Hurt Like Me

by P. A. Brokenshire

  We rode the rest of the way in a comfortable silence. It was nice. Like being with John. She didn't push and neither did I. Maybe, just maybe, we could get past what I did all those years ago and be friends or at least not enemies. For John...yeah, for John. It's not like we would have to put up with each other very long. She'd probably be gone in a week.

  Chapter 20

  Avery- Present

  I couldn't leave. I had made the decision on the way home and as Garrett showered, I called my boss. There was no way that I was going to leave my father here to recover by himself. A part of me understood that Garrett would be here, but it didn't feel like enough. I needed to be here- me. When my father got better, I refused to think if, I wanted to be the one to be there for him. The same way he had always been there for me.

  Alexa and HR approved for some time off followed by a remote position for three months. They would send me a laptop within the week. I didn't expect them to be so accommodating, but I guess I should have. Working in digital marketing had its advantages and I was good at what I did. Now I just had to figure out what I was going to do about staying in Junction. I didn't have anywhere to stay. Real estate wasn't exactly a thriving market in such a small town. It was almost impossible to find a cheap place to rent with the supply to demand issue.

  That left dad's house...dad's house with Garrett...dad's house alone with Garrett. I couldn't exactly kick him to the streets. Dad would kill me. Besides, I didn't know what legal standing he had. It was probably his legal address if Dad was dumb enough to give him temporary control over the business in his absence. He was also probably dumb enough to put him down as a tenant at the house or some other shit. I would just have to deal with him being my roommate. A very hot roommate who had tortured me my senior year of high school and also happened to be a struggling addict. Yeah, it was going to be a blast if we didn't kill each other or worse.

  That wasn't the only problem. I wouldn't have any of my clothes. I hadn't changed that much in size, but enough so that my senior clothes wouldn't fit anymore. That left me with three options. I would either have to buy more clothes which I hated to do, fly home to get them which I didn't want to do or get Michael to send me some of the clothes which was mortifying to think about. I only had a few sets of clothes with me. I would have to make the decision soon, but not now. Definitely not now.

  I unpacked my small carry on in my teenage bedroom dresser. My room looked the same as it always had. The same way it did last year and every year since I was seventeen. The walls were lined with built in dark stained shelves on the far wall, the rest of the room was a dark green, almost black, even the ceiling. My full-size bed was tucked against the shelves piled with green and gray pillows atop a sage colored duvet. The space was comforting, like a warm hug.

  I heard the shower shut off, so I gathered my toiletries and waited in the hall for the door to open. Shortly after, Garrett slipped out of the bathroom with his hair dripping in black curls against his neck. He was still a bit damp, and he had a towel hung around his waist. I caught sight of a tattoo. A rather large raven on the right side of his chest. The edge of its wings dissolved into spatters that spread out onto his shoulder. I hadn't noticed that not so little detail in the stairwell yesterday. Then again, I was a bit distracted. Same when he had pulled off his shirt in the car. It had taken all my focus not to accidentally drive us off a cliff.

  "Shower's all yours."

  It was mine. This whole house was mine or did he forget that John was my father, not his? He smiled at me as we passed each other, and I held my breath. I wouldn't let him get to me again. It would be easier if he wore a shirt though. Not that I would have the guts to say that. I was not going to explain why I needed him to be clothed. He did things to me and he knew that. Mostly he just made my blood boil, but he also made me hot. I'd blurred the line so much with him.

  I stepped into the shower and I was surrounded by that cinnamon and sandalwood smell. All at once I was wet, and in more ways than one. It took every ounce of my control to not reach my hand between my legs and bring about some sort of release. I didn't think it would be enough honestly. I wanted more. I wanted his hands and his tongue and his...I needed to stop thinking so I scrubbed down fast and hard. I didn't let my fingers linger. It was only as I was about to step out that I realized I had not grabbed a towel. I was so used to it always hanging there. Fuck! I stood there, contemplating crawling back into my dirty clothes, until I worked up the nerve to unlock the door and call out for help.

  "Garrett! Can you bring me a towel, please?"

  Red hot shame ripped through me. Thankfully, he didn't make me wait long. His arm reached through the gap in the door, muscular with dark hair. I could see a couple veins popping out and I was half tempted to touch his skin. To throw the door open and seduce him to my bed. He'd responded well enough in the stairwell. I think I could get exactly what I wanted, but at what cost? Those same hands had once pulled me around by a leash, had shoved me in a hallway, had touched every girl in a 50-mile radius that was willing. I tore the towel from his hand and slammed the door. This was going to be a very long three months.

  By the time I had dried off and changed into my comfiest pants and shirt the smell of something delicious was wafting through the house. I couldn't place it entirely, but it was definitely some kind of meat being fried. Garrett had cooked? Not something I expected honestly. I walked to the kitchen and found him dressed in a pair of jogging shorts and a white tee. It was a bit disappointing to see him wearing a shirt again if I was being honest with myself, but over his shirt he wore my father's apron. It had chili peppers on it, and I had to hold back a groan. I remembered instantly picturing him in an apron when we were teenagers and he told me that he cooked. This was ten times better and he even had clothes on. Domesticity suited him.

