Path of Destruction

by Cara Dee

  "Wrath…" She rolled her eyes. "I'd like to come over tonight, though."

  "Good." Frankly, it was a relief. "You have eight hours at your shitty job to think of all the things we can do to each other."

  She laughed softly and played with my belt. "I think it's my turn. You did all the work last time."

  I smiled, game for anything, and hugged her to me. "I like working you over."

  Her own smile was rueful. "I'm gonna have to be careful around you, rock star."

  I groaned at that, and I had to kiss her again. The nickname carried meaning when it came from her. She wouldn’t understand. For years before I met her, it was cool, heady—my career. Then when she danced into my life, the only one I was interested in being a rock star for was her.

  If anyone should be careful, it was me.

  "You're lethal, tiny dancer." I swept the tip of my tongue across hers, earning myself a needy little noise.

  "I have to go," she sighed. "And I mean it. You're already messing with my head. I don’t want it to blow up in our faces."

  At least we shared the same fear. With us, it tended to be a matter of when. I could feel it, which didn’t make it any better. For now, it sat like a pebble in my gut. Far better than a heavy rock, easier to ignore—momentarily.

  "I'll set the alarm," I said, giving her forehead a kiss. "See you later."

  "See ya next year," she sang.

  I chuckled. "Nerd."

  Returning inside, I found Madigan and Abel playing a video game in the living room, and though I couldn’t see Jesse anywhere, I could smell him. Someone had taken a shower in body spray.

  "Oh my God, you suck, Mad." Abel was evidently in the lead in whatever football game they were playing. "You owe me five bucks."

  Technology continued to baffle me. I sat down in the chair, stuck with a Coke while Madigan sipped his beer. "They've gotten better at the graphics, haven't they?" I remembered Sam liked video games. They'd looked nothing like this.

  "I guess we don’t really notice." Madigan stared pensively at the TV where Abel's character was cheering and declared the winner. "You stoked to start working next week?"

  I shrugged. "It'll be nice to have someplace to go every day." Not sure I'd like my job, though. "I talked to my boss on the phone yesterday—some yuppie kid. He asked me if I played any instruments."

  "For fuck's sake."

  "Yeah…" I wasn’t a household name anymore. My ego wasn’t really sure how I felt about that. In the end, I guess I always wanted my music to be known.

  "What're you gonna be doing?" he asked.

  "I was hired as a favor, so I think I'll be twiddling my thumbs somewhere in the music department." My cousin must've not told my boss much about me.

  Abel cocked his head. "Why would they hire you to do music if they don’t know you can play?"

  Good question. "My cousin who got me the job went to college with my new boss. It's just so it'll look good on paper."

  Madigan swooped in with a brief explanation of my parole requirements.

  Hearing Jesse coming down the stairs, I thought, fuck it, I might as well get this show on the road. I left Madigan and Abel, and as I reached the hallway, I halted Jesse before he could enter the living room.

  "Let's talk." I ushered him into the kitchen, where he spun around on me with a glare. I stuck my hands into the pockets of my jeans and took a casual stance. "You're good at those death stares, I'll give ya that."

  "What the fuck do you want?" He was less casual, anger rolling off of him and arms folded over his chest. "I have better things to do."

  I smirked faintly. "Like being a fucking child?" At his intensifying anger, I went on. "Look, all you're convincing me of when you act like this is that you actually want to be pissed at someone—"

  "I have every right to be furious with you," he snapped.

  I raised a brow. "What about reasons? Do you have those, too?"

  He didn’t answer, not 'cause he didn’t have anything to say—I bet he did—but because he didn’t want to. I couldn’t figure it out. Why did he feel I owed him?

  "You weren't there." He pinched the bridge of his nose and clenched his jaw. "After you got arrested, my dad flew us out to be with him, and you weren't there." Lifting his gaze, he suddenly looked ten years older. "I didn’t even know you. I'd met you once or twice. I didn’t know Mom either, but for some reason, Dad was in pieces, and I was old enough to remember every fucking bit of it."

  I said nothing, wanting him to get it off his chest. More than that, I had to know for myself. Ade and I hadn't broached any of this yet, 'cause we were too goddamn scared to face the hurt we'd caused. Or I had caused. To be honest, I guess I wasn’t certain why she was scared or avoiding the topic.

