Breathe (Hollow Ridge Book 2)

by C. L. Matthews

  “But I’m not ready. Don’t put me in that position—” Lo frantically denies, shaking her head, her face paling.

  “You’re more than ready, Peaches. You both need this. Plus, he already knows about Lev.”

  “Jason,” she whimpers in a way that’s so sad and desperate.

  “Lo baby,” he soothes. “You’re so much stronger than before. You both need closure.”

  She cries now. Those soft brown eyes glisten, and it hurts to see. Never in my life has a woman looked so troubled and sad while crying.

  “I believe in you, Peaches. Now get your ass changed before I spank it.”

  The stark contrast in his words now from ten seconds ago makes me blush like I’m a child of theirs.

  “Jason!” She hits his chest, attempting to wipe her eyes at the next moment. He smacks her ass loudly, and I cover my eyes, walking backward.

  “Shower. I’ll be there in two.”

  Rushing out of the room before I see them paw at each other, I see Ace with a teenage girl and Lev. He’s unamused, but his eyes, whenever his siblings look at him, softens. He’s a mystery to me.

  “Nauseating, huh?”

  I’m thrown off by his words but nod. “I’m not even their kid, and that made me feel like a child.”

  “Yeah, they’re gross. Meet Jazzy bear.” He points at his sister. Her long blonde hair cascades in waves past her hips. She reminds me of Rapunzel, her hair thick and curly.

  “Hi,” her meek voice sounds out.

  “And this is Lev.” He points at the little boy who looks so much like my husband it hurts. “But it seems you already have.”

  I nod sadly.

  Right as I’m about to make a comment, the doorbell rings out, silencing my voice, thoughts, and heart.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Present

  Toby

  My heart feels heavy as if I’ve lost someone. The only pain that compares is the loss of my unborn child. Even then, it doesn’t feel as vital to me as my love for this woman.

  Why did her leaving force my hand? Why did it take this long for me to come to terms with my stupidity? I called Jase, and we had it out. I asked about the little boy and he told me to fuck off because it wasn’t my child.

  I’ll be asking Lo tonight, but he doesn’t need to know that.

  The car ride feels a lot shorter than it should. It’s too soon. The hammering of my pulse sets me in motion. I’m parking my car at the house that both ruined and freed me. This home has so many memories—mostly sad—but there are those few that I keep close to my heart with a woman who was never meant to be mine.

  My brother doesn’t seem to hold as much of a grudge as I suspected. Whether it’s because it’s been five years, he’s a new father again, or they’re doing great, I’m not sure. But it was his bright idea for me to come here. He said maybe closure would set me free. Maybe it’d ease my addictions, but we all know afflictions are lifelong battles. Mine is and always has been.

  It doesn’t help that my childhood is nowhere near perfect or that my brother always won.

  At least, he did.

  But he doesn’t have a Joey. My Joey.

  No one knows what that’s like.

  Or so I believe.

  Did she leave me for Francis? He’s been ignoring my calls, setting my trust issues off even more so than normal. I walk the pathway to the door, remembering all the times I popped in. For Dirty Dancing, coffee dates, runs, and just to spend time with the woman who held my heart like a gunman holds a hostage.

  My palms are clammy as I’m about to knock. Sweat beads my forehead and lines my back despite the cool spring day.

  Ringing the doorbell, I let the fear settle inside. It’s never been an issue before, but the last time I was at this door, my brother told me to leave and give Lo and him a chance to make up.

  It was one of the hardest days of my life. After that, I went on a five-month bender, which ultimately led me to the woman I’m madly in love with.

  When the door opens, my stomach squeezes.

  Lo.

  In the flesh.

  Her black hair is long like I saw at the coffee shop months ago. She’s vibrant, but her eyes are puffy. Has she been crying?

  “Tobes,” she mutters. It’s so soft and so caressing. I hate that she still has this way of connecting with me. Her tone always dug deep, ever since we were fifteen and didn’t know what to do with our lives. Back then, it was an obsession, and now it’s just an admiration kind of love that seems entirely platonic.

