Mistake

by K. Webster

  “All right, Whitty. Into the shower,” I instruct as I hold my hand out to her.

  She eyes it tearfully and then looks back up at me. “You called me Witty. That’s what you used to always call me when we had sex. You do love me—just like Rhonda said,” she says hopefully.

  I groan and shake my head. “Sorry, Whit. I don’t love you. Sure, I care about you as a person, but I don’t love you. Now get into the shower.”

  She begins bawling her eyes out but makes no moves to stand. Finally, I pull her to her feet again, but she’s so unsteady that she can barely remain upright. When I sit her back down on the toilet, she claws at the painted flesh on her belly.

  I’m going to have to get in with her. Fuck.

  Tearing off my shirt and tossing it to the floor, I try not to think about what Opal would say. I know for a fact she’d be pissed as fuck. She just can’t know.

  Like she didn’t tell you about lunch with Trent?

  With a grumble, I push my jeans down and step out of them, but I keep my boxers on. Once my socks are gone, I slide my hands under her arms and lift her. It’s a challenge, but I finally manage to make it into the shower with her. The moment the warm water hits her back, she snakes her arms around my neck and hugs me.

  Reaching down, I grab the bar of soap and begin washing her back and ass since she’s holding on at the moment. The paint is crusted on, but it eventually starts to rinse away. I pull away, making sure she won’t fall, and wash the rest of her. Her huge tits no longer turn me on—nothing about her is a turn-on anymore. In fact, she’s disgusting and needs help. Not long ago, I was disgusting too.

  I continue to scrub until I’ve managed to clean most of the paint off and wash the vomit out of her hair, I reach to turn off the water, but she tightens her hold around my neck.

  “Thad, I need you,” she whines.

  Shaking my head, I start to push her away from me. One of her hands, lightning fast, slips down into my boxers and grips my dick.

  “Let me get you hard, baby,” she purrs.

  “Whitney, no. Take your hand out of my shorts. Let’s get you to bed.”

  She whimpers and reluctantly releases my flaccid cock. I’m so ready to be out of this fucking apartment and back with Opal. I quickly dry her off and wrap her in a towel. Turning away from her, I drop my boxers and proceed to redress.

  “You’re so hot,” she whispers. She’s always had a thing for my ass and right now it’s in her face.

  I roll my eyes and pull my jeans up, ending her show. After my clothes are on, I slide an arm around her and guide her out of the bathroom, past the now snoring freaky fuckers, and into the living room. Once we reach the couch, she crawls onto it and curls up. With a sigh, I snatch a blanket from the loveseat and cover her with it.

  “Are you going to be okay?” I ask as I look her over. She hasn’t thrown up anymore and she seems much more lucid now.

  “Yes. Thank you, Thad.”

  I nod and start to leave. Before I get to the door, I stop and turn around. “Whit?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What happened that night? The night before I left for rehab?” I question softly.

  She sits up and looks at me over the back of the couch. “With Brittney?”

  I wince at the name. I hope to God that chick was not underage.

  “Yep. What did we do?”

  She grins and cocks a brow up at me. “You were going to fuck both me and my cousin. I got jealous though and told her she could suck your dick but you were going to fuck me only.”

  My relief is loud and clear knowing I didn’t sleep with the random girl.

  “How old is Brittney? Did you and I use a condom?”

  She laughs. “Brittney is the same age as me—twenty-four. And after she sucked you off, I watched her slide the condom on you. Why? Want to do it again?”

  Shaking my head, I give her a slight wave. “Never.”

  I’m sitting in Dad’s Lexus, which is parked on the street in front of my parents’ home, at five fucking thirty in the morning. After I left Kurt’s, I was going to slip back into Opal’s apartment undetected, but several reasons stopped me. For one, I didn’t have a key and had locked up behind me. I’d have had to call her or knock—and I wasn’t at all prepared to explain where I’d been. The second reason was that my hair was soaking wet and disheveled on my head, I was no longer wearing underwear, and I had red paint under each of my fingernails. It looked bad. I need time to regroup before I see her again.

  Sighing, I send her a text.

