Candy Ever After (Hot Candy Book 2)

by Jo Raven

  “Wha?” I manage, but the rest of the question eludes me.

  “Jet. Look at me.”

  I force my gaze up from her tits—wow, my eyes know where to drift even when my mind’s off—to her face. “Candy.”

  She relaxes slightly. “What happened? You just fell.”

  “You passed out,” J’s voice rumbles from behind my back, his arms tightening around me. “How do you feel? Are you sick?

  I blink. A headache is pounding at the back of my eyes. “I’m just tired.”

  “Did you eat today?”

  I blink again. “Can’t remember.”

  “You don’t sleep, you don’t eat. What am I gonna do with you?”

  I freeze, my heart pounding way too hard. “I know, man. I’m too much trouble to keep around.”

  “Jet!” Candy’s eyes widen, and then fill with tears. They roll down her cheeks as I watch.

  What? What did I say?

  “You damn idiot,” Joel mutters in my ear. “That was me teasing you. What’s wrong with you tonight? I’m never letting you go.”

  But he is, right? Once he talks to his parents, he’ll realize what’s best for him and leave, and what will I do? Candy has Brylee and her awesome parents and her brother, and what do I have? Riddick won’t take me in again.

  And fuck, I knew this in my gut from the start, didn’t I—and still I let myself pretend it would never happen.

  ***

  The hot spray on my face feels good. I brace my hands on the tiles and let it beat down on my head and shoulders.

  I’ve finally managed to convince Joel and Candy that I can stand on my own and wash myself. Funny how after all that kinky, awesome sex I need a moment alone.

  Or maybe not so funny. Or strange. I’ve let myself get close, so close, and the sex is fucking awesome, though not as awesome as sleeping in a bed with them, and waking up with them. Well, at least on the few days when I do sleep until morning. Being around them, goddammit.

  Too perfect.

  It is too perfect, isn’t it? And tomorrow Joel will talk to his parents and everything will come crashing down.

  It’s my fault. I’m the one who’s been pushing him to do it, thinking it’s what’s making him restless and tense. Never thought about the consequences. What it means for him to face his parents, and the hold they have on him.

  So fucking stupid, Jet. You’re such an idiot. How can anyone stand having you around for long? You don’t even think of what might happen, you can’t even… Fuck.

  Fucking moron.

  Eventually I get out of the shower before I use up all the hot water, because I may be an idiot but I’m not an asshole. Wrapping a towel around my hips, I avoid Joel’s gaze and hands as I step out, and then do the same with Candy. She looks worried, so I brush a kiss over her mouth as reassurance.

  I roll under the covers while they shower and close my eyes, shutting out the world for a few blissful moments, and sleep rolls me under almost instantly. Guess I am really tired, cause I never hear Candy and J come to bed.

  I jerk awake some indefinite time later, drenched in cold sweat, with a scream dying on my lips, and the nightmare still playing in front of my wide open eyes.

  The knife plunging into my chest. My dad’s face, twisted in anger.

  “It’s your turn,” he says, his dark eyes a mirror of mine, his hand pinning me to the wall as he prepares to stab me again. To kill me. “Time’s up!”

  “No!” I struggle against his hold, immobilized, tied down. “No. Fuck you. Let me go!”

  “Jet. Easy.” The low rumble of a man’s voice in my ear makes no sense.

  “Let me go, dammit!”

  “I’ve got you,” a soft woman’s voice says on my other side, and I jerk, struggling harder. “Calm down.”

  What the fuck’s going on? My surroundings waver, the hand pressing on my chest gone, the knife gone. Candy’s face fills my blurry vision.

  What the hell?

  The vise around my ribs is still there, though, and I fight it again, weak, sluggish with exhaustion. “Let go…”

  “It’s me, Joel,” his voice says in my ear, and I recognize it now. “Let me hold you, man. Let Candy hold you.”

  I sag in his embrace, so damn tired my eyes ache and burn. I want to break down and cry. Can’t do this anymore.

  But Candy throws her arms around my neck and like every time, the combination of Joel’s strength at my back and the feel of her pressed to me, her soft scent, her light weight, it all serves to calm me down. Bring me home.