  I stare at her pleased expression, and I feel elated in a way that’s insane. It’s not with the love I was scared I still held for her. It’s not with a panic that she was the only one ever for me.

  No, it’s with this kind of closure.

  She’s vibrant, and it’s for all the right reasons.

  None including me.

  And that’s exactly what I needed to see.

  Her happiness.

  “Going to stand out here all day?”

  “Looks like your snark is back, Sparkle.” Her eyes shine at that, a little emotion bleeding through. It’s nice to see she still cares.

  “Huh, seems like you haven’t left your charm either.”

  “Charm?” I feign disappointment. “I’m the goddamn king.”

  She chuckles and waves me in. It takes all of five seconds for my smile to fall from my face. Because right beside this door, ten feet to my left, is my wife.

  Her eyes are glistening with pain. It’s not only visible, but it’s graspable. An attainable thing that I never want to see again.

  I’d do anything to take that look off her face.

  Instead of saying hi to the clan, I stalk directly toward Joey, my mind made up before my body could catch up. My feet are silent but hers tap as she retreats. No one exists at this moment. Maybe they all should, but they don’t matter.

  Only she matters.

  The woman who’s owned me since Lo broke me.

  My destiny.

  My fate.

  The woman meant to be mine and only mine.

  I stare at her heartbroken expression and want to wipe it away, to swipe it along with her tears and heal everything I’ve broken in the past year.

  Why did I hurt her so much?

  We continue this war between us, a battle of wills. She’s running out of space to run, and that’s exactly what I need. For her to lose. To give in. To love me back.

  She shakes her head at me like a wounded animal, but it doesn’t stop me.

  “You can’t run anymore, Sous. I won’t let you.” It’s dark and low, so goddamn low that I’m almost shocked at how deep I sound.

  She’s like a frightened animal, and I’m going to catch her and soothe her back to good health.

  “Stop,” she whispers, her voice small. “I left you.” The words are barren of emotion, almost like she’s trying to ice over. It’s too late for that, sweetheart. I’ve already melted those walls. You just forgot.

  “I’ll never stop. We’re inevitable.”

  Her eyes glaze, and her back hits the wall, making several pictures wiggle above her. She looks up, and by the time she’s looking back down, I have her boxed in. It reminds me of all the times I’ve taken her body against a solid surface. To dig in deeper, thrust harder, taking what’s mine without plushy cushioning. She loves it, and as a tiny whimper escapes her lips, she’s loving it now too.

  “You broke me.”

  “You destroyed me,” I counter, feeling the pain surge. “You chose him.”

  She scrunches her lips in displeasure, her face morphing into that hatred that scorches me alive. “I didn’t fuck Francis, you idiot.” She pushes at my chest. “I’d never do that to Gray, let alone you.” It’s as if she’s smacked me. I look over every inch of her face and don’t see a trace of mistruth.

  “Since we’ve been together, it’s only ever been your stupid ass.”

  With that, I take her smart-ass mouth with mine. She moans,
and I take that too, swallowing it with every ounce of oxygen she can spare. Gripping her throat, I need that connection, to feel her heart, to have every part of her for myself, and I groan.

  Tears leak from her eyes as we battle with our tongues, not knowing what to do. It’s been a year of turmoil, a year of agony, a year of missing her every fucking second.

  I pull back and kiss her tears, taking each one with my lips, hoping to soothe them and never make her hurt like this ever again.

  She looks at me with so much love, but the brokenness is more apparent. This is far from over, far from happiness, far from anything other than the beginning.

  A throat clears behind us, and I see Ace assessing the situation. He’s such a little dick.

  “This is nice and all, but take your emotional baggage somewhere private. Some of us have souls to keep away.”

  “One day, you’re going to change, Ace. And when that day comes, you’re going to realize love comes in many weird forms.”

  “So, if it’s anything like you or Jase’s, I’m fucked, right? Since you both can’t seem to keep your dicks to yourselves.”

  I’m about to rush him and give him a good talking-to when Joey’s hand clutches mine. “He’s hurting, and you just ruined the good image he had of you.”

