Damage Me (Crystal Gulf Book 2)

by Shana Vanterpool

  “Harley?” Dylan spoke up when Bach parked next to a yellow Porsche.

  “What?” She turned around in the seat.

  I pressed my face to the glass and stared up in wonder at the flawless white paint and charm. We could be in the past right now. On a plantation in the summer with the moon shining down. It was beautiful.

  “I take it your mom knows I’m a lying sack of shit?”

  “Yes,” she said, point blank.

  What had Dylan lied about? I peeked, finding he looked nervous. I’d never thought of him as a liar, but a man who hid behind his heart.

  “She’s okay with me being here?”

  “Yes,” she replied softly.

  “Let’s go, Sweets.” Bach opened his door and got out. I scrambled to follow. He chuckled at my staring. “I know. It’s all overwhelming, isn’t it? We didn’t grow up like this.” He wrapped his arm around me. “Don’t gawk. It’s rude.”

  I smiled uncomfortably and let him lead me up the stairs. “I wasn’t gawking. I was admiring it.”

  “Bach, wait!” Harley’s voice sounded. “Help me?” She waved from the back of the truck, half in and half out as Dylan struggled.

  “Wait here.” He released me and jogged over, leaving me on the long wooden porch.

  There was a swinging chair overlooking the field. I could imagine drinking an ice cold glass of sweet tea and watching the sun shine down, swinging languidly as I fell into a peaceful rhythm. But instead of feeling calm, the image bugged me. If I sat on that bench, I wouldn’t be at peace. I would be unable to enjoy the calm. In the back of my mind my fear would rise, swallowing me as it had for weeks.

  “What is your problem?” Dylan demanded, as Harley walked slowly in front of them. She was grinning from ear to ear. “I’ve got one leg, and I’m walking faster than you. I mean your ass looks amazing in those jeans, but you’re still pissing me off. Ouch,” he growled when Bach’s arm smacked his crutch.

  Finally, they all joined me on the porch. Harley turned and smiled hugely at me and then at Dylan. He and I both frowned at her, at each other, and then at ourselves. What was her problem?

  “Babe?” Bach was confused too. “You look like you’re up to something.”

  “When am I not up to something?” She winked at my brother, and then she pushed the door open. “Follow me girls and boys.”

  My jaw fell open when we entered into a large open room. There were stairs to the left through an opening with golden rails and a hall straight in front of us. All the lights were on, hallowing the room in warm light. The ceilings were rimmed in ornate crown molding. The dark wooden floors looked like they’d been cut individually and laid by hand. The sconces glowed against the wall, creating beautiful shadows against the rich, tea-stained colored paint. Everyone continued on through the foyer-like room while I stood stunned, so that when Harley pushed a door opened at the end of the hall and everyone screamed, “Surprise!” I had a few seconds to comprehend the depth of her influence.

  I continued through the door to find we had entered into a kitchen bigger than my entire apartment. It was huge, stretching with dark cabinets and white counters. There were unfamiliar people everywhere. An older couple, a middle-aged woman, a couple closer to Harley’s age hugging in the center, Whitney, and seven kids running around. The youngest child looked familiar. She was older since I’d last seen her. She was walking effortlessly, laughing as the older girl chased her with a party hat.

  And above all of that was a sign: WELCOME HOME & HAPPY BIRTHDAY DYLAN AND HILLARY!

  I was confused watching everyone interact.

  The middle-aged woman stepped away from the mayhem and hugged Harley. They had similar attributes, but they didn’t look exactly alike. They were both beautiful. I knew it was Harley’s mother. She spotted Dylan standing there, just as confused as me, and gave him a strange look. Half-pleased, half-displeased. I knew that look. The momma bear couldn’t decide whether to claw him or comfort him.

  “Dylan,” she greeted, southern accent thick. She bent to kiss his cheek. “Welcome home.”

  “Nena,” he responded, giving her a knowing smile. “Thank you.”

  “We need to have a talk. Don’t think because my daughter’s happy that I won’t forget that you made her unhappy.” Her gaze sharpened. “Soon,” she threatened.

  “Mom,” Bach said, grinning naturally and clearly rubbing it in to Dylan. He bent to kiss her cheek, and she soaked it up, wrapping him in a tight hug.