  “What happened?” she whispers against my neck, and holy fuck, wetness slips over my skin. She’s crying. “You haven’t had such a bad one in a while.”

  I lift my arms around her, haul her against me.

  What am I supposed to say? I’m not sure if it’s worse than usual. It’s just that usually I manage to keep quiet and slink away until the images fade from my eyes and my ears stop ringing.

  “We love you,” Candy whispers, and I nod. Although it’s not the first time either of them has told me that, for some reason tonight her words are like fucking blades that cut me up and lay me open and raw.

  That burning in my eyes? It turns into tears, after all. I only realize after I taste them on my lips, salty and bitter, and my breath hitches.

  “Shh,” Candy whispers, kissing my neck. “It’s okay.”

  “Dammit, Jet.” Joel’s face dips to my shoulder and his breath washes over my bare skin, hot and damp. “What is it? What rattled you like that? This is real, man. Here, with us.”

  It’s quite dark in the room, the only light coming from the lamp Joel leaves on in the corner. Candy’s hair is a silken, golden cloud in my eyes, Joel’s arms an invisible anchor.

  “It’s not just the nightmare,” I whisper. “It’s everything.”

  “Us?” Joel’s voice holds a trace of defensiveness. “Are we hurting you somehow?”

  I shake my head, choking on more tears. God, how do I turn them off? “Not. You.”

  “Then what?”

  “I dunno.” My voice sounds awful, cracked and not like me. Jesus. But it’s relatively dark, their arms are around me, and I just can’t hold up the walls anymore, not tonight, even if I’ll regret it tomorrow. “I’m not good enough, you know. Dad used to tell me so. Riddick’s parents told me so. Couldn’t finish school. Couldn’t keep people around me. And now I… I’ll fuck it up again. What if I don’t get my GED? What if Donna loses patience with me for good and sends me packing? What if you leave me? What if… what if Dad is released and finishes the job. Fuck, it hurts…”

  Candy pulls back a little. “Is it the scar?” Her hand slides down, over my pec, to touch it, and I shiver.

  Everything hurts tonight. The uncertainty, the fear, the memories.

  “I’m… I’m afraid,” I confess, and dammit all. “Everyone leaves.”

  “I told you that’s not true. I’m not leaving. We’re not leaving, fucker.”

  I shake my head and try to push them off me, to get up. Go hide. Lick my wounds. Convince myself nothing happened. That I didn’t fall apart and crack open, letting them both see how cold I feel. How weak I am.

  Joel doesn’t let me go, though. He pulls me in tighter to him, and Candy drapes herself over me like a living blanket.

  “We’re not letting you go,” she says and they drag me down to the mattress with them and pull the covers over us. “You’re who we want.”

  Joel spoons me from behind and kisses the back of my head. “Go to sleep now. Tomorrow everything will be better.”

  Or it will be over.

  I lie awake as they fall asleep, their breathing evening out, staring at nothing.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Candy

  “If you have J-One’s baby,” J-Two says, pulling me close, “I’ll bet she’ll have his eyes.”

  “And my hang-ups? No, thanks,” J-One mutters. “Also, how do you know it will be a girl?”

  “I like girls.” J
-Two tightens his arms around me and nuzzles my neck. “As you know.”

  “But you also like boys.” J-One grins as he scoots behind J-Two and slides his hands over his shoulders. “Don’t you?”

  “Yeah. Let’s have both.” J-Two brushes his mouth over mine. “A lot of both.”

  (Candy’s Note: Or maybe one from each daddy? How many kids are we talking here?)

  From Candy Ever After (Unpublished epilogue to the serial Candy Boys)

  Early morning light is coloring the sky outside the kitchen window. Armed with strong coffee, loaded with sugar, I’m sitting at the table, my laptop open in front of me, my glasses perched high on my nose.

  I’ve left my two boyfriends asleep in bed, their limbs twined together. That’s a rare sight for me. Jet is almost never in bed when I wake up, woken earlier by a nightmare or two, and Joel often gets up before me.

