for the ride.”
“Jesus,” I bite. “It isn’t.”
“That night it was. My friend and I went in and were dancing and having fun like we’d do at any other party. She went to the bathroom and some guy approached me to dance. I didn’t think anything of it.” Her head drops, and I lift her chin up. She doesn’t need to hide. I don’t want her to feel shame. “After a few songs we went to the kitchen, and he poured me a drink. It didn’t seem strong, and I was a typical high school girl. I’d drank before. He started crowding me, and his friends were encouraging his behavior.” Her eyes close, and I damn near shed my skin because I don’t want her recalling that night.
“Hey. Look at me.” My face. My eyes. My mouth. Me. That’s where I want her focus. Erase the bad with the good.
Those glorious orbs pierce my chest. “I tried to make an excuse to go find Becky, my friend, but they blocked the exit. He asked me to share another drink with him and he’d leave me alone. I agreed because he started to back off. Rookie mistake number two. I accepted a second drink, and it was drugged. My first mistake was allowing Becky and I to be separated.” She swipes her face and clutches her hair. “I remember drinking and everything else is hazy until I woke up in the hospital.” Her last words are croaked, and I’m planning a trip to Texas in my mind. I am envisioning myself tearing this guy and his friends limb from limb.
“Brecklynn, can you come back over here?” I need her in my arms. It isn’t a want. It isn’t a craving. I physically need to touch her. To hold her. To keep myself together. Not her. I don’t want to startle her or grab her after what she’s just shared. I don’t know where she is in her mind.
“I’m okay.” Her reassuring tone doesn’t do a damn thing to calm the inferno raging through me.
“I’m not.” Truth. I’m so far from okay that some fucker hurt her. I’m beyond furious that there are assholes in this world who think this shit is okay. And I’m fucking gone that it was her.
It was her.
My mouth waters so I swallow the sour taste as she scurries to my lap and latches her body to mine.
To me.
“I hate asking this but . . .” Her fingers press into my lips.
“No. I woke up a short time after they got me to the room. I didn’t finish the drink, and I don’t remember this part. It’s what Becky told us. I screamed and fought. I made enough of a ruckus that a few partygoers came to my aid. It didn’t get to the point they could subdue me, and I was a lucky one. I was bruised from them hitting me trying to get me to settle down.”
Red.
It’s all I see.
“Easy.” She pulls at my wrists, and I release the grip I have, cussing at myself for the red marks I left on her skin. “I went to counseling
, and it hasn’t hindered me. I think at the pool, exposed, and with strange people it triggered something. Someone made a comment and I got lost in my head.”
“Who said something?” I’m scrambling to stand with her in my arms.
“I don’t know, and it was innocent. This was all my mind and memories. Calm down.” I put her feet on the floor and scrub my hands down my face.
“We’ll talk when I get back.” I’m twisting the doorknob when her hands grip my bicep.
“Where are you going? What are you gonna do? Mason, I don’t know who said what, but it isn’t their fault.” She’s pulling me, and I’m determined to exit this door.
I spin and take her face in my hands. “I’m going to get your brother. Caden. Deacon. And whoever else wants to come with me. Then I’m going to Texas.” I kiss her nose and try to exit. I’m raging pissed. I’ll hunt them down— each and every one of them. I don’t care how much time has passed— they dared to hurt her and I’ll end it. Or them.
Her grip becomes tighter. “Mason!” She bellows, and I stop, worried she needs me. “You can’t just hop a plane and go off on a tangent. It’s cute you’d catch a charge for me, but it’s been handled.”
“By who?” I cross my arms over my chest daring her to deter my need of handling this asshole.
“The police. He was sentenced to nine months probation and expelled from school.” Her hands go to her hips, challenging me. Always fucking challenging me.
“NINE months.” I choked. “Nine fucking months for putting his hands on you, and he’s still alive?”
“And got expelled from school.” She added. “Besides, it was before you knew me. Please, Mason, leave it alone.”
Fucking months when he scarred her for life. Dared to place his hands against her perfect skin in anger and dominance. I have a trip to plan. “What’s his name?”
“Not going there, Mason. Please, this isn’t going to fix anything.” It’ll fix something in me . . . the part that broke when she told me her reality.
“What do you expect me to do, Brecklynn? Sit here with my thumb up my ass knowing he and his friends tried to hurt you?” If that’s what she thinks, it’s preposterous.
“Exactly. I mean if a thumb up your ass is what gets you off, go for it. The past is the past.” Her foot taps, and I’m exasperated by her attitude.
“The past is the past, huh?” Smirking, she’s talking herself into a corner she won’t be able to maneuver herself from.
“Yes. Glad you’re listening.” Sass and splendor. She’s both wrapped in a hot ass package.
“I’m hearing you. Did you hear yourself?” I take her hand and pull her to me. “The past is the past. It was before I knew you. Just like those girls you’re so sure I’m gonna run to are the past. Prior to meeting you.” What’s good for the goose is good for the gander.
“Oh,” she gasps. Add smart to her list of attributes. “It isn’t the same thing.”
I guffaw. “Past means the same thing in every dictionary. Your past. My past. It’s all irrelevant, right? If not, I have a flight to catch.”
“You aren’t reasonable.” She huffs.
“When it comes to you? Not even a little. Are we clear?”
“Any more and the crystal would be non-existent.” She pouts.
“So, we good?” I implore.
“Yes.” Her smile thaws the anger I’ve had since this day started.
“No. Are we good? Going public? Doing this thing?” She swallows and sighs.
