I tried. For weeks I tried. I became focused solely on watching, waiting, and patrolling. Then the day with the sniper happened and Spits was gone. I was the only man left standing. I survived because of his words.
My sobs tore through me, ripping me apart. This pain I hid broke me open. The only thing keeping me upright was the bench. Hot water rained down on me, wrapping me in steam as I succumbed to the memories. I was here and my unit wasn’t. I came home and I wasn’t even home. I wasn’t alive. I was stuck inside of myself, being this man, this bad worthless man even my parents didn’t want. They didn’t even care I came home. Had no idea what I’d lost, who I’d lost. That I was alive because of the advice Spits gave me.
“Dylan.”
I looked over to find Bach watching me through the glass shower wall.
I turned away. “I’m fine.” I sucked it up, swallowed my horror because I wasn’t done fighting. Forget it. Shove it down. Think about tomorrow and not what you did yesterday. You gotta forget it, D. Spits was still helping me. But it wasn’t working. “He had a son, dude.” My tears fell over again. I couldn’t breathe. My lungs weren’t working. “I could have been him.”
Bach took his phone out of his pocket, kicked off his shoes and jeans, and then ripped his shirt off. Only in his underwear, he came into the shower. He grabbed the shampoo that was on the rail and leaned over me, washing my hair for me. I bowed, unable to look at him as he washed me.
“What’s wrong?” He lathered my hair. “Is it Harley?”
I shook my head. Not anymore. Harley left me in this place, but I was starting to realize she wasn’t the reason I was consumed by my garbage. She wasn’t the reason I had given up. In a way her betrayal had been a buffer between me and the darkness. That darkness was me.
“Is it Aubrey?”
I wanted my daughter. Not for a few hours. Not one day out of months. I wanted to wake up to her every morning, hear about her day and put her to bed every night. So I nodded because Aubrey was part of the reason I was falling apart. She was the reason I wanted better, but better wasn’t what I had.
“We’ll work on it, D. I promise. You’ll get your daughter back.” Warm water washed the suds from my hair. “What else is it?”
I lifted my head to wash the soap from my face, meeting his eyes. In them was the same boy who’d helped me deal with the broken wrist dad gave me when he yanked on me too hard. The teenager who got high with me when I was too sore to walk. The man who stole my girl, but never once threw her in my face. He took care of my daughter when I couldn’t. Made it so she didn’t know the word no. I was the douchebag. I was the bastard. Not Bach. So I opened my mouth and told him the truth. How my nightmares ate me alive. How when I closed my eyes I saw nothing but blood and bullets. How the guilt of my actions have rotted in my soul. How Harley was a shield. That when I say I’m bad, it’s not because of the bad things I want to do, but because of the bad things I have already done. That in my dreams it’s my fault for losing my unit, because I listened to Spits, when I should have listened to myself.
I fell completely apart. Naked. In front of my best friend. And he let me. Held my naked body. Let me sob. Let me break. Was there for me like he always had been.
“I feel so guilty,” I finished. “Not only did I survive, but I did bad shit to do it. I’m stuck with myself. I don’t want to be with me. I can’t get a moments peace. The guilt is eating me alive. I just wanted to live, Bach. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I just wanted to come home to my daughter.” I shattered. “You were right. I shouldn’t have gone.”
“Dylan. I’m going to tell you something. Something fucked up. Something that happened to me when I was seven.” He pulled back and met my eyes, and I knew it was going to be bad, too bad, the kind of bad I didn’t want to know. “My dad tried to kill me.” His hands were shaking, and his eyes were the kind of pained I always wondered about when we were kids. Too much to ever be the same. “You remember that shed in my backyard?”
I cleared my throat. “Yeah. It burned down right before you came to live with me.” When he was seven his dad went to prison and his Mom hadn’t exactly been thrilled about him. He came over to my place, all dirty and broken up, and crawled into bed with me and never left. We grew up together, learned how to survive together, but deep down Bach was never right. He was never whole.