  Me: Hey, babe. Left bright and early to grab a change of clothes and a shower at my parents’. Meeting a deliveryman at the property to receive the kitchen appliances. I’m still not sold on the idea of you having lunch with my brother. You’re mine, not his, but I trust you. I’ll call you later.

  It isn’t a total lie. I do need a shower and a change of clothes. The deliveryman is bringing the appliances but not until noon. And she is mine, not his. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

  I climb out of the car and quietly slip into my parents’ house. With it being an early Friday morning, they’re both up. I try to sneak past the parlor, where they’re having coffee and reading the news on their devices, but my mother’s voice halts me.

  “Thaddeus, darling, is that you?”

  I am in no way, shape or form her darling. Groaning, I turn and step into the parlor.

  “Hey. I have a full day of work today—just need to grab a quick shower before I head out,” I tell her and then turn on my heel.

  “It looks to me as if you’ve already had a shower. Where were you?” she questions.

  Dad must be curious about our exchange because he has abandoned looking at what I know is the stock market to put his attention on me.

  “Oh, uh, yeah. I just need to change. I was over at O—over at my girlfriend’s house,” I rush out. For some reason, I stop myself from verbalizing her name. It will only start a barrage of questions and accusations. She’ll learn for herself of our relationship tonight at the benefit.

  “Whitney? That trashy whore you used to date?”

  I bristle at her remark. Whitney has problems, but calling her a trashy whore is unfair.

  “No,” I answer through gritted teeth.

  “Good. I hope you are being responsible. The last thing this family needs is an unplanned pregnancy. Were you drinking?”

  I shake my head. “No. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be in my room.”

  She holds up a slender hand to stop me. “Do not embarrass me tonight at the benefit. Make sure to tell your girlfriend to wear a cocktail dress. There’s a suit in your closet upstairs. Tonight, a journalist from The New York Times will be interviewing our family for a huge piece they are doing on me and my practice. I’ll expect you to be on your very best behavior. If they didn’t know I had two children, I’d just ask you not to come at all. However, those nits know everything so now I must work with the hand I’ve been dealt.”

  Rage nearly explodes from me. “The hand you’ve been dealt? Do you realize you just referred to your son as a fucking nuisance?”

  “That’s enough, son,” Dad snaps.

  I’m surprised to see anything but an easygoing smile on his face. It only confirms that he isn’t as innocent as I always thought. No, he just always chooses her over me—like Trent.

  “It’s the truth and you know it,” I mumble.

  When I look up at my mother, her smile is perfect—perfectly twisted. “See you at seven, darling.”

  “Are you sure everything’s okay?” I ask Thad over the phone as I pick up my purse to leave for lunch. Trent texted moments before and said that he was in the parking garage of Compton Enterprises, waiting to take me to lunch.

  “Everything’s great. I can’t wait to see you tonight. I’ll pick you up at six thirty and then we can head to the event.” His voice is overly perky. I don’t trust the tone. Something is up.

  Stopping in my tracks, I attempt to
address the problem again. “Are you uncomfortable about my meeting him for lunch?”

  He groans loudly. “Actually, yes, but I know it needs to be done.”

  I look down at my toes, which are peeking out of my sandals. “Thad, I don’t have to go.”

  He instructs someone to move a ladder so the deliveryman can get past. “No, O, it’s fine. Just don’t fuck him.”

  His comment stings and I bite my lip.

  “Shit. I’m sorry. Today is just a stressful day and I’m going on little sleep. I’ll talk to you after work,” he grumbles out his apology.

  The dial tone lets me know that he hung up on me. Tears burn my eyes, but I quickly blink them away. He most certainly is not telling me something. I’ll get to the bottom of it when I see him later.

  I’m consumed by my thoughts the entire elevator ride down to the parking lot—so much so that, when the door opens and someone speaks to me, I nearly jump out of me skin.

  “Thank you for meeting me,” Trent’s voice booms from behind me.

  I sigh, relieved, because ever since last night, when I found out that Drake was going to be released soon, I’ve been jumpy. “It’s no big deal.”

