Ride or Die 2

by Claire C. Riley

  I stood at the side of the bed, knowing I was having the same argument that I’d had with myself years before. Only this time, Butch wasn’t there to fuck things up and change my mind. I watched as she slept on peacefully, oblivious to the torment I was going through. I wished I knew peace like that. Wished that I could fucking sleep like that. Every time I closed my eyes I saw Butch, and I saw his face when I’d told him to go. The hurt in his eyes that he tried to hide from his face, but I saw anyway.

  Harlow murmured and turned over in her sleep and I could see her face, now clear of makeup and tears, and damn, she really was beautiful. Even after all this time, and all the shit she had no doubt gone through. An innocence clung to her, like it always had. An innocence that begged for me to keep it close and protect it.

  Her eyes slowly opened, her drowsy gaze meeting mine, and a soft smile played on her lips when she recognized me. She pulled the covers back and invited me into her bed. Even in the dark I could see she was only wearing her bra and panties, and I knew any other man would see this as an invitation for something more from her. I nodded okay and unbuttoned my jeans, letting them fall to my ankles where I kicked them off, and then I shrugged out of my cut and placed it over the back of a chair. Wearing only my boxers I climbed into bed next to her, pulling her petite body roughly against my large one so I could wrap myself around her.

  She was hot and I was cold, and together our body heat mingled to find a comfortable in-between, just like always. Her breasts pressed against my arms, her legs entwined with mine, and I breathed a sigh of relief as peace continued to wash through me, cleansing me. I kissed the back of her head and breathed a deep lungful of her inside of me, allowing everything Harlow to engulf my body, mind, and soul. I squeezed her harder and she stroked her fingers up and down my arm, pressing herself tighter against me, closer, almost like we were becoming one person.

  “I missed this,” she said, her voice thick with sleep.

  “I missed you,” I replied honestly.

  She made a noise like she agreed. Her fingers continued to trail down my arm slowly, sending shivers across me. I thought about all the times Harlow and I had lain together like this. Years ago, back when we were just two kids without a clue what we were doing or the consequences of our actions. When things were simultaneously both easy and hard between us. And way before I fucked everything up and broke her heart.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, my voice gruff.

  She hushed me, her hand sliding down my arm until it reached my hand, which she gave a squeeze, her fingers locking with mine. She hushed me again and kissed the knuckles on the back of my hand.

  It suddenly felt like the most important thing in the world, though—for her to know how fucking sorry I was. I turned her in my arms so that we were chest to chest, our noses inches apart. Her breath washed over my face and I rubbed the hair back from her face so I could look her in the eye and tell her the truth—to give her my brutal and honest apology.

  “I’m serious,” I said. “I’m sorry for hurting you. I never meant to. I mean, I knew I would, but it was never my intention. I just needed to get away. I needed…”

  “I know,” she said. She blinked up at me, the sleepiness sliding away. “I know why you did it, and I guess I don’t really blame you for it—at least not anymore, because I understand now. We all do things we regret for our own survival.”

  My heart thumped against my chest, so hard she could probably feel it all the way through to hers. “I always loved you, Red. You know that, right?”

  She gave me a sad smile. “I know.”

  “Still fuckin’ love you,” I said. And I meant it too.

  I loved Harlow, my innocent girl with the red hair, who’d grown up to be the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen with the fire in her belly that matched her hair. She was everything to me that a woman could ever be.

  She reached up and tangled her hand in my hair, and I leaned down, pressing a hard kiss to her lips.

  There was no tongue involved, and our lips remained closed, but there was enough passion in that kiss to engulf us both and send us down in flames. My hands clung to her tiny waist and I pressed my mouth harder to hers, willing myself to feel something more—anything. She pulled out of the kiss and stared at me, the glint of her eyes shining at me in the dark.

  “Go to sleep, Dom,” she whispered, a small smile on her face. “We’ll talk tomorrow.” She ran her fingers down the side of my face. “You look so tired, baby,” she whispered, pressing another kiss to my lips. “So so tired.”

