Hayden_Four Sons Series

by J. D. Hollyfield

  The elevator door opens to the penthouse. It’s just a small hallway and door separating me and what may turn out to be a very bad decision. With a deep breath and a silent pep talk to go get him, I step off the elevator and raise my hand to knock.

  The door opens before my hand ever reaches it, but no one’s there. It leaves me no choice but to push it the rest of the way and walk in.

  “I assume you’re lost?” Hayden’s voice comes from the left, and I turn to see him walking into his living room. My breath catches at his back. He’s shirtless. His skin is tan and muscular. These past months have agreed with him. He’s clearly been hitting the gym. More muscle. His hair is longer, but he still keeps it wild and hot.

  “I…nope, right place,” I say, walking farther into the place. Man, it’s nice. For someone his age, he sure lives the life. “Your place is awesome,” I say, not sure how else to start since he isn’t even giving me his attention.

  “Cam likes it,” he states, as if he’s not here for himself, but for his brother. When he finally turns to face me, my stomach drops.

  “Hayden,” I whisper his name, no hiding the anguish in my voice. He looks horrible. His eyes are dark, circles lining them. He had to have skipped every meal this week. I look around and see beer bottles littering the coffee table.

  He runs his hands though his hair, making it look even more wild and unkept. He scans the sight I’m taking in. “Welcome to my life. If you have an opinion, then get the fuck out.” This time, his hurtful words don’t faze me. I know he’s hurting. I tread slowly into the living room until I’m close enough to smell the booze on his breath.

  I’m not sure if he’ll let me, but I try anyway. I raise my hand and cup his cheek. His skin is clammy. My heart swells when he doesn’t push me away and leans into my hand instead. “Hayden, you have to stop doing this to yourself.” I can’t stop the tears that begin to fall. He looks so pained. So lost. “You’re not taking care of yourself.” I lift my free hand to caress the other side of his face just as he raises his to wipe at my wet cheek.

  “It’s two years tomorrow,” he says, as if he didn’t hear a single word I just spoke.

  “I know,” I reply.

  “If he were here, he’d probably be planning a huge barbeque. Cooking his damn burgers and inviting over half the town just to show off whatever new toy he just bought.”

  “I bet he would.”

  “Why are you crying?” he asks, as if I’m the one who needs nurturing.

  “Because you’re torturing yourself and it hurts so bad to stand by and watch you lose yourself.” The tears start pouring down my face. “I’m sorry I left. If I would have just stood up to you and stuck it out, maybe you wouldn’t be so broken.”

  Hayden grabs my face and lifts my chin, so I have no choice but to stare deep into his eyes. “You should have left me long before you did. I was never good for you.”

  “Yes, you were—”

  “No, I wasn’t. I should have cherished you. Instead, I took all my fucked-up issues out on you.” He bends down, touching his forehead to mine. “I should never have forced you to stay. I was being selfish with you. I wanted you to myself. Even though I knew I wasn’t in the best place. I was far from able to give you what you truly wanted. And I spent that entire year taking advantage of you.”

  He pulls me into his arms, and I wrap mine around him, holding on for dear life. I begin to sob, thinking of all the regret and wrong choices we’ve both made. Once upon a time, we were so in love. There wasn’t a moment that passed when our time wasn’t spent together. Our thoughts were on each other. We had our rough patches like any other couple, but ours were different. We shared a bond so many couples never get to share. He had his demons. I knew that. I didn’t go into our relationship blind. But my tears are for allowing them to get between us.

  “Stop crying,” he whispers into my hair, but it only makes me cry harder. That’s when I feel my feet being lifted and I’m in his arms. He carries me over to the couch and sits us down with me on his lap, allowing me to break down for the both of us. I know he’s hurting. I feel it in the way he’s holding me so close. With each breath, he inhales the scent of my hair, my skin. “I’ve missed you so much.” The words are so soft, I barely hear them. I don’t say anything, so he continues. “I thought so many things in my life would break me. My father dying. My mother. All the fucked-up shit I’ve had to endure. But nothing amounted to the pain and guilt I felt the night I lost it. The way I handled you. Spoke to you.”