  His hand finds the small of my back and he guides me to his car. Then we both remain awkwardly quiet during the entire car ride to the Thai restaurant around the corner, the one I’ve been to several times with Bray and Olive. It isn’t until we’ve both ordered and are sipping our sodas that either of us speaks again.

  “So,” I say softly as I roll the paper of the straw between my thumb and finger.

  He groans. “So.”

  When my eyes find his, he appears to be completely uncomfortable, so I wait for him to continue.

  “Opal, I’m sorry. We never should have slept together. We were drunk—it meant nothing.” His voice is firm.

  The old me would have been devastated at his words. The old me would have tried to convince him otherwise. This is the new me. The new me doesn’t make dumb mistakes anymore.

  “You’re right, Trent. We’re better off as friends. I went four years thinking it was you I wanted, but now, I know for a fact that it’s not. I want someone else and I’ve never been surer.”

  He slides a hand through his perfect, blond hair, and I’m shocked to see him mess it up.

  “My brother?”

  The smile is already on my face before I can stop it. “Yes.”

  His eyes darken and his voice carries a protective edge—protective over me. “Opal, are you sure you want to get involved in that mess?”

  Anger flares inside my chest. “That mess? Trent, that mess is your brother. I care for him deeply.”

  He shakes his head in frustration. “I didn’t mean to insult you. It’s just that I’ve known him my entire life. All he does is mess shit up. He’s unpredictable. You’re sweet, little Opal—the girl who has it all figured out. Has her life all planned out. You are going somewhere, unlike my brother. You have a chance at a full life. Don’t let him and his inner demons drag you down with him.”

  My mind is flooded with images of Thad—the daily struggles he goes through are always so clearly written on his face. His green eyes constantly war between walking the line and giving in to his addictions. He’s flawed, but I love that about him—I love that he’s real and still strong despite those flaws.

  “I’m sorry, but your brother is a good person no matter what you think you know about him. Yes, the man suffers with compulsions to use. Every day is a challenge for him, but he perseveres. I’ve seen the way he tries to hide the fact that he stares at my medicine cabinet, knowing a full bottle of painkillers sits on the other side. But he doesn’t touch them. And when he did mess up and had a drink, he felt remorse. He wants to do better—he just needs proper support. Unfortunately, his own family has their heads so far up their asses that they can’t extend a helping hand. Ever. How about being a loving big brother to him? He wants to connect with you. Why you would push out that tenderhearted, beautiful man is beyond me.” There, I’ve said my piece. Trent cannot keep treating his brother like a pile of shit.

  With a sigh, he squeezes his eyes shut before opening them up and glancing guiltily back over at me. “Shit. You’re right. I’m sorry. I do want to help him—truly, I do. I just worry about you. I’ve looked after you and tried to be a good mentor to you while you were in school. You’re like a little sister. I’m just looking out for you.”

  I suppress a shudder. We slept together and he thought of me as some kid the whole time. The old me would have keeled over with a heart attack at the humiliation. The new me swallows her pride and looks him dead in the eye.

  “You don’t have to worry about me, Trent. I’m a grown-ass woman. Your brother, on the other hand, could use your love and support. Promise me you’ll try.”

  He nods without hesitation. “I’ll try. I promise.”

  The server drops off our food, and after we dig in, Trent speaks again.

  “Maybe we can be friends, Opal? I don’t want to lose your friendship over this. I still care about what happens to you.”

  I smile. For once, the word doesn’t make me cringe. “I’d like that.”

  The rest of our meal is light and we chat about what has never been a difficult topic for us—finance. When the server brings our check, he flips open his wallet and my eyes land on a picture safely protected by a plastic holder.

  “Who’s that?” I ask nosily. We’re friends now, so I should know these things, and right now, I want to know about the cute woman with curly, blond hair in his wallet.

  His face turns slightly red. “Cassidy. My ex-girlfriend.”

  My nose scrunches in confusion. Carrying around a picture of an ex seems odd.

  “Why is she your ex?”

  He shakes his head, and I don’t miss the bitter tone in her voice. “She told me one night, the night I proposed, that we should see other people. Cass broke my heart.” After tossing a couple of twenties on the table, he stands and stuffs the wallet in his pocket.