  "I'm making some chicken sandwiches if you're hungry."

  That's what I had smelled, fried chicken. I shook my head to clear my thoughts. I needed to concentrate.

  "Yeah, that sounds good," I said, tucking my hair back into a ponytail before taking a seat at the table. "So, I talked to my work and they agreed to let me do some remote work for a while. I'm probably going to just stay here at the house. No point in paying for some other place."

  "That makes sense," he said, sounding unsure. He paused mid flip of a piece of chicken. "So, what, like a couple weeks?"

  I cleared my throat.

  "Three months."

  He stopped moving. I couldn’t see his reaction, but I could guess what he was thinking. He didn't want me there. That was evident. We had some short truce in the car. At the end of the day though us being close just wasn't a good idea. He was still an addict. Still Garrett Hathaway. The shadow boy had become a shadow man, but nothing else had changed. He was dangerous for me.

  "Three months? Here?" Garrett set down the tongs and turned to face me, releasing a heavy sigh. "Your work can't actually want you gone that long. I can take care of him, you know? He trusts me to take care of the business. I can take care of him too."

  I snorted at the ridiculous statement. A couple words and my dad would know why that was such a stupid idea. Trusting Garrett was the dumbest idea on the planet.

  He looked wounded by my reaction for a second then another second passed and that hurt turned to anger.

  "I'm not a child!"

  I didn't respond. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of riling me up again. Instead, I got up and headed to my room.

  "I'm not really hungry anymore, I think I'll go lie down."

  He didn't follow me. I heard him banging around the pots and pans after I left, and it was only after he went to his own room that I sneaked back into the kitchen to eat the food he had prepared. I had to contain the moan that threatened to escape at the taste of the fried chicken. It was amazing, just as delicious as it had smelled. I hated that I loved it. I hated that stupid apron he wore when he made it and I hated that he made it so hard to not hate it. Yeah, it was go
ing to be a long three months. Three months of fighting, in every aspect of the word. I was going to be fighting my desire for him, fighting against the past between us, and fighting against the addict. The thought exhausted me. I curled into my sheets, breathing in the scent of home.

  I'm not sure when I fell asleep or even when I woke up. I do know that I woke to the sound of screams. They tore me from a dead sleep. I rushed across the hallway to see Garrett thrashing in his sleep.

  "Stop! Please stop! I can't breathe!"

  I wasn't sure what to do, how to approach him. He was moving in his bed so violently, but it wasn't just my worry of his physical anger. He was so vulnerable in his sleep and I doubted he would react kindly to me waking him. Still, I couldn't listen to his screams without them making my skin crawl. I remembered the nights he had detoxed in that same room. He'd screamed in his sleep from the pain, but it had been in brief fits. Not like this. He was begging in his sleep, gasping for air. It was terrifying to watch. I had to wake him up somehow. I went to my room and turned my music on loud, as loud as it would go. It wasn't long before he pounded on my door.

  "Some of us are trying to sleep!"

  I smiled softly to myself and turned the music down before changing it to softer sleeping music. When I heard him snore again, I slipped back into my own sleep.

  Chapter 21

  Garrett- Present

  Two weeks had passed since Avery had moved into her old room and I didn't know whether I wanted to fuck her or smack her. My dick wanted to do both. We mostly avoided each other. Avery spent her time held up in her room working and I had to do paperwork for the construction company while working on site most days. We alternated going to see John weekdays and on the weekend we would go together. He was making progress in speech therapy. Slow progress, but he could work together simple sentences. Avery and I both tried to limit his stress by avoiding talking about home or work. It was one of the only things we could agree on. John was more important than our discomfort. He was like the child in our weird dynamic, we would do anything to protect him while he healed.

  Kids, at least that we agreed on. She didn't care for them and neither did I. I was genuinely surprised when we drove past the elementary school one day and she'd scoffed in annoyance at the kids that ran across the street without bothering to look. She made a comment that she was glad she wasn't going to have any and had been equally surprised when I told her I had gotten fixed to ensure that I never had to deal with it either.

  Her music choices, we agreed on that too. I definitely wouldn't tell her that. The soft music she played at night always lulled me into sleep. They even made the nightmares less powerful. Something about that music soothed my soul. She had a weird knack for being obnoxious with it though. I'd woken up more than once to the volume being ridiculously loud. Granted it ripped me out of the worst of the memories, so I guess that was helpful.

  In the mornings, the music was always back to a reasonable volume. I considered asking her why her stereo always seemed to fluctuate, but it never felt like the right time. We'd managed to avoid being in the same room except for short meals and car trips to the nursing home 10 minutes away, at least until tonight.

  It was Friday night, and we were both in the kitchen, hovered over John's laptop. It was late enough that we were both in our versions of PJs. Sweats and an old shirt for me, shorts and a tank top for her. Her tits were distracting in that shirt. She wasn't wearing a bra either. It's probably the only thing stopping me from wringing her neck at the moment. I had to do payroll and Avery was being a controlling bitch about the situation.