  “Fuck,” I mutter.

  “No, he didn’t ruin shit. He’s as worthless as Jase. You deserve better.”

  “Don’t do this,” I growl, seeing the hope die from his eyes.

  “I honestly thought you were better than him. Guess we’re all wrong at some point.” It’s his parting words before he walks out the door. I’ve tried to keep him somewhat humane over the years, but it seems no matter what I do, he’s not a fan.

  “He’s hurting,” Joey repeats. “It’ll all change one day.”

  I nod before bringing her lips to mine again.

  She breaks away from my kiss, pushing me back as her eyes trail my entire face like a facial recognition scanner from some cringy sci-fi show.

  “What were you doing today around noon?” she asks, her face giving nothing away. Sanje called at one. He said she made him wait an hour.

  “Filing payroll in the office,” I respond immediately. It’s what I was doing. Even when Sanje called, he interrupted. Now that it isn’t filed on time, everyone’s going to be pissed when they receive their paychecks late.

  “That’s all you were doing?” she pushes, and I can see how much she’s trying to keep calm. Her eyes are glossing over. It’s a tell for most people when they’re upset. People give more away than they think. Usually it’s a twitch or a smirk, but for those who have the best poker faces, it’s in the eyes.

  Joey’s eyes whisper all the truths to me while her mouth tells all the lies.

  I want to be angry at her for questioning me, but how can I? I’ve cheated. Slept around. Broken every sliver of trust she ever gave me.

  “I swear, I was only doing payroll. When I woke up this morning, I gave you a kiss, told you I’d miss you, and checked on your mom. After drinking several cups of coffee and reading the Hollow Ridge Post, I headed downstairs. I was a little late to the office, having to handle a few loose ends.”

  Her face falls, a little horrified, as if everything she worked to ice over has melted, and she’s showing every expression she wished to hide from me.

  “Loose ends?” she strains, pulling her lip between her teeth. At this rate, she’s going to chap it. It’s her biggest tell. She’s beyond upset and on the verge of breaking.

  I scratch my head uncomfortably. How do you tell your wife that you cancelled the room you kept for your affairs? Or that you told the women you used to fuck that it wasn’t going to work out and that you loved your wife?

  Would she understand?

  Would she berate me?

  Would I drown because the deep-seated hatred I have for myself overwhelms my very existence?

  “That room,” I start. Biting the inside of my cheek, I nearly drawing blood at the pressure. I hate admitting I had my very own sex pad. It’s not exactly something you boast about.

  “Yes, your sex dungeon,” she gripes, folding her arms and forcing distance between our bodies.

  “I canceled the room today. Called the women to meet up there and told them it wouldn’t be happening again.” Tears spill from her. I want to taste them, see if her pain matches my own.

  “Did you fuck anyone of them goodbye?” Her tone is filled to the brim with bitterness. Trying to keep my face neutral instead of bursting like I want to, I cup her chin.

  She jerks it away, needing an answer from me.

  “I haven’t fucked anyone since that night, Sous. No one.”

  Her pained expression is enough to make me hate myself even more. The acrid taste of bile rises, and I’d do anything to ease the distress she’s showing me. I’ve absolutely ruined every shred of trust we had. She can’t even bury that expression from her face, but she shouldn’t have to.

  “I don’t believe you,” she says in a broken hushed whisper. Her chest heaves harshly, reminding me of Lo and her panic attacks.

  “Joey,” I gently murmur. I need her to look at me, brand me with those eyes of hers, tear me to bits if that helps her, but no matter what, I need her to breathe. “Look at me, sweetheart.” She does. Her forehead scrunched in displeasure. “I told her today that it was over. I didn’t touch her, didn’t say more, and I sure as hell didn’t fuck her.”

  She grimaces at the word. How will I ever fix this? What have I done to us?

  “Why do I hate you and love you?”

  The question throws me off. She still loves me?

  “How do I love the hate out of you?”