  I can see his distress as he storms quickly from the table. Once I bounce out of the booth, I chase after him.

  “I didn’t mean to be nosy, Trent. If she broke your heart, why do you carry her around in your pocket every day?” I question.

  He doesn’t answer until he’s emerged from the restaurant. “Because I just can, okay? I loved her. When she left me, it was so random. She crushed me.”

  Tears fill my eyes for him. That woman truly broke him.

  “Why didn’t you go after her?”

  A sigh rushes from him and his shoulders slump. “I don’t know. My pride got in the way.”

  Upon walking over to him, I envelop him in a hug. The hug is nothing but a friend comforting a friend. “I’m sorry. You’ll find love again.”

  With a soft sweep of his hand along the hair hanging down my back, he whispers, “Thank you. I’m glad that you found it.”

  Is he right?

  Do I love Thad?

  Thad is normally panty-melting hot, but tonight, he’s panty-exploding hot. The man looks sexy and dangerous wearing his black formalwear. His normally disheveled hair has been gelled into a style that just begs to be messed up. I love how I can see one of the tiger claws barely peeking out above the collar. Because, even though he’s conforming to the rules of the dress code, he is deep down a rebel—my rebel.

  “Have I told you how fucking beautiful you are?” Thad asks for about the ninth time since he picked me up for the benefit.

  I borrowed one of Andi’s cocktail dresses—a cream-colored, sleeveless, form-fitting dress that is floor length. It cinches on the left side of my waist and is adorned with pearls and rhinestones. She’d suggested this dress first, but I didn’t agree on it—even though it was my favorite—because I wanted to try on all of her other dresses first. That woman has more clothes than Jackson has Harry Potter memorabilia. Walking into her closet is a million times better than any store in New York City. She’s a few inches shorter th
an I am, but this dress works because I’m wearing low heels, whereas she wore it with four-inch hooker heels.

  “I think you mentioned it once,” I tease and lean over to peck his cheek. “You’re pretty hot yourself.”

  His scruff is beginning to grow out again, and I clench the muscles of my sex as we walk, forcing away the thought of his prickly cheeks scratching the inner parts of my thighs as he tastes me.

  He stops before we enter the banquet hall of the hotel. “You’re so fucking hot, woman. You’re like my very own Oreo—dark-chocolate goodness on the outside with a creamy, delicious-as-fuck center. Maybe we should bail and let me have a bite,” he growls and dips his lips to my exposed neck.

  Whatever was upsetting him earlier has seemed to disappear. He seems drunk, but not from any alcohol—he’s drunk on me. I’m not complaining one bit about the needful way he gently sucks on my neck.

  “Ah,” I moan softly. “You might have to bite several times to make sure I taste good.”

  His hands slide around my ass and he jerks me to him. My nipples have hardened and feel sensitive as the material of my dress scratches them. Unfortunately, a voice douses our moment in ice water.

  “Thaddeus darling, what did I say about not embarrassing me? Making out with your girlfriend in public would fall into the category of embarrassing things,” Dr. Sutton coldly snaps from behind us.

  When my eyes reluctantly find hers, she glares at me.

  “Oh, it’s you again. I see you’re fast making your way through my family. Stay away from my husband.”

  I blink several times in shock. Thad’s entire body tenses and he whirls around. I know he’s dead set on defending my honor, but she’s already stepped inside of the event and into the crowd of people.

  “Fuck. I’m so sorry, O. You didn’t deserve that,” he growls as he turns back to look at me.

  I shake away her nastiness and stand on my tiptoes to kiss his nose. “It’s okay. Remember, my mom is just like her. I can handle it.”

  His hands skim up to my neck and he slips his thumbs under my chin, lifting my face to his. I nearly melt under his heated gaze. God, this man does things to me. He dips his lips to mine and kisses me so deeply that my knees wobble. If we were at my place, I’d let him do things to my body—very, dirty things. His phone rings in his pocket, startling the both of us, and he tenses. I was going to be a naughty girl and feel him up as I retrieved it from his pants pocket, but the moment my hand slips in, he tightly grips my wrist.