  “Rubbing salt in wounds isn’t the way of a gentleman, son.”

  “But I’m not a gentleman.”

  “You’d better start.”

  “Nena, this is Hillary.” Bach took my hand and pulled me over. “My sister,” he explained proudly.

  Nena smiled sweetly at me. “I’ve heard so much about you, Hillary. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “You too.” I shook her hand softly, still confused.

  She laughed at me. “Your birthday’s soon, if I’m not mistaken. Next week right?” She looked at Bach for confirmation who nodded once. “Harley wanted to make sure you celebrated it. I heard things have been tough.” Her expression softened, and I knew she knew.

  I looked down at my sandals. “Thank you. That was very nice of you.”

  “Cake?” a little boy asked, pulling on Nena’s pants.

  “Soon.” She rubbed his hair. “Unless Dylan and Hillary don’t mind. Do you?” She looked at me, and I shook my head. “Dylan?” she asked, searching for him.

  I searched for him too, suddenly wanting to hold on to him.

  He was sitting in a chair holding his daughter. His crutches were leaning against the table. Aubrey was touching his face with her little hands, and Dylan was smiling at his daughter so widely, so honestly, with so much love and emotion, that my eyes dampened. He looked so happy talking to his daughter. She looked small and fragile in his large tattooed arms, but still somehow completely and utterly protected. I had never seen a more handsome man in my entire life. The love pouring off of him was this rich, warm light that touched something deep inside of me. His dark blue eyes were bright, alight with what he finally wanted. His daughter.

  He might have been the most alluring man in the world at that moment. I was breathless watching him.

  Completely and utterly out of breath.

  My heart hammered. My pulse pounded.

  No one had ever looked at me like that. Like I mattered, I was the reason they existed, and everything I embodied was everything they wanted.

  And when he looked up and happened to catch my gaze, staring at me with the remnants of that look, I knew from somewhere in an untouched part of my soul that Dylan Meyer wasn’t just a safe zone anymore.

  He was the only zone I wanted.

  Chapter Eight

  Dylan

  “Again!”

  “Again?” I asked, staring at Aubrey like she’d lost her mind. “We watched it twice. Aren’t you tired?” I checked the time on the Blu-ray player. It was almost two in the morning. “Mommy said your bedtime was supposed to be at ten. And it was only that late because of the party.”

  She paused in the middle of eating her lollipop. “Mommy told me it’s ‘kay.”

  Her lie was the cutest damn lie I’d ever heard, but it was a lie nonetheless, and I didn’t want her to end up like me, so I kept my amusement out of my voice. “She did?”

  She shook her head ‘yes’ emphatically. She pulled her blanket tighter around her and snuggled against my side. “Again.”

  I wondered briefly if anyone told my baby no. She acted like that word was foreign. She’d managed to get two pieces of cheesecake out of Nena. She got a later bedtime from Whitney. She got Bach to give her a ring lollipop, which he pulled out of a large box of them, as if he hid them just for her. She got Harley’s grandpa to give her a helicopter ride, even after he warned his back hurt. And now she had gotten me to watch Frozen, again, for the third time.

  Growing up, I didn’t even bother as
king for things. There was nothing to give me. If there were my folks weren’t going to waste it on me. My dad worked when he felt like it and mom made her money the way Bach’s did, by gambling, which meant some months we had enough and for the rest we did not. The house I grew up in was my grandparents, so rent was nonexistent. They were as bad as my parents, but they had their moments, in that they didn’t hit me for saying my stomach growled. They didn’t make me feel like an asshole for wanting clothes that fit, they just didn’t give a shit. There was a difference between not caring and not doing something. I learned that lesson at a young age. To know that Aubrey had everything she wanted comforted my soul. She was sitting in the theater room of a mansion watching Frozen on a ninety-inch flat screen.

  It was too much, and I loved it even more because of it.

  Half way into the movie she started to fade. Her head fell on my chest, and her breaths evened. I resigned myself to this position. I couldn’t walk and carry her. I couldn’t even shuffle, let alone carry a toddler up the steps to the second story. We’d have to stay here until someone else woke up. I turned the movie off and settled down, turning on ESPN. Truthfully, I didn’t want to be anywhere else. I’d waited so long for this.

