by Ashley Jade
“I had another flashback.” Giving him a cheeky grin, I run my fingers along the doorframe. “And I’d get us mint chip ice cream for dinner, but you don’t actually like it.”
His lips curve into a smirk. “I do now.”
Past…
“Goddamn, I love your tits,” Oakley groans as he slides his dick between them.
For a moment I wish I wasn’t tied to his bedpost so I could touch him.
Then again, I would have missed out on all the fun—and orgasms—I’ve had while being at his mercy tonight.
“Oh, yeah?” I sweep my tongue along my lower lip suggestively. “Why don’t you show me how much.”
Shooting me a wolfish grin, he squeezes them in his big palms and thrusts harder. “Well, I was planning on coming in your mouth…but…” His face strains with pleasure. “I definitely don’t mind coming all over these.”
It shouldn’t be so hot watching him blow his load all over my boobs, but holy shit…it is.
The deep, gruff noises he makes while his lips part and his eyes close as he comes undone…
It’s utterly mesmerizing.
He’s like a potent narcotic—dulling all the pain—but slowly turning me into an addict.
“Christ,” he rasps, his lips ghosting over mine. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”
I mock gasp. “For a non-blonde, right?”
There’s a playful glint in his eye when he tugs on my hair. “Asshole.”
I try to close the distance between us and kiss him, but he edges away.
“We aren’t finished yet.” Smirking, he drags his thumb between my cleavage, scoping up some of the white fluid on my tits before bringing it to my mouth. “You have to clean up your mess.”
Meeting his gaze, I suck his thumb, lapping up the salty liquid.
His eyes turn smoky. “Fucking hell, baby girl.”
My heart beats like a drum as he trails open-mouthed kisses down my body, stopping right above my scar.
I inwardly flinch because I hate whenever someone draws attention to the imperfection.
The one that reminds me of the day my world was torn apart.
The pad of his finger gingerly grazes it. “What happened?”
My first instinct is to lie, but I don’t want to. Not with him.
“Car accident.”
I expect him to press me about losing my kidney, but he doesn’t.
He simply sweeps his lips over the scar and murmurs, “You’re still here, though. Which means you’re stronger than what tried to break you.”
Emotion clogs my throat and my mind reels as I process his simple, yet profound statement.
My mother’s illness might have tried to kill me, but I was stronger.
Because I survived.
Somehow, Oakley always manages to say something that not only steals my breath but makes me think of something in a whole new light.
Then again, he’s got a way with words.
“Oakley?” I whisper, hoping what I’m about to say won’t ruin the moment between us.
He looks up. “What’s up?”
“Remember when I set your weed on fire a few weeks ago?”
His jaw tics. “Yeah.”
Here goes nothing.
“Well, I sort of…kind of…looked inside your notebook and—”
“What?” he barks, shifting in bed.
“I know it was wrong, but your poems are—”
“Emo bullshit.” The tendons in his neck stand out as he thumps his chest. “But no matter how stupid they are, they’re personal and they’re mine. You had no fucking right—”
“I’m sorry,” I tell him, even though I know it won’t ease his anger or take back what I did. “I just…I couldn’t help myself.” I hold his gaze because what I have to tell him is more important than my pride. “And your poems aren’t emo bullshit…not to me. They’re amazing and—”
“Get the fuck out.” His jaw tics. “Now.”
My stomach bottoms out when I see the look of utter betrayal across his face. “I’m sorry.”
“Get out,” he repeats, harsher this time.
“I can’t.” I eye the restraints tied around my wrists. “I’m still tied up.”
The fact that he won’t even acknowledge me as he unties me, hurts like hell.
I mentally curse myself as I scan the floor for my clothes because me and my stupid big mouth just ruined everything between us.
And that’s when it occurs to me why he’s so mad.
It’s more than me reading his poems.
It’s because I stumbled upon something so personal to him.
Something that—for reasons I’ll never understand—humiliates him and makes him feel vulnerable.
And while there’s one secret that can’t ever leave my lips…
There’s also another, more sinister secret I’m keeping.
Something I never, ever want anyone to know because not only would they never understand…
They’d label me as sick and twisted.
And they’d be right, because what I did was wrong.
Even though my intentions were good.
My palms begin to sweat and my stomach churns with nerves.
Telling him will change everything between us, because there’s no way he won’t judge me.
But for some reason, I feel the need to give him this so he can see I’m willing to be vulnerable for him, too.
Even though I’m positive he’ll think I’m a disgusting mental case and want nothing to do with me afterward.