  "Do you realize how absolutely insane this is?" I said, reaching for John's laptop. Avery wouldn't let me touch the damn thing. "It's not a big deal. I can take care of the paychecks. I've seen John do it a hundred times."

  She released a heavy sigh. I'd gotten used to that sound. She still didn't trust me in anything that involved money or John's health. I wanted to hate her for it, but fuck if I didn't stare at that bank account an awful lot. It would be easy for me to take John's money and go on a massive bender. I couldn't do it though, not to John. He was...important to me. And I couldn't fuck that up. He was the closest thing I had to a family that still treated me with an ounce of respect.

  "That's because you don't deserve it."

  1...2...3...I didn't have it in me to fight Avery anymore. If she wanted to do the paychecks, she could fucking do it. But I wouldn't help her. She could figure out that shit on her own. She could feed herself too. I was tired of being her chef even if it gave me that rare smile of hers. She enjoyed my cooking. I'd figured that out quickly enough. The sounds she made were appreciative enough. I was almost as good in the kitchen as I was in the bedroom. I bet I could make her make those sounds for entirely different reasons. I'd had a lot of years to master it- cooking that is.

  "How many times have I told you not to touch my food?!"

  My stomach growled at the memory. I stormed into the living room just feet from the kitchen and turned the TV volume up louder to drown out the fucking voice in my head. It wouldn't do anything. I knew that, but I needed something to at least quiet it down. I'd woken up shouting into my pillow and it had been a running rant in my mind all day. I just needed a break.

  "Will you turn that shit down? I'm having a hard enough time thinking."

  My frustration reached an all-out breaking point.

  "Well maybe if you would just let me fucking take care of it, it wouldn't be a problem!" I screamed at her across the open space, and she growled at me. I was getting used to that sound too. It was too close to a reminder of that night so long ago. My dick got hard. It loved that sound.

  She slammed her hands on the table and stood, stomping across the space and ripping the remote from my hand. It was too close. She was entirely too close. I could have blamed it on the way her hand brushed mine, but really, I was already worked up. The voice in my head was driving me crazy and she was right there. So close. She had managed to turn down the volume only a few notches before I grabbed the remote and tossed it on the floor.

  "What the f-"

  I smashed into her body and captured her lips. It was like I'd hit a reset button on my soul. The scent of her shampoo filled the air around me as her breath mingled with mine. All at once the world was Avery.

  She let me kiss her deeply, caressing her tongue with mine before unexpectedly sucking on it. My god. The world floated away at the sensation. Hands roamed beneath my shirt. Her nails touched me the same way they had weeks ago. Scraping, dragging, a trail of pain across my abs. Sex and pain, pain and sex. The best distraction short of pumping myself full of drugs. My cock twitched desperately in my sweats. I could feel it pulsing against the fabric, demanding attention. The moan I released made her pull back and smile up at me. Dark lashes, green eyes, soft freckles, and that oh so wicked mouth.

  "If you want to suck on something so bad, I can think of a much better spot on my body," I said the words much harsher than I had meant them. It was the way she looked at me, I was so lost. Sex and pain, pain and sex. I wanted them both and she was all too willing.

  "If you want it so bad, make me."

  Holy fuck. She should not have said that. I yanked my shirt off and latched my hand onto her jaw. She melted under my touch, her eyes rolling back as she released a sharp breath.

  "Tell me you want it. I want to hear it," I said, sliding my hand to her neck and giving it a slight squeeze. This was not a good idea at all. I shouldn't shit where I sleep, but Avery was a big girl, she could make her own decisions and I wanted to know that this was her decision. I wanted her to beg for it. The monster in me craved it.

  "I want-," she stalled, and I could feel her swallow under my fingers. Her eyes latched on to mine again. Whatever she saw in me was enough for her. "I want to taste you."

  A smile found its way to my face. A wicked fucking grin that stretched my lips as I loosened my grip on the front of her throat.

  "On your knees."


  She didn't hesitate. I should feel bad that her bare knees pressed into the carpet. I didn't and I forgot all about it as she looked up at me with her thick lashes. For a moment I just admired her there, submitting herself to me. I could see right down her tank top from this angle. Her nipples poked out in tight peaks against her shirt. The sight of them made my mouth water. I remembered the way her skin tasted even 10 years later. The feel of her tits nuzzled against my face haunted me. Maybe I would have them there again soon, but first...first I would let her taste me.

  Our heavy breaths of anticipation were the only sound in the room except the voices on the television in the background. My heart thudded against my chest as I drew down the waistband of my sweats, releasing my aching cock. The tip was wet and shiny. Her eyes went wide. I watched her swallow heavily. I'd never seen a woman want me so badly. Sure, others had wanted me, but not this way, without abandon or shame. She wanted me like a cold glass of tea on a hot summer's day and I wanted her just as badly. It was exquisite. She leaned forward to take me into her mouth, but I grabbed her hair roughly, yanking her back. I wanted to draw out the moment for a little bit longer. Another minute, another hour, another day. She whimpered and my resolve began to fade, but the monster in me wanted more.