  "She wanted to die. You know that?" Jesse's features hardened. "You refused to see her during the trial, and it was all she wanted. She was panicking every day and going through withdrawals. At the same time, she had to speak up about her stepdad. The prosecutor wouldn’t leave shit alone, claiming she was lying, and the defense—your goddamn lawyers—used her to make you look like you'd saved her."

  I remembered.

  Jesse hadn't been more than nine or ten, so I bet he'd gotten some of these facts later, as he grew up, but that didn’t mean his memories weren't shitty enough. From the county jail, I'd been spared most of the hysteria from the media and everything else. Managers, agents, everyone we knew…

  Ade had been hounded.

  "Dad was devastated when she left us." The hurt was brimming, threatening to break through the hard shell of anger. I did that to him. "This was…" He pretended to think, a bitter smirk on his face. "I think, around the same time your mug shot was voted the hottest of the year." I flinched internally, and old resentment toward the press was reignited. Famous people really could do whatever the fuck they wanted. "You'd gotten your verdict and were sent to prison. The media and everyone associated with the band left Detroit. We woke up one morning, and Adeline was gone, too."

  Fuck.

  I ran a hand through my hair and stared at the floor. I was in deep shit, wasn’t I? I may have served my sentence in the eyes of the law, but I hadn't even begun picking up the pieces of the lives I'd shattered outside the prison.

  Hit with a wave of shame, I scrubbed a hand over my jaw and sat down at the table. The fucking irony. I'd been pissed at the media and fans for raising us to the heavens. Yet, I'd been high on my own ego and believed, in one way or another, I'd committed an act of mercy. Mercy for Ade, so she could move on with her life without her abusive stepdad.

  A teenager was making things painfully clear for me.

  Some hero I turned out to be. I'd never been a fucking savior. I wasn’t anything like Morgan, who'd stayed and fought for Ade.

  "So, you tell me, Hayes." Jesse walked over and rested his palms on the table. "Do I have my reasons to hate your fucking guts yet, or do you need to break my mother a bit more before it's okay for me to be pissed?"

  I cleared my throat, no goddamn clue of what to say, though it didn’t matter. Jesse left the kitchen and announced to the others that he was leaving early.

  *

  Abel was engrossed in an action movie when I returned to the living room. He had a bowl of chips on his lap, a soda can in one hand, and the remote resting on his leg. Eyes fixed on the TV.

  Madigan wasn’t as distracted. Judging by the solemn look on his face, he'd heard Jesse.

  "It'll be okay, man," he said quietly. "I get where he's coming from. He's right in a lot of ways, but don’t let him speak on Adeline's behalf."

  I nodded with a dip of my chin and didn’t say anything else on the matter. I had a lot to figure out. Having run out of denial a while ago, I couldn’t say anything I felt toward Ade was temporary. It scared me half to death, considering I'd only been out a couple weeks, but it was time for me to make some long-term decisions about my future.

  For the first time in…probably ever, I was thankful I had a shrink
to word vomit to. I was gonna need it in order to set up goals and get advice on how to talk to Ade.

  I needed a smoke, so I excused myself and stepped out on the porch. Phone in hand, I sent a text to her.

  You once told me dreams were pointless. Do you feel the same way today?

  It'd been a long time since I allowed myself to dream. If I did, I saw her silly smile, nose scrunch, and piano tinkering. That hadn't changed. I saw music; I missed music. Creating it, playing, being holed up in a studio.

  Ade replied as I stubbed out the cigarette.

  No… I have dreams, I suppose. They're just scary. Why?

  Well, fuck fears. I responded.

  Music's calling, I guess. It's intimidating. Don't know the industry anymore. We can talk later, though.

  She'd told me work was stressful during the holidays, so I didn’t need to add to that. After sending off another text, wishing her a happy New Year, I went back inside, only to be met by the sound of crying.

  It sounded strained and choppy, and worry shot through me as I reached the living room to find Madigan gone. Abel sat alone on the couch, rocking back and forth.

  "Madigan!" I stalked over to the terrace door and pushed it open, sending a gust of crisp air into the living room.