“I’m just going to get this out as fast as possible because I live it most nights for fifteen years, and I can’t do it anymore.” He took a deeply pained breath. “My dad locked me in that shed and set it on fire. He trapped me. He left me to burn. I wouldn’t have made it out if Hillary’s mom hadn’t come over at the same time and saved me.” He stretched his left leg out and showed me the ugly scar tissue on his lower calf. “You remember how my toes were broken?” I nodded slowly, unmoving. “How I pissed the bed?” I nodded again, recalling how he’d wake up screaming every single night. He held up his hand. “Why this shakes? It’s because my evil, bastard father tried to kill me. I know what it feels like to be that close to … to …” He swallowed hard. “I get it, D. What you did wasn’t because you’re evil. It wasn’t because you’re a monster. You did that so you could come home because once you were there, you had no choice. You survived. You don’t have to feel guilty for that.” He rose and turned off the water. “You need help getting dressed?”
“You’re just going to leave it at that?” I gawked at him as he hopped back into his clothes. “Bach, man, that’s got to be even more screwed up than what I said. You’ve been keeping that inside since you were seven?” I could think through my pain again, and now there was his.
All this time this is what he ran from?
“You want your crutches?” He finished by plunging his shirt back over his head and then pulled on his shoes. “I left your clothes on the counter. I probably missed breakfast,” he mumbled, as if this was the worst thing ever as he left the bathroom.
I knew there was something seriously wrong with me when I found his reveal comforting. It meant Bach understood, he got it. Is this what Hillary felt? The real reason she wanted me to help her forget? My brain was twisted in a million different places, but the place it kept ending up at was the image of Spits’ brown eyes watching me scream in pain.
I tried to shake the image off as I painstakingly got dressed. By the time I was dressed in a pair of jean shorts and a plain black shirt and my towel was hanging up, I had just enough strength to leave the guesthouse and make it to the main house.
My body felt on edge. The sun was too bright. My guilt rotted. I was losing my lies and what I was left with was sure to eat me alive.
The Evans’ family was finishing breakfast when I came in. Bach was sitting next to Harley, pushing around his food. Hillary was at the other end of the table alone doing the same. Harley was in the middle of a story about some kid she was helping. Nena listened, engrossed. The rest of the Evans family had empty plates. Everyone except Bach looked up when I came in. I chose to focus only on Hillary. In her eyes, there was no shock at my no doubt unpleasant expression. A look in the mirror before I left the bathroom informed me my eyes were churning, and my face was worse, and on the edge of my eyes was a man who knew damn well this “trying” thing was going to be harder than everyone insisted.
“Would you like breakfast?” a woman wearing an apron asked, tone kind.
“Sure.” I eased down into the chair beside Hillary as she situated my crutches. “Thanks.”
“I want to go home,” Hillary whispered in my ear. “Can we go home?”
I met her eyes. In the kitchen sunlight spilled in through the far windows, shining directly onto her face. They were the softest jade I’d ever seen. Her lashes were long golden strokes, catching the light and sending it away. I noticed for the first time that there was a dark green ring around her pupil, almost like a barrier separating the paleness from the darkness. I wondered if it had always been there. Then I reached out and brushed my fingers across her lashes, making her close he
r eyes. “Aubrey,” I whispered back. I didn’t want to leave my daughter.
She sighed in understanding.
“Here you go.” There was a plate set down in front of me, followed by a mug and a silverware bundle. She poured steamy, brown liquid into my mug and then filled Hillary’s to the top.
“Thank you, Betty.” Hill’s shy smile looked so out of place.
Betty winked. “Sure, sweetie.”
“Looks good.” That wasn’t a lie. It looked good. I just had no desire to eat. My stomach was too uneasy and my brain kept flashing back to the shower, to the things Bach told me, to the feeling of my blood pooling around me and my femur shattering. I shook my head and shoved a piece of bacon into my mouth. The omelet looked fluffy, spilling out with cheese and spinach, and the toast looked crunchy and smeared in butter. It all looked too good for me.
As I stared at my plate, Hillary reached over and moved my mug close. She filled it with sugar and cream and then tested it by taking a sip. Cringing, she added more sugar. After a second taste test she smiled, pleased, and moved it closer to my hand.