“Let me break it to my brother first.”
“Three days.” That’s before school starts, and I want to flaunt the shit outta her when the day comes.
“One week.”
“No.” I’m hell-bent on telling our friends. Our foes. Hell, I’d write the government if I thought they’d give a shit.
“I’ll make it worth your while.” Her purr and hand rubbing my dick is forcing me to rethink the extra two days.
“Two more days?” She cackles.
“A week is seven days, Einstein.” Oh hell no. I don’t care if she offers to drop to her knees and suck me dry.
“Three days,” I insist.
She drops to her knees.
My dick in her mouth.
I agree to seven long-ass days.
“Checkmate.” She smiles as we rejoin the party.
“So your brother knows.” His voice and the slam of the door wake me. And I still feel like death warmed over.
“What?” I moan.
“Shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. Do you need anything?” My eyes tear because I hate being sick. I miss my mom rubbing my back, combing her fingers through my hair and babying me.
“My mom.” A tear slides down my cheek, and he’s at my side.
“Doll, what can I do?” His voice is pleading.
“Hold me.” He jostles the bed as he gets comfortable, which forces me to run to the bathroom. He’s chasing after me, and I slam the door. He’s held my hair once while I puked . . . and it’s enough.
I emerge from the bathroom to the room darkened, a trashcan by the bed, and a room temperature bottle of water. We stayed at Emberlee’s last night, or what she still refers to her house, and Mason stayed close. No wonder Brody clued in to our secret. I can’t be mad . . . I don’t have the energy. “Thank you.”
“I brought the water from my house. Seems everyone who drinks the water here gets pregnant.” He guides me to the bed and uses his chest as my pillow.
“You can’t get pregnant from drinking water. Emberlee told y’all?” My body feels like lead and I’m sluggish.
“I know how you get pregnant.” Mid-rub to my back his hand stills. “You don’t think you are?” Oh, Lord. Let a girl vomit a few times and she’s with child.
“No. But I think your sperm made me sick. It was the last thing I swallowed before I ended up like this.” His laughter jiggles me. “Stop moving or leave.”
“You’re grumpy when you’re sick.” He continues his rubbing.
“If you felt like an elephant was popping a squat on your chest, a swarm of bees in your stomach, and enough snot running from your nose you could stop the drought in California, you wouldn’t be Laughing Lola.” I close my eyes praying for sleep.
No such luck. “Well, that’s pleasant. What are we gonna do with your brother?”
“Nothing. He knows. Just let it be, and if you’re still alive tomorrow we continue as we were, without hiding. Now, be quiet. I need sleep.” I feel him pull me a bit closer as I drift to sleep.
One freaking week of classes and I’m exhausted. I don’t think getting the flu helped at all, but I’m managing. Mason’s being attentive and parading me like I’m fucking arm candy. We’re gonna talk soon regarding his activities. His reasoning is clear. He doesn’t want me to have insecurities, and as an added bonus, it deters any males from looking at me.
The one bright side is my photography course. I’ve been able to use school codes to gain access to new editing sites, and I’m expanding my portfolio every day. I’m tired of the back and forth from the house to the apartment. Brody hates it when I ask to stay by myself, so now that Mason and I aren’t hiding, it may help ease his worries.
“I’m heading to the store, need anything?” Brody stands over my shoulder, annoying me.
“Soda, please.” I don’t acknowledge him as I’m in depth with editing.
He sits next to me and grabs my laptop. “I need to talk to you.” I fall back to the cushions in dramatic flair. “You feeling better?”
“Yeah. All better. Thanks.” I sit to take my computer back, but he moves it above his head. “Good Lord, get to it.”
“This thing with Mason. It’s fucking with me. I’m scared it’s going to blow up in all our faces.” Ah, he’s cute. He thinks it pertains to him.
“Not your concern, Brody. If it does, it’s on me and Mason. You don’t need to get involved.” Last I checked, I can vote and join the service. That would make me an adult.
“I’m serious. You get involved, and you’ll blow your relationship with Lee Lee up. If he hurts me, I’ll deal. If I hurt him, he’ll deal. We know what we’re doing. Both of us know we’re playing with fire— we struck the match, but you don’t need to pour the gasoline.” I shove him and admit my nagging fear. “School has started, and it may fizzle. It may work. Worry about yourself.”
“Never.” He leans over and ruffles my hair. Like I’m two. “I will back off, but if he hurts you, I’ll lose my mind.”
“You do that and get ready for every other weekend visits. She loves you. She loves her friends. That isn’t a fair choice for you to place on her. I’ll support her when she leaves your ass.” I know I shocked him, but I’m serious. He needs to back off.
“You serious?” His wounded expression is pitiful.
“Yes. Not because I don’t love you, but because I love you enough to call you out on your mistakes.” I smile and go for the kill. I learned from the best. “It hurts me more than it hurts you.”
“Hate you.”
“Hate you, more. Don’t forget my soda, and give me my work.” I grab my laptop and lose myself in the images and distorting them.
My phone is dinging within five seconds of Mason texting me.
Mason: I need a hug.
Me: Wrap your arms around your middle and squeeze. I’m busy.
Mason: You misunderstood.
Me: Pretty sure I read English just fine. I’m a college girl, now.
Mason: My penis needs a hug from your vagina.
What does this boy smoke? He’s ridiculous. I pick up the phone, and surprisingly he answers. He’d communicate solely by text if he could.
“What is wrong with you?” I’m laughing through my irritation.
Karma (Endgame Series Book 3) Page 6