  "Getting his Xanax!" Madigan yelled from upstairs. "Where the fuck—" He growled.

  Maybe it was a decade of receiving tough love in regards to medication and treatment, but Abel's anxiety attack didn’t strike me as severe—just…escalating. It could be stopped.

  "Hey, buddy?" I got down on one knee in front of Abel, careful not to crowd him. "Abel, can you help me with something?"

  He shook his head rapidly, finding it harder to breathe. Each cry got hoarser and carried more wheezing. Needing him to stay with me in the present, I gave his knee a firm squeeze.

  "Hey, what was that wizard's name in the first movie?" I asked. "I forgot. I keep trying to remember. The one with the long beard?"

  "Prob-pr…" He sucked in a breath, eyes shut and face contorted in pain. "I-I c-can't—" He fisted his hair, and the rocking grew quicker. "Probably—D-Dumble-d-dore."

  "That’s the one. And he's evil, right?"

  "Wh-what? No," he cried.

  "Are you sure?" I forced myself to sound more skeptical than…well, like I wanted to freak the fuck out. "Think about it. He dumped Harry Potter with those sons'a bitches."

  Behind me, I heard Madigan returning, and I held out an arm to caution him.

  "He-he didn’t have a-a choice!" Abel gulped then groaned around a sob and covered his face with his hands. "The school w-wasn’t safe."

  I racked my brain for more questions. It was pure luck Abel had stayed at the park long enough for me actually to watch the movie after Ade and I fucked upstairs the other day, but Jesus Christ. It was Abel's obsession, not mine.

  "Focus on your breathing." I started tapping an easy beat on his knee with two fingers, hoping he could concentrate on it. "Why wasn’t the school safe?"

  While Abel struggled to explain, Madigan slowly made it over to the couch and sat down with a glass of water and a pill.

  He looked to me in question, and I shook my head. I didn’t think the Xanax was necessary this time. It was getting easier for Abel to talk, and his breathing was evening out, almost matching the beat I drummed on his leg.

  "Dude." Madigan kept his voice low and raised his eyebrows at me. The question was clear.

  "I know a thing or two about being a prisoner," I replied quietly. Anxiety was similar. You felt trapped. Stuck in wretchedness. "That’s great, buddy. Can you tell me about the bad guy? Why's everyone afraid to say his name?"

  By now, Abel's crying had faded. There was a hitch in his breath every now and then, and he was wiping away the last of his tears as he spoke. It made me grin a bit. The kid was cute. And visibly exhausted.

  "So you know how to cure anxiety attacks, huh?" Madigan smiled wryly. "I reckon you can be useful in this family."

  I snorted under my breath. I sure as hell didn’t know how to cure anything. Prevention was another matter. A guy had to cope in prison somehow. Learning how to lessen and prevent anxiety was one of the methods.

  "Thanks for the warm welcome." I smirked.

  "Hey, I'm serious." Madigan grabbed a blanket off the armrest and fanned it out over Abel. "You're stuck with us now."

  If that was true, I could think of worse things.

  *

  2009

  I blinked sleepily and turned off the alarm clock. Four thirty in the morning, and it was officially 2009. Ade would be here any moment, so I dragged my ass out of bed and pulled on a pair of sweats.

  Like the party animal I was, I'd gone home and crashed before midnight.

  What the…? I frowned at the wall I shared with Martha. Taking a whiff, I was pretty damn sure I could smell weed. I shook my head and snatched up my phone, then padded downstairs.

  As I passed the kitchen to unlock the door, there was an incoming text from Ade.

  Almost home. Are you awake?

  I replied that I was and told her the door was open.

  With a yawn, I grabbed a bottle of water and retreated to the living room where I slumped down on the couch. I chugged half the bottle, tired as hell, and set the water on the coffee table. Leaning back, I gazed at the Christmas tree and hoped Kid was doing okay. I'd gotten so used to the routines and the same old fluorescent lights that I was expecting them to come back. It was part of my muscle memory. The Christmas tree with its warm lights and holiday colors was still unfamiliar.

  The door opened, and I lolled my head along the back of the couch to see Ade as she entered the living room. She smiled tiredly and removed her coat.