  I nodded in agreement, though she had no fucking clue how tired I really was. I pulled her against my chest, her small body pressed against mine. And then, for the first time in months, I fell asleep unafraid of the dreams that were waiting for me. Because I had Harlow there, with me, and everything was going to be okay.

  Chapter twenty:

  Dom

  I woke to the smell of bacon and pancakes, a small smile twisting my features before I’d even opened my eyes. The sound of Harlow downstairs, banging pots and pans as she prepared breakfast, was a beautiful thing to wake up to.

  I opened my eyes, and with my hands behind my head I stared up at the ceiling, holding onto the peaceful feeling that had settled in me overnight.

  This was how it could be all the time. If I just let it.

  I wanted it so bad I could taste it on my tongue.

  Happiness. Security. Love. Comfort. I could have it all.

  All I had to do was just forget and then move on.

  The pain, the misery, the ache in my heart would be gone. All of it.

  It was that simple…wasn’t it?

  The image of Butch tried to force its way through to the forefront of my mind, but I pushed it away—I pushed him away. I had to do this or I would never be happy.

  And a man deserved happiness, at the very least.

  I took a deep breath and flung the covers back before getting out of bed. I pulled my jeans on and headed down the stairs. Harlow was still in the kitchen, sliding breakfast onto some of my old, chipped plates. Think they’d been there when I bought the house, though it’d be better to never tell her that.

  I watched her silently from the doorway for several seconds before she noticed me, looking up with a smile.

  “You should still be sleeping—it’s early still,” she said with a smile.

  She was wearing one of my old ratty tees, but it looked amazing on her. She opened the refrigerator door and bent over to look inside, the material lifting to show off the bottom of her ass cheeks. She had a beautiful ass—pert and firm, like her tits if I remembered correctly, and I willed my cock to come to life at the sight of her. But of course it didn’t.

  “I would still be sleeping, but I think I have raccoons or some shit like that,” I said.

  She closed the refrigerator door and looked at me with concern. “Raccoons?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. I woke up and there was this awful fucking commotion coming from my kitchen.”

  She laughed and threw a dish towel at me, which I caught easily. “Asshole. I thought you were serious.”

  I walked further into the room, going to sit at the other side of the breakfast bar as she slid a plate of bacon and pancakes across to me. “I was! I bet it’s eating everything in my kitchen by now too.”

  We both looked across at the mess of my kitchen, the egg shells and pans and oil, and started to laugh.

  “You’re an asshole,” she muttered, and sat down across from me.

  “You already said that.” I smirked and picked up a slice of bacon before biting down on it. Perfect, every fucking time.

  “Yeah?” she laughed.

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, did I tell you that you’re also a disgusting pig who needs to clean his home more often?” she smarted.

  My smile fell a little. “House,” I said. And when she looked confused, I explained further. “This is a house, not a home. A house is a building that is functional. It is
a pretense at a home because it is has no soul. A home is something more, something real,” I said, repeating her own words back to her.

  “A home is something more. Something real. It’s bliss. It’s freedom, it’s love unconditional, and it’s where a soul can be free of its reins and its shackles, and you can just be you,” she continued, her gaze holding mine.

  “Something like that, yeah.” I smiled and picked up another piece of bacon. “I mean, I paraphrased,” I joked.

  “You remembered my poem,” she said and I looked up at her, taking in her soft features. “After all this time.”

  “Yeah, even after all this time.”

  When Harlow and I had been dating, many years before, I’d stumbled across one of her poems in an old diary. Her stuff was so good it fucking blew my mind. I sent in one of her poems to the local paper and they published it in a small section at the back where they featured new talent. It was supposed to be the start of something good for her. But shit never works out the way you want it to.

  She blushed and looked away, her forehead scrunching up as she stared out the window to the backyard.