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Past

  Joey

  “I fucking hate you. You’re such a prick,” I seethe, practically spitting the words at him as we make it to the kitchen. I don’t dare to think of the maids overhearing us because I don’t fucking care who knows how big of a piece of shit he is.

  Even if I still love him.

  “Do you fuck your husband with that mouth?” he sneers, callous and bastardly as usual.

  “Hard to do when he’s dead to me.”

  “Are you sure you’re not just jealous that he’s shared his body like you’ve shared yours?” I want to correct him, to yell at him and tell him that I haven’t shared a thing and that he’s the fucking cheat, but I don’t. I think half of it is knowing I deserve this pain since our child died before it got to live. The other part—while small and meager—tells me that if he knew, maybe he’d treat me right.

  Maybe this is what we were supposed to be all along—hormones, lust, and simple fucks.

  “I’d be jealous, but your cock isn’t anything special,” I fire back, biting his throat where his heart beats. He growls and pins me to the wall. He forces my legs open, and I only fight him to let the fire back in that I’ve missed. He’s such a fucking dick, but he has the best dick, which means he’s my dick.

  “You keep challenging me like that, and you’ll bruise my cock’s ego.”

  “That’s okay, husband. Your head has enough ego for the both of you.” He hisses as I sink my claws into him, wanting to dig deep and leave my brand. So, when he’s fucking those bimbos, it’s me that has him marked all over.

  “Is your cunt wet for me, Sous? Is it dripping with the knowledge that your husband’s cock has been inside so many cunts it has lost count?” I whimper, hating him more, wanting to fucking stab his heart over and over again, just to see if he even dies. There’s no way something beats beneath those ribs.

  He smirks when I push at him.

  “Hit a nerve?” he condescends, biting the inside of my thigh. I scream as he keeps sucking and biting back and forth in spite of our mutual hatred. “Sounds like my wife can’t keep her husband satisfied. Such a shame she has to share.”

  “Fuck you,” I hiss.

  “Plan to, Sous. Plan to fuck you so good that your toes curl, and you cry out wi
th only my name on your tongue. Then when you’re begging me to stop because you’re shaking with satisfaction, I won’t. Because until I’m done marking every goddamn inch of your body so the entire fucking male population knows you’re mine, I won’t stop.”

  “Toby,” I moan as he swirls his tongue across my goose bumps.

  “The world must know this cunt is mine, even while it rents itself out. It’ll learn. It’ll know its home and beg for me to remind it.”

  “Fuck,” I hiss as his teeth bite my folds.

  “If bruises and bites don’t work, Sous, and if all else fails, when someone looks at your body, your cunt will tell them it’s mine. I’ll brand you here,” he growls, tracing the juncture between my thighs. “I’ll put my goddamn name here as a permanent fixture, so whenever you spread your thighs for someone, they’ll know they’re nothing.”

  I bow into him as he licks that spot, showing me where he’ll place his name. I want that so much, for him to trace his tongue there, making sure he’s just as much mine as I am his. I’d do anything for him to stop fucking those other women. Anything.

  “Fuck me,” I demand as his tongue teases everywhere but my clit. He makes me go through hell as he nibbles and dives into my hole.

  “Bet Francis hasn’t come inside my pretty pussy, has he?” I groan at his words.

  “What if he has?” I challenge, wanting more of his hate, letting it fill me to the brim. Just having his lust confuses me. If hate isn’t included, my heart betrays me and seeks him out. If I were upright, I’d be falling to my knees in worship, just to have something of his to fill me and make me whole again.

  “He hasn’t,” he barks with a sureness that doesn’t make sense. “No one has but me. This is mine, isn’t it?” His hand cups me, gripping me as if it’ll make all his dreams come true.

  “Say it, Sous. Tell me it’s mine.”

  I glare at him, wanting him to feel even an ounce of the desperation he makes me feel every day. Shaking my head, I’m surprised when he thrusts three fingers in me with no warning.

  “You’re saying this tight hot tunnel isn’t only for me? That it doesn’t know the master of its pleasure?” I shake my head again, biting my lip as the sensations zip up my spine. He’s wrecking me, absolutely destroying my control.