  "Hey, beautiful." I extended a hand to her.

  "Hi… Walking felony." Her smile turned impish, and I chuckled sleepily. The girl had a thing for shirtless.

  "I think you mean felon."

  "Very funny."

  I sighed contentedly as she closed the distance to join me, though there was a break in the satisfaction when she sat down on my lap.

  I hissed. "You're cold."

  "Sorry." She hummed and leaned forward, and I cupped her cheek. "I talked to Madigan. He told me about Abel's anxiety attack."

  I wasn’t interested in talking about that right now. Covering her mouth with mine, I coaxed her into a deep but lazy kiss. There was a teasing note in her voice when she asked if I wasn’t in a mood to talk, and I merely shook my head and began unbuttoning her shirt.

  She smiled into the kiss and gave me a hand, shrugging out of the button-down before unhooking her bra behind her back.

  "Christ…" I cupped her full tits and brushed my thumbs over her constricting nipples. Not for the first time, the girl had me tongue-tied. Fucking gorgeous. My cock thickened and hardened for every roll of her hips. Rubbers—I wasn’t gonna forget those this time. We had to get upstairs.

  I groaned, pushing my tongue along hers, as she raked her nails down my chest. "Pants—off." I unbuttoned hers, wondering why she hadn't gone with the skirt today.

  "Not yet," she whispered.

  "You don’t make the fucking rules," I whispered back.

  She grinned and let out a breathless laugh, and then there was cold air between us. She slid off my lap and onto the floor, eyes seductive and wild. At the sight of her smeared lipstick, I scrubbed a hand over my mouth. She was on a mission, and I was all too happy to see her pull down my sweats.

  I'd missed having her lipstick marks on my cock.

  She gripped me by the base, giving it a squeeze so her fingers could reach around. I hissed and weaved my fingers through her hair. Then she was wrapping her pouty lips around the head and coating me in saliva. I cursed around a groan, my eyelids feeling heavier.

  Oh, that’s it… My head fell back as she took me deep, tongue swirling and tracing the thick vein. Hot, wet, perfect suction. She cupped my balls and applied some pressure the next time she sucked me in.

  I l
et out a panted breath and rocked my hips. "F-fuck, tiny dancer…"

  She hummed around me and closed her eyes. "I've fantasized about your cock all night."

  "Jesus. Yeah?" I shuddered.

  "Mmhmm." She licked the underside of me, then stroked me firmly while she gave my balls some attention. "No one can make me as wet as you." She knew exactly how to drive me wild. She released my cock, so I took over and watched as she played with me. Her nails created faint lines across my thighs. Her mouth never left me. "I missed sucking you off." Her gaze flashed to mine the second she sucked one of my balls into her mouth. I found myself holding my breath. How could she look both innocent and indecent? Switching to tongue the other one, she fisted my cock again, and soon her mouth was back where I wanted it the most.

  I swallowed dryly, the pleasure building up faster than I expected. If there was one thing I hadn't lacked in the last year, it was blow jobs. Joke was on me; I hadn't taken it into consideration that this was her.

  "You bitch," I chuckled, completely out of breath. "Oh, fuck." I bucked into her. "You love that I can't get enough of you, don’t you?"

  She nodded and batted her lashes.

  My gut tightened, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I got a handful of her hair and wrapped it around my fist, and then I started fucking her mouth. Ade whimpered and sucked me harder, a trail of saliva running down my shaft. I hauled in a breath, sucker-punched by the orgasm, and let go.

  "Motherfuck—" I exploded. My release rushed up my cock, and I shoved myself as deep as I could and came down her contracting throat. She gagged and swallowed, fingers digging into my hips. Jesus, she was holding herself in place.

  I didn’t notice I was strung tight and rigid until I collapsed against the cushions and relaxed my muscles. Ade licked me clean and tucked me back into my sweats before crawling up on my lap again.

  "That was just a thank-you for…you being you. Let me know when you're ready for more." She kissed my neck and placed a hand over my heart. I smiled sleepily at her giggle. "Your heart's pounding."

  "No shit." I wrapped my arms around her, burying my nose in her hair. "You have absolutely nothing to thank me for, though."