  But today I woke up first and couldn’t go back to sleep. Not even the sight of their peaceful, handsome faces side by side in bed couldn’t keep me there any longer.

  My stomach is in knots, and I’m not even sure why. I don’t want to face the why, since yes, deep inside I know the reason.

  Not this early in the morning.

  A bright morning, too, cloudless for now, the windows of the building across the street reflecting a blinding splash of sunlight.

  I turn back to my laptop screen, taking another sip of my coffee, pondering the words I’ve just written on my epilogue to the Candy Boys story.

  Yep. Still hammering at that, despite my unfounded, ridiculous fears. Sure, I haven’t posted any of that online. As if keeping the words to myself will protect them. Protect the story.

  Protect my reality from any evil eye, any malevolent power watching.

  Jesus, Candy. Talk about the Middle Ages.

  Though, what’s the use of posting it online, apart from giving pleasure to the fans of the story that I took down so suddenly and never finished?

  Right, there’s that. A community that was my family of sorts for a long time. After Connie’s betrayal and Joel’s shock at the photo posted and his discovery of the story about us on my blog, I took everything down and severed all ties with readers and bloggers who’d been my company for two years.

  It had to be done. My boys, our relationship, real life was more important than any story.

  Then why do I keep wanting to go back to that? I could post other stories that have been percolating in my mind. Not about me and my boys, but about other, imaginary characters. Would my readers take me back? Would they forgive me for vanishing without an explanation?

  Why should I care?

  … maybe because this has been important to me. Writing stories. Interacting with readers. Creating worlds, even if this last one was too close to reality. Writing stories defined me. Helped me define myself in a community. It made me feel good, powerful, useful, needed.

  Made me feel irreplaceable.

  Sure, my boys make me feel that way, too, even more so. But that’s through them. Through their love for me. Whereas the story writing was through myself.

  I’m not even sure I’m making sense. I need more coffee. Early mornings, that’s not me. I’m not yet quite awake.

  But the story, this epilogue, insists to be written. I can see the scenes unfold, hear the dialogue in my ears. I can practically taste this happy ending.

  Why am I so afraid to put it down in words?

  Putting down my mug on the table, I contemplate the story. It doesn’t matter. My fingers fly over the keyboard as I add another line to the dialogue between J-One and J-Two. They’re discussing whether they should dress in matching suits for the wedding, or in mirror suits—one of them in pale gray with a black shirt and white bowtie, the other one in a black suit and bowtie and a white shirt.

  In the story, Candy is already off the pill, since they have decided to start trying for a baby. She is so happy.

  I pause, a lump in my throat. I am so happy, too, so what’s wrong with me? It’s too soon to be discussing babies and weddings with my boys.

  Heck, Joel hasn’t even told his parents yet…

  And there it is. The elephant in the room. The fear I’ve been hiding from, the fear Jet passed to me and it’s now sitting on top of my more general insecurity.

  Joel won’t leave us. He won’t listen to his parents. I know it in my heart.

  But if he does? If Jet is right and Joel leaves him, then he will leave me, too, right? And in any case, I wouldn’t be able to choose between them—and wouldn’t want to. Couldn’t love Joel anymore if he left Jet to be with me, anyway.

  Joel won’t walk away.

  I have to believe it. Believe in him.

  I thought Jet believed in him. He has known Joel much longer than I have.

  Then again, Jet is mistrustful by nature, and his dad’s attack has shaken him badly.

  Is it that Jet needs our support until he gets over the attack and the nightmares and finds his faith in Joel and me?

  Or is it that Joel relies so much on his parents’ opinion of him that he may not come back?

  Shit.

  I sigh and pull the laptop shut. Wrapping my hands around the warmth of my mug, I take a sip and check the time on my cell phone.

  Seven fifteen. I wonder if the boys are up—and right on cue, I hear the murmur of voices and the sound of water running from the bathroom.

  On my phone there’s also a message from Brylee. I tap a finger over the icon to open it and choke on my coffee.

  It’s a pic of a dildo-shaped cake.

  Or a penis-shaped cake? Hard to tell. It’s… pink and disturbingly life-like. Below she has written, “I’m baking this for the party.”