  The moment I walked into the Evans family home and saw my daughter pieces of me let go of the feelings of betrayal I held for Harley. She made this happen. She gave me my baby. Went out of her way to mend a fence she hadn’t broken. I closed my eyes and kissed Aubrey’s hair, inhaling the smell of her baby soap. She curled up into a ball and used my left thigh as a pillow.

  I pried the lollipop ring off her finger and put it on mine, finishing it off. There was also a smear of chocolate sauce from the cheesecake she’d shoveled into her mouth while giggling at the jokes Stacey cracked. There were too many Evans in the family to keep track of them all. It had always been difficult for me. But I knew Stacey was Harley’s cousin Carolyn’s daughter and Froy was her husband. All the kids except for Aubrey were Carolyn’s. She was Harley’s dad’s niece. I gave up after that, choosing to remember one other person from tonight.

  Hillary. The girl had been so out of place I finally felt like I had an ally. The Evans weren’t perfect, but they weren’t imperfect either. They balanced that line in a way that made you sure you’d never get it as right as them. Hill had eaten her cheesecake, took the birthday song, and engaged in conversation, all while I could see the fear in her eyes and the discomfort in her body. When Harley’s mom mentioned bed, she’d jumped on the opportunity to escape. All this time I’d been positive Hillary and I were opposites. That was still true, probably always would be, but as I watched her struggle to fit in, I wondered if we were all that different, and why the idea comforted me.

  It shouldn’t comfort me.

  This golden haired angel shouldn’t be able to comfort a fallen soldier. We were both adrift right now. Floating away from ourselves at the same time everyone wanted us to swim. We were stuck. Which way did we paddle? I almost wanted to paddle to her, ask her to help me the way she did in the shower. She had answers, even at her age, and right now I yearned for them. I didn’t have answers on my own.

  With Aubrey finally back in my arms, I knew I had a minimal amount of time left to figure it out. But I also knew that when I left here she’d stay. I’d go back home to my empty house, unable to move, freefalling toward the garbage. It was a twisted feeling to have what you wanted, and knowing you’d have to leave it here for later, and that it was better off that way.

  “Dylan?”

  Whitney came into the theater room. She smiled when she saw Aubrey and settled on the other end of the couch, gently touching her little foot. Her dark blond hair was in a lopsided ponytail, and her eyes were puffy from sleeping. Even with all that Whitney was a fox. Large, pale, blue eyes, that sexy southern accent, and a body that reminded me of Hillary’s. Neither girl was short, but they were fuller because of it. Although I preferred Hill, choosing her ass and legs over Whitney’s. Not to mention Whitney had about as many tats as I did. Her thighs were covered in them, unhidden by her short shorts. Somehow I preferred Hillary’s unblemished skin, her good on display for me. Though I couldn’t have it, I thought deep down her good was the only thing holding me together.

  “Can’t sleep?” I guessed, smoothing the hair away from our daughter’s face. Blue from her candy stained her mouth.

  She shook her head tiredly. “Bach and Harley are playing hide the sausage.”

  I cringed, and she laughed, shoving her cold feet under Aubrey’s blanket. “Thanks for the image.”

  “No problem.” Her smile faded, and she sighed. “We should talk now while you’re here.”

  I gave up before the battle started. I looked into her eyes and brandished my soul. “I’ll do anything you want. Just don’t take my daughter.”

  Her eyes immediately filled with tears. “That’s the last thing I want to do. But you’re not good for her right now. Look at you, Dylan. You’ve lost weight. You can barely walk. You haven’t tried to heal. You don’t have a job. You’re probably sitting in your house all day and night stewing. That isn’t going to help our baby. She loves you. If you don’t do it for yourself, do it for her.”

  “I’m scared,” I whispered, blinking the sheen from my eyes. “It was hard the first time with Harley, and I’d been lying. This time, I have to do this and still be me. That’s terrifying, Whit.”