  “What you thinking, Red?” I asked, pushing my plate away.

  She looked at me and shook her head, her red hair falling around her face.

  “You’ve never looked more beautiful than you do right now,” I said.

  Harlow looked away, her cheeks turning pink. “Don’t.”

  “I mean it.”

  She shook her head. “No, you don’t.”

  I stood up and went to her. Standing in front of her, I reached down and put my fingers on the bottom of her chin and made her look up to me. “Why?” I asked. “What’s so wrong with saying what I’m thinking?”

  Her eyes were glassy. “You know why, Dom. We both do.”

  “I think we can make it work,” I said on a breath, finally getting the words out.

  She stared at me, her forehead creasing in confusion. “Dom—,”

  I smiled and leaned down to press a kiss on her lips. When I pulled away she looked confused.

  “You don’t mean that, Dom, and that’s okay, really it is.”

  “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it, Red.”

  She looked away from me and shook her head. “Dom, this isn’t right.”

  Frustration filled me. “Isn’t this what you wanted? Isn’t it what you’ve always wanted?”

  She shook her head. “Not like this, no.”

  I laughed bitterly and opened my arms wide. I took a step back so she could get a good look at the prize I was offering her. “Come on, Red, this is it, your big fucking chance. I’m putting myself out on the line for you here, woman!”

  “You’re putting yourself on the line for me?” she scowled. “No, no, Dom, just no!” Harlow hopped down from her stool and tried to walk away, but I stood in her way, preventing her from leaving. “Stop it, Dom,” she said, her voice a whisper. “You’re scaring me.”

  “I’m scaring you, Harlow?” I asked and she nodded quickly. “Fuck you, I’m scaring you!” I laughed.

  She reached out to touch my arm. “Stop it!”

  I jerked my arm away like she’d burnt me with her touch. All the love I felt for her began to sour into anger, like milk curdling. I glared at her, the happiness I’d felt moments before turning ugly and putrid. Because after everything, she was turning me down.

  “Stop it! You want me to stop it?” I said, moving forward and backing her into the corner. “After all this time, you want to me to stop? Ain’t this the dream for you? Dom and Harlow, together at last. No Butch in the way to fuck it up for you this time, huh? Your parents not around to give me shit about not being good enough for their precious little Harlow. We’re good to go. Even got you a readymade house and everything.” I undid the top button of my jeans with one hand and pressed my other hand between her legs. “Come on, Harlow, give it up for the man you’ve always wanted but could never have!” I yelled, getting angrier by the second.

  Harlow lifted her chin to me, her eyes burning into mine. “I wanted you to love me,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “And I do! What more do you fucking want?” I roared in frustration. “What more can I give you? You got my house, my heart—what else? Name it and it’s yours!”

  She pressed her own hand to my crotch, her fingers gripping my flaccid cock. “I’ll never have this, though, will I, Dom? And your heart, you say it’s mine, but it’s not. The love you have for me is the type you have for a friend, or your sister. It’s not what you have for someone who fills your heart. The type of love you had for Butch!” she sobbed.

  I stepped back from her like she’d physically slapped me. “He’s dead and you’re still fucking jealous of him? Is that it, Harlow? You worried you can’t compete with his cock?”

  She sobbed louder, tears rolling down her cheeks. “No!”

  I sneered. “Really? ’Cause that’s what it sounds like to me. You’re jealous of a dead man’s cock, and you say I’m fucked up!”

  “Dom, stop it! It’s not like that!”

  “But it is, bitch!” I yelled in her face.

  She pushed at my chest and I slammed the wall at the side of her head. She squealed and slapped me across the face and then ducked under my arm, heading toward the hallway. I chased after her, grabbing her by the shoulder and slamming her against the wall before she made it out of the room.

  “Then tell me what it’s like then. Because all I know is that you’ve been chasing me for fucking years with those big eyes and bouncy tits of yours, and when I finally give it to you on a plate, you fucking turn me down.” I stared into her face, hating the fear I saw pass through her. “Why? What the fuck’s wrong now?”