  Oh no. Hell no.

  “Bry, NO,” I text back. “Don’t you dare. Just bake cookies. Or whatever. Just not this.”

  She doesn’t text back, and I huff, putting the phone down. Thank God she thought to tell me first. Can’t imagine her arriving with that cake. If Joel’s parents come…

  Will they come?

  I’m staring down at the blank screen of my phone when Jet stalks into the kitchen. He looks so cute with his dark hair sticking up in all directions, but his eyes are bloodshot and his mouth drawn down at the corners.

  “Hey,” I whisper, already rising from my seat to give him a hug. “Are you okay? Is—?”

  He lifts his hand, stopping me. “I’m heading out.”

  His tone stings. “Where?” I demand.

  I normally don’t pry, but hey. I’m his girlfriend. I care, okay?

  “I’m gonna go running.”

  That’s when I notice he’s dressed in his sports shoes, leggings and hoodie. “On your own? Without Joel?”

  “Yeah, on my own. I can damn well do stuff on my own.”

  My breath catches. “Then go.”

  He doesn’t move. His back is stiff. “Sorry, Candy Pop.” His voice softens. “Didn’t mean to snap at you. I just need to clear my head.”

  “Okay.” I give him a shaky smile when he comes behind me and leans over, giving me a quick hug. “If there’s anything you want to talk about—”

  “I’ll come talk to you, then. I promise.” He drops a kiss on my hair and straightens. “See you later.”

  Concerned, I watch as he leaves the kitchen. “Don’t shut me out, Jet,” I whisper. “Don’t backslide, not now.”

  Not when we’re finally hitting our stride and finding out what real happiness feels like. I want to blame Joel for Jet’s moodiness, but I’m not even sure it’s his fault. Between Joel’s stress and the combo of my crazy mom and my insecurities, Jet’s nightmares and the stress and pain of the past months catching up with him, it’s no wonder he’s about to snap.

  How can I fix this? What can I do?

  We all need to sit down and talk. Talk with Joel, ask him… what? If he’s thinking of leaving? Seriously?

  And speaking of whom…

  A rumpled-looking Joel wanders into the kitchen, dressed only in l
ow-slung sweats, dark hair falling in his eyes, and a lopsided grin.

  “Morning, sunshine.” He comes over to kiss me, and I fall into the kiss and the feel of his strong hands on my face.

  How can I doubt this? Doubt him? He loves us. He’s stuck with us and he looks happy. Not at all like a man who will let anyone change his mind.

  Right?

  “Where’s Jet?” he asks as he pours himself a mug of steaming coffee. “He was very quiet this morning.”

  “He’s gone out for a run.”

  He turns around, brows arched. “Alone?”

  “Yeah. That’s unusual, right?” The worry is back, nibbling at my stomach lining.

  He shrugs after a moment and turns back to the coffee maker. “A little.”

  Before I ask him for clarification, my cell phone rings and I glance at it. Oh crap, it’s Mom. I let it go to voicemail.

  “So he’s done it before?”

  “Yeah. When he was fucking upset.”

  The phone starts ringing once more. I’d ignore it again, but she doesn’t often call me so early, and my stomach can’t take any more worry right now.

  With a sigh, I pick it up. “Yeah?”

  “Good morning!” my mom singsongs into my ear. Nobody should have the right to be so chirpy this early in the day. “How’s my baby girl doing?”

  “Still in the process of waking up,” I inform her. “Mom, is everything okay?”

  “Actually,” she says, “no. I’m looking for a reliable escort service and don’t know where to start. I’m desperate, girl, do you happen to know one? Asking for a friend.”

  “No, I don’t. Mom…” My blood has turned to ice. “Why would you want an escort service?”

  “Oh Candace, I just told you. I’m asking for a friend.” She laughs, a high-pitched nervous sound that screeches down my nerve endings.

  Only it never is, is it? For a friend. “Mom…”

  Joel is waving at me from the kitchen door. He mouths “Gotta go,” and walks out.

  Crap. I had hoped to talk to him, even if I’m not sure what I could have said.