I wanted her pleased smile. I wanted to take her mouth and forget. “Thank you,” I said instead because we weren’t alone and the things I wanted to do to her body weren’t the kind of things you thought about in front of anyone.
“Taste it.”
I brought the mug to my lips and groaned. So sweet and creamy as the warm liquid slid down my throat. I wasn’t usually a fan of coffee, but this cup was ridiculous.
“Good?”
Her mouth probably tasted like this. Like sugar and warmth. Images of her bowed in my arms last night, coming apart from just a flick of my tongue on her hard, pink nipple, chased away the darkness in my thoughts. She was wearing a tank top now. It was probably Harley’s, too long for her short body. Her legs were hidden from the table. I wanted her on my lap, naked, saving me from the ledge. My dark thoughts were reaching up like zombies, desperate for my brain.
“Well?”
“So good.” I scanned my surroundings carefully before I leaned in and whispered, “are you wearing panties?”
She gasped quietly, looking up at me in shock. Then she shook her head once, biting into her plump bottom lip. The sight of it did me in. I lost control in seconds.
“Show me.”
“Dylan.” She frowned at me. “No.”
“Hillary.” I leaned back and pretended to stretch, making it so my lips were close to her ear. “Slide your shorts to the side and show me your pretty pussy.”
Her mouth fell open. I glared at her. We stared that way, me unyielding, and her wide-eyed and breathing hard. She broke away first, looked around the room, and then after finding that no one was looking, she reached down and unbuttoned her khaki shorts. She pulled the flaps apart and then looked at me, her eyes heavy with desire. The jade looked darker now; my bad was seeping in. She swallowed hard and smiled shyly, as if this was thrilling.
Her pussy was covered in long straight golden pubic hair. I’d felt it when I rubbed her clit in her bedroom, but I hadn’t been able to look at it. I looked at it now. Hard. Wanting to spread her lips apart and taste her dripping cunt. The taste of her would probably break me apart. Her pussy glistened, and as I watched it shone. She was so wet for me and I wasn’t even touching her.
So damn wet.
I licked my lips. “You’re always such a good girl. Leave them open for me. And finish your breakfast. It’s rude to waste food.” I grabbed my mug and took another sip, giving her wet, golden pussy one last look before I tore my eyes free.
She picked up her fork with a shaking hand and then squirmed, her heavy breaths making my balls ache. “Yes, Dylan.”
I ate my food slowly, sipped my coffee with painful ease, and kept my eyes to myself unless Hillary caught my attention. Her hard swallows and slow, measured breaths were like fingers trailing over my cock. It grew, throbbed, wanting inside of her tightness so badly at one point my eyes blurred. But I didn’t show it. I kept it in because I couldn’t do that even if I wanted to. I couldn’t even walk. How could I take her body the way I wanted if I couldn’t rest between her legs, or take it standing; there was no way she was taking her own virginity by being on top. I wanted to take it. I didn’t realize how badly I wanted it until I accepted I couldn’t. Maybe this was a good thing. She wanted to forget, not give me her cherry. My leg would keep us safe. It would keep this from turning into the shit storm I feared it may become.
“Picnic for lunch or a trot around the meadow?” Nena announced. “The kids should be back by then.”
I glanced over curiously. Where was Aubrey? None of the kids were at the table. Hillary and I were at the far end, in our own little bubble while the Evans family gathered on the other.
“The zoo,” Hillary whispered, reading my thoughts. “Whitney took them all to the zoo. Please, Dylan.” She bowed her head, her bottom lip trembling.
“I’ve actually got to go for a few hours. My client wants to close the deal today on his car. You girls have fun.” Bach rose from the table, kissing Harley’s head. Hillary scooted forward just in time to receive her own. “I’ll be back by dinner time.”
Hill’s blush made me smirk.
“I’ll walk you.” Harley followed him out of the kitchen.
The rest of the Evans family did the same, leaving Hillary and me alone the way I wanted. I looked down at her and she up at me.