  I lift my head off his chest and look deep into his eyes. “I forgive you, you know. I did a long time ago.”

  His hand brushes a loose strand of hair off my cheek. “You shouldn’t have. I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

  “You deserve to be happy, Hayden. You deserve to live your life, free of all the demons haunting you.”

  “I don’t know how to live that life. I’m not a good person. I don’t act out of kindness. I act out of revenge. The way I’ve treated people…you—I don’t deserve that happy life. I deserve exactly what’s been coming to me.”

  “See, that’s where you’re wrong.” I pull his face to mine and press my lips to his. I wait to see if he pulls away, but he does the opposite. His hands cup the side of my head, increasing the pressure of our kiss. My belly erupts with butterflies as he widens and parts my lips, pushing his tongue inside to dance around mine. There were so many nights I dreamt about having his mouth back on mine. Despite all his troubles, Hayden was my safe place. His kiss, his touch, the way he spoke to me—it all made me feel whole. Made everything else in the world right.

  When that was gone, I started to question my sanity. I went home and struggled with myself. I loved him. My heart needed him. But he wasn’t well. Then again, who truly is in this world? The good dreams were when he would come to me and we would make love, and his mouth would touch every single part of me. The bad ones would throw me off my axis for days—the one repeating our last night together, his hateful words and rejection. They played over and over, opening old wounds.

  But being in his arms again, I know this is right. “I love you. I never stopped loving you. I need you to know that,” I say through our passionate kiss.

  With a quick jolt, he’s up with me in his arms, carrying us down a long hallway to a bedroom. Laying me on the pristine bed that looks like it hasn’t ever been slept in, he crawls on top of me.

  “If there was anything missing in my life. A hole, a darkness. You were always the one to fill it. Make me feel whole.” He bends down, putting his mouth over mine. We kiss and savor each emotion, feeling, this moment, as if we may not get another one, until our lungs give in and he pulls away. “Are you real? Are you going to disappear like you always do in my dreams? Am I going to wake up from this beautiful nightmare with you gone?”

  My heart aches at his question. I feel the same. Having him above me. His lips on mine. The fear that this is too similar to my own dreams. I raise my hands and wrap them around his neck. “I’m real. This is real. Us. It’s all real.”

  It takes some time for my words to fully register. For him to believe I won’t fade into the back of his conscience. When they do, I watch as the fire I used to create in him lights behind his blue irises, sending a wave of sensation to my toes. “God, Katie, I’ve missed you.” He pulls at the spaghetti strap of my summer dress, revealing my naked breast. His tongue is on my flesh, sucking my nipple hard into his mouth. “I’ve missed touching you, tasting you, hearing your voice, smelling every single scent you radiate.” He bites down hard on my nipple, and my back bows off the mattress. “I’ve spent the last few months wondering if I’d ever see you again…if I ever got to touch you, if you’d taste the same—feel the same. If your cunt still knows who owns it.” His fingers slide down my waist, pulling at the hem of my dress. He finds my thin panties and pushes them to the side, answering his own question. “Fuck, always so wet. You were made for me.” He enters me, pushing his finger so deep, his
knuckles stop him from going any further. He retracts and enters me again, then adds another finger, always knowing what I like.

  “Still a little naughty one I see.” He chuckles and moves to my other breast, working with his mouth and finger, until I feel the tightness in my belly. Knowing I’m on edge, he pulls his mouth off my nipple with a pop and slides down my body. Lifting my dress, he yanks on my underwear, tearing them clean off. His mouth is on me, closing around my sex while his fingers work in and out of me.

  “Hayden,” I purr, threading my fingers through his unruly hair. I squeeze and tug at every lick and bite. He pulls out, then slams three thick fingers back inside. It’s been so long since anyone has been inside me. Before our connection in his office, three months to be exact. There’s been no one since Hayden. He bites down on my clit, and I explode, white dots blasting through my frontal lobe. Before I come down, he’s up and ripping off his shorts.