  “You can do it. And you’re not alone. I don’t expect you to wake up tomorrow and be perfect. But I need you to try. None of us are perfect. She needs as much of that as she can get. I didn’t have that growing up. At. All. You didn’t either. She can’t be us.” She patted her chest, indicating the shit storm we were. “She has to be better. She’s so smart, so intuitive. We can beat this shitty cycle. Don’t you want to beat it? Don’t you want to be better than what everyone said you were?”

  Hell.

  I nod. I just nod. Because she’s right. Our grandparents raised our parents, and they raised us, and we’re raising Aubrey. If we kept going she could be me. The thought sent a terrified shockwave through my body. “I’ll try.” My voice didn’t waver; it was strong. “I promise to try.” I had to try.

  She closed her eyes and took a deep, relieved breath. “Now, we need to talk about us.”

  “Us?” As far as I was concerned there was no us. Whitney never wanted more from me.

  “You were mean to me.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Whit, come on. We were mean to each other.”

  “Apologize.”

  What was one more concession? “I apologize for being an insensitive dickhead. You’re the mother of my child, and you didn’t deserve that. Forgive me, please?”

  She beamed and leaned over to place a soft kiss to my lips. “I forgive you, Daddy.” A movement must’ve caught her attention because she glanced over and smiled genially. “Hi. Hillary, right? We had dinner together at Bach’s house.”

  Shit.

  I didn’t feel right about her seeing Whitney kissing me. Her jealous reactions still bothered me. How could she be jealous? Jealousy suggested there was more to her actions than just her desire to be safe.

  I knew first hand emotion had nothing to do with desire. Sex did not denote love. I had sex with women I didn’t love for most of my life. But sometimes when I looked into her eyes I could almost see her confusion. She wanted to be safe, but at the same time she didn’t know what she was doing wrapped around my body. I had to keep it there. If it tipped too far over and she combined feelings with her jealousy we’d both be screwed, because I had a feeling if Hillary wanted it, I’d do my best to give it to her. If her desire was me, how could I give her that when it was the worst thing for her?

  Why was I even considering it?

  She was hurting, she was drifting—I understood that. I wanted to forget too; she made me do that, but emotions weren’t going to become a part of this. Hillary was one good girl too many. She’d rise up from this and walk out of my life one day. Women lik
e Whitney, damaged women who could navigate this world I was stuck in, were what I wanted. What I’d get.

  “Yes,” her soft, sexy voice spoke. “I’m sorry if I’m interrupting. I saw the light on downstairs and …” She let it hang there.

  She was probably looking for me. She wanted me. My chest squeezed. “You’re not interrupting.” I couldn’t look at her. So I chose Whit instead, who was looking at me with a barely contained smile. “Take her to her room?” After she’d gathered Aubrey in her arms, I leaned over and kissed her cheek goodnight, whispering, “I love you,” so I didn’t wake her.

  “Not too rough, D. The poor thing can’t hang like me.” She kissed my cheek on her way out with Aubrey, eyes bright and chuckling. “‘Night, Hill.”

  “‘Night.”

  Thanks for the advice, I thought dryly.

  Slowly, Hillary made her way deeper into the room. Her outfit was different. Gone were the baggy clothes and in their place was the last outfit I needed right now. White silk shorts cupping her ass and hugging her thighs, a pale green camisole that gripped her curves and caressed her tits, and her long golden hair hanging naturally around her face and shoulders. No makeup, soft bright skin, those jade green eyes—I was hypnotized.

  But her eyes were not good, innocent orbs. They were infuriated and accusing. It only made her hotter. Anger mixed with the good girl turning her into someone I didn’t mind imagining the taste of.

  She settled beside me and leaned against my shoulder. I struggled with myself for a long time before I gave in. I wrapped my arm around her body and traced her bare arm from elbow to shoulder, leaving a trail of goose bumps behind each go-around. Maybe Hillary wasn’t the only one confused. When the lust hit me, I lost all reasoning. When the pain became too much, I wanted to escape. Hillary did both to me. However, I couldn’t deny the need for boundaries. Asking me to damage her? She was losing it too fast. She wasn’t making sense, how could she be, asking me to do that? Why don’t you finger her in the backseat again? Confuse her a little more. I had to figure it out. Either I gave in and risked ruining her, or I pulled back and left her the way she would do me.