  “I don’t love you anymore,” she said, her words barely audible. “Not like that.”

  “Excuse me? What did you just say?” I gritted out.

  “I said I don’t love you anymore!” she yelled back.

  “You don’t fucking love me?” I laughed in her face. “Sure you don’t,” I mocked.

  I turned and walked away from her, heading to get a beer, when a plate of pancakes and bacon came flying past my head, missing me by millimeters. I turned around abruptly, just in time to see her pick up the other plate and launch that one at me too. I ducked and it hit the wall behind me, smashing into several pieces.

  I must have looked fucking ferocious because she turned and bolted out of the room, and barely a second went by before I ran after her. She was already at the bottom of the stairs and I chased her all the way up them as her bedroom door slammed shut and I heard the lock slide into place.

  I launched my fist at the door and she screamed at me to go away.

  “It’s my fucking house, Harlow, now open the motherfucking door!” I threw my fists at the door again as she screamed from the other side. “I said open the door!”

  “No!” she screamed back, which only pissed me off further.

  Deep down I knew I was being a bastard, and I swear I could hear Butch telling me to fucking breathe and walk away because I was acting like a psycho, but I couldn’t.

  I don’t know how long I stood there hammering on that door and screaming at her to open it, but it was long enough for my voice to grow hoarse and painful and her sobbing to subside. I stalked into my bedroom, even more wound up than I had been earlier, but I was at the peak of my anger and the other side was waiting for me.

  I wasn’t really sure how things had gotten so fucked up this morning. I had set out with the best of intentions, and yet I’d still destroyed it.

  You gotta let her go, Butch said from the corner of my room. Set her free before you break her completely.

  “Fuck off!” I called back, but he only laughed at me.

  I put my head in my hands and willed myself to calm down, to stem the tide of bubbling anger that was rising up inside me. Unfortunately the sound of a motorbike engine sounded outside, shortly before I heard Harlow unlock her bedroom door and start running down
the stairs.

  I turned and ran after her, bounding down the stairs as she flung open the front door and ran outside. I reached the doorway, watching as she ran toward a serious-looking Casa.

  “Casa? What did I tell you about going near her?” I roared, my already-hoarse voice growing deeper. And fuck me I wished I was wearing my gun right now.

  She climbed onto the bike behind him, her arms wrapping around his middle as he started to duckwalk the bike backwards. His gaze kept darting back to me, his jaw twitching like he had a whole heap to fucking say to me but was restraining himself from saying it.

  Harlow said something in his ear and he nodded and looked away from me, and I let out a loud laugh.

  “You fucking running from me, Casa? You scared what I’ll do to that pretty face of yours?” I walked down the steps, my bare feet crunching over the gravel of my driveway. “You fucking should be. Go on, you keep going, you fucking coward!”

  Casa looked back at me, his gaze sweeping to Harlow for a split second before he shut off the engine, his gaze meeting mine head on. He smiled and climbed off the bike, pushing away Harlow as she grabbed at him.

  “Please, Casa!” she cried.

  “I ain’t scared of nothin’ and no one,” he said to me, that stupid fucking grin of his still in place.

  Chapter twenty-one:

  Casa

  “Please, Casa! Please, let’s just leave, please!” H pleaded with me, her hands gripping my waist tightly even as I shrugged her off.

  I’d never seen Dom look like that before. Not ever.

  The man looked fucking possessed.

  A normal man would have been worried—maybe even fucking frightened. But I was no normal man. And the look of rage on his face and the look of fear on hers all spurred me on more.

  No man should ever make a woman feel like that. Ever. I may fuck women and leave them hanging, but I’d never make her fear me. And I was not going to stand by and let either of them think that any of this shit was okay. I might have been a violent motherfucker, but I was never a violent motherfucker toward women. My grandma raised me right.