  I wish I could freeze time to admire how beautiful he is. In every single way. He climbs back on, places the tip of his cock at my center, then looks at me, asking for approval. But he doesn’t need to. I belong to him. I always have.

  With a quick thrust, he pushes inside me. We moan in unison at the familiar feeling, our bodies fitting perfectly together.

  “Fuck, I can’t go slow with you. I want to. You deserve slow and wonderful, but I can’t. I need to fuck you. And own you. And show you just how fucking bad I need you.”

  “Just as bad as I need you. Own me. I’ve always been yours,” I say, knowing it will calm his worries. And it does. He pulls out and slams into me with the might of a bull. Over and over, he fucks me with fury all while I ride the waves of ecstasy.

  * * *

  The sun piercing through the windows forces me to open my eyes. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. It was well past two in the morning when we both finally fell into bed, waving our white flags. I just meant to rest my eyes, then catch an uber back to Lucy’s.

  A wave of anxiety hits. I shouldn’t have stayed. I raise my head and turn to check the time, spotting Hayden lying next to me. Eyes open. “Oh…uh…hi.”

  “Morning.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

  “I’m glad you did. I forgot how amazing it felt to wake up next to you.”

  My heart does a triple flip at this comment. I know my cheeks are starting to blush like a stupid ass schoolgirl because his mischievous smile gives it away.

  “Did you want me to—?”

  “Go? Never. I would keep you forever if I could.” His comment is sweet yet sour all the same. A line he would say to me all the time in the past. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. I just meant…I want you to stay. I—I need you to stay.”

  I let the comment fade into the back of my mind and roll over so I’m facing him. “Are we okay?” I ask. What happened last night was amazing. The connection we shared, there are no words, but does that make us okay?

  “I want us to be. I want so many things to be okay. I want these past few months to never have happened. I want a redo with you. With my brothers. With Trevor.”

  “And your dad?” I ask, knowing today is the day—the second anniversary of Eric’s death.

  “I just want to be at peace with him. He was who he was. Some of us chose to love him for that, and some didn’t. I was supposed to shelter Camden from all the hate, and I was the one leading the parade right to our front door.”

  “Are you and Trevor okay?” I have to ask. Lucy was only able to give me bits and pieces of their throw-down. I know Hayden felt defeated after their argument. He spent months with this theory making him sick only to find out the truth is beyond what he could imagine.

  “I just don’t know what to do with that information. I don’t know if I should tell Nixon. He has the right to know. He almost looked disappointed when I’d confirmed Trevor wasn’t his father. As if I took something from him. Now, to bring up all those old emotions, would I be doing more harm than good?”

  If anyone is deserving of love more than Hayden, it’s Nix. And I have to agree. What good would it do to let him know a deadbeat con artist was his real father?

  Hayden reaches for my hand, pulling it to his heart. “Will you come with me today…with us to the cemetery and the party afterwards?”

  I give him a look that he knows well. The look I gave in the past when he needed reassurance.

  “I’ll be right next to you the entire way.”

  Chapter Eight

  Hayden

  “Crazy, it’s been two years. Sometimes it feels like yesterday,” Nixon says, handing Erica a rose and encouraging her to lay it on the headstone. Rowan sniffles and smiles at Nixon as she squeezes his arm for support.

  I barely remember burying him.

  I remember the weather, though.

  It was sunny, not a cloud in the sky. I’m sure he had a hissy fit up there bossing everyone around on how he wanted his burial to turn out. He never took shit from anyone. Except maybe Trevor. There was a story floating around that Trevor broke Dad’s nose over him interfering with him and Lucy. Trevor nor Lucy have confirmed our suspicions, but we all think my dad, for the first time ever, got his ass kicked.

  “Do you think he watches over us? Like how they all say dead people do when they die?” The five of us look at Brock, not sure if he’s fucking with us or not. “What? Just curious. I’ve been watching those medium shows at school where they talk to the dead and they’re all haunted by their relatives and shit.” He shrugs his shoulders and tosses his flowers.