“Show me.” Her legs fell open, letting me see how slick she was. I wanted it. “We’re going to get up and we’re both going to go to the guesthouse.”
“What are we going to do?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I was thinking you’d take all of your clothes off. I’d lay down on the bed. And you’d sit that wet, blond pussy down on my face.”
She inhaled sharply. “I will not be doing that.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I not make myself clear enough for you?” I began to rise. “It wasn’t a suggestion. It was an order.”
“What if I don’t want to do that?”
I shrugged. She wanted to do that. “Let’s go, baby.” I didn’t wait for her to follow. I dragged my body across the Evans property, undid the alarm on the guesthouse once more, and then waited by the door for her to scamper her cute little ass across the lawn. She was bare foot and wide-eyed as I closed the door and redid the alarm. If anyone came in, I wanted a warning. “The bedroom’s back here.”
“Why are they so rich?”
“I think Harley’s grandparents are.” I didn’t want to talk about money. I wanted to talk about her. When we got to the bedroom I waited for her to enter and then I closed and locked that door the same way I did the front.
She was mine now.
The bed was huge and made up with dark red pillows and black sheets. I imagined how sexy her naked body and blond hair would look sprawled on it. Hillary walked around the room slowly, eyes taking it all in. As she did so I managed to lie back on the bed. I pulled my body to the middle and then I watched her press her face to the glass patio doors. The meadow was our view, stretching far, dry and brown from the summer heat.
“I’m two seconds away from falling apart. Take your clothes off. Everything. And come here.” I patted the bed.
She spun around and swallowed hard. “You want to forget?” Her eyes filled with understanding. “I want to help you,” she revealed, emotion pouring from her eyes. “You help me all the time. But I’m scared.”
“Of what?”
“Being naked in front of you.”
“Why would you be afraid of that? You have nothing to be ashamed of. You’re beautiful, Hill. So damn sexy it’s killing me. If you want me to take them off, I can.”
She thought about it for a second before she started walking toward me. She put her knees on the bed and then settled close, stuck.
I patted my abs. “Sit here.”
She took a raspy breath as she did what I told her. Her thighs straddled me. “Can I undress you too?”
&n
bsp; I raised my eyebrow. “You want me naked?”
“Yes. Really naked. Please?” Her hands kneaded my abs. “I think you’re sexy too. I’ve never met anyone as sexy as you. I never even knew I could react to a man the way I react to you.”
My fingers gripped her thick thighs. I trailed them over her soft skin, from top to bottom. “Take my shirt off.”
It took her some time, but she finally managed to get it over my head, leaving me bare. She stared down at my body and took a deep, pained breath. Her warm hands glided over me, tracing my abs and chest. “Your body is so beautiful.”
No one had ever looked at me like that. Like I was worth looking at. I cleared my throat and grabbed for her tank top, pulling it over her head. Her bra was plain and white, just like her panties yesterday. I reached around back and unsnapped it, pulling it down her arms. Her tits exhaled, free and mine. I wanted to pull her hard, pink nipple into my mouth and suck hard until she came, but I held off for now. “You’ll have to take your shorts off.”
She nodded seriously, gaze shooting to my abs and my eyes over and over again, as if she wanted both. She rose shakily onto her feet and unbuttoned her shorts, letting them fall down her legs. She kicked them away and then stood there, naked, perfect, making my heart stutter and my breath catch. Her stomach was flat and her waist so tiny I was sure she spurred jealousy, leading the way to her full hips and thighs. Perfect sized tits. Not too much, not too little. They were made for my hands.
“Take your hair down.”
She undid the clip, and it fell away, golden locks cascading around her face and shoulders.
“You know you could have anything you wanted from me, right? If you wanted it, Hillary, I’d give it to you.” As soon as I said it, I realized it was true. What she wanted she could have. I was under her spell, and I never wanted free. “Turn around. Show me your ass.” She carefully rotated on the bed, trying not to fall as she stood above me in all her glory. “Did you like it when I licked you?”
Damage Me (Crystal Gulf Book 2) Page 22