  If he were, I wonder what he would say? Would he be proud of his sons? Would he approve of Nixon’s dedication to his daughter? Would he tell me he’s proud of how I’m handling Four Fathers? Would he still coddle Camden and quiz him night after night like I do now on his knowledge of politics and foreign trade?

  Would he ever tell us he was glad he had four sons?

  “I think he did the best he could with us. He had his own demons—we all do. I think, in the end, he went down exactly how he would have wanted to—swinging.” Camden’s statement is truer than any of us could have put into our own words. He throws his flower onto the grave and wraps his arms around Rowan, who’s silently weeping.

  I debate over what I would say to my father if he were standing in front of me today. At one point, I would have told him how much I hated him—despised him for how he made me feel. The way he always made sure he knew he had control over us all. But today, standing here, the sun beating down on me, staring at his headstone, I would say thank you. For showing me how to survive. To thrive when times are tough. And to learn to fight through the weak moments knowing there’s a reward in strength. I would say: here’s to letting go.

  Katie’s hand wraps around mine as I lift my other hand and toss my flower onto his grave.

  “Now that that’s out of the way, shall we celebrate the day, Eric Pearson style, with a pool party?” Brock says, and with sadness etched behind everyone’s smile, we head to the one place where it all started to celebrate where it all came to an end.

  * * *

  Ethan jumps in the pool with Brock on his tail. Rowan squeals as she gets splashed and starts yelling profanities for getting Erica wet. I watch as Nixon dives into the pool to avenge his girl and the three of them wrestle until Ethan waves the white flag.

  I look over to see Trevor still manhandling the grill laughing. Lucy, cradling a sleeping Eva, is on his ass for buying lobster tails. Don’t know what the fuck that’s all about, but she sure seems pissed. I turn over to see my girl sitting next to me, looking content and happy.

  My girl.

  Is she my girl?

  We fucked and talked and fucked ‘til the sun came up. We talked about our past, and issues I should have put on the table months ago. I told her things I should have told her instead of letting her walk out of my house months ago. That I fucking loved her. That she was my rock. That she was everything to me the second I saw her walk through th
ose hospital doors. And even though she told me the same, there was no mention of the future.

  The deja vu created a whirlwind of anxiety inside me. Me asking her to stay again, and even though she should leave, she’ll stay. What if the same shit happens? She doesn’t deserve that. But I don’t know that I can let her leave again.

  “Is it weird being back here?” Katie asks, breaking into my thoughts.

  “Yes and no. Is it weird knowing they haven’t torn down the fucking psychopath’s personal cemetery next door? Yes. But here? No matter what bad happened, good things happened too. It will always be home.”

  “Is that why you haven’t sold it yet?”

  I shrug. “Maybe. Now that I’m thinking with a clearer head…” I turn to her and wink, “maybe it’s time to let it go. Sell. Move on. Nixon has mentioned a few ideas for the land. Maybe I’ll just give it over to him.”

  She squeezes my hand and brings her eyes back to the pool. Everyone does seem happy. Content. Maybe dear old dad is looking down on us. I hear the door chimes ringing through the outdoor speakers, indicating someone’s at the front door.

  “I’ll be right back,” I tell Katie, kissing the top of her hand and making my way through the house. Opening the door, I’m met with a face I’d never thought I’d see.

  “Well, well…looks like there’s a party going on and your dear old step daddy wasn’t invited.”

  Jameson Vincent.

  The same guy from the photo, even though he looks like he’s been through a few wars and back.

  “What the fuck do you want, asshole?”

  “Wow, is that any way to talk to family?”

  I take a menacing step toward him. There’s something about his blank stare that fucking screams Nixon, and it’s unsettling. “You ain’t family to shit. Get off my fucking property before I shoot you for trespassing.”

  I go to slam the door, but he puts his foot in the way to stop it. “I don’t think so, sonny. We’re not done talkin’.”