“Oakley,” I whisper.
My head is spinning so much I feel like I could pass out at any moment from the anxiety coursing through me.
He must hear the emotion in my voice because he stops tugging on his sweatpants and looks at me. “What?”
“My first kiss was with Liam.”
I regret the words the second they leave my mouth and I instinctively slap my hand over my lips, wanting nothing more than to suck them back in.
Oakley’s expression gives nothing away, and for some reason that only makes me want to elaborate, as if I can somehow fix what I said…even though it’s impossible to undo it.
“He was really upset while talking about our mom and the bullies at school and…” I draw my knees to my chest, attempting to shield myself. “He started saying stuff like how he’ll never get married, or have a girlfriend, or get kissed and I…I don’t know.” My voice cracks as tears blur my vision. “I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted him to know how much I loved him and try to fix it…but he got so angry with me. So fucking angry.” Bringing my hands up, I try to hide my face, my shame, my grief. “Three days later he killed himself.”
Because I crossed a line I never should have and made things weird between us.
And left him with no one to turn to.
My chest heaves as big, ugly tears roll down my cheeks.
I feel like I just ripped the scab off the deepest of scars and poured salt in the wound.
Making a fist, I punch my head, as if the action alone can quell the revulsion burning through my system. “I’m so disgusting. So. Fucking. Disg—”
Oakley’s hand wraps around my wrist.
And then he’s hauling me into his arms, hugging me so tight it steals all the air from my lungs.
“No, you’re not. Far from it.”
“Then you must not have heard what I said.”
“I heard every fucking word.” He locks my jaw in his hand. “You were just trying to ease his pain.” He frames my face in his hands. “That doesn’t make you disgusting. It makes you a good sister. A good sister who would do anything for someone she loves because underneath that tough, stubborn exterior…she has a huge heart.”
His words only make me cry harder.
Despite my fears about spilling my secrets, Oakley didn’t judge me.
Like always, he accepts my demons.
He runs his fingers up and down my naked back. “What happened between you two that day…it’s no
t why Liam killed himself.”
He doesn’t get it. “Yes, it is. He didn’t have anyone to talk to.”
Nowhere to turn.
“It’s not why,” Oakley argues. “Liam knew he had people who loved and cared about him. People he could go to.”
He’s wrong. Besides, Oakley didn’t become friends with Jace and Cole until after Liam passed—therefore, he has no right to make any kind of assessment about my brother because he didn’t fucking know him.
Irritation catches the back of my throat and I find myself glaring. “What the fuck makes you think you know anything about why my brother took his life?”
The look he shoots me is like a visceral punch. “My last memory of my mom was her riding some drug dealer for a bag of heroin before she drained my dad’s bank account and took off.” His expression falls. “I used to spend hours every day sitting by the door, wondering what I did wrong and why I wasn’t good enough to make her stay, yet still hoping like hell she’d come back to me…but she never did.” Sorrow floods his face. “She never will.”
And just like that, my heart stops cold.
“It’s her loss, Oakley. You know that, right?”
The selfish woman who walked out on her little boy missed watching him grow up to become an incredible man.
“Maybe.” The intensity of his gaze sears my soul. “Point is, I’ve been where Liam was, desperately searching for something to make it hurt a little less—and even though I know I can always turn to my dad, along with Jace, Cole, and Dylan…I don’t. Because someone else’s love will never be enough to get rid of your pain when you can’t manage to love yourself.” The tip of his thumb brushes the edge of my lip. “Liam didn’t die because of anything you did, baby girl. He’s gone because he couldn’t see past all the torment he held inside.”
He presses a kiss to my forehead. “But he wouldn’t want the people he loved—especially his baby sister—spending the rest of her life blaming herself for something that wasn’t her fault.”
With that, he gets off the bed.
As much clarity as Oakley’s given me just now, it also fills me with a deep sense of sadness.
Because, he too, is one of the broken people.
Just like Liam…
Just like me.
“So how do you cope?” I ask as I watch him put on his clothes. “If you won’t turn to your dad or your friends, how do you—”
“Drugs.” My heart caves in as he grabs his keys and ambles toward the door. “Addicts are people who are trying to numb the pain, too. Only difference is, they aren’t dead…yet.”
Chapter 28
Bianca
“Can I ask you a really messed up question?” I whisper into the darkness.
Oakley and I are currently lying side by side on the small rug in my dorm because I felt like inviting him to lay on my bed when I have a fiancé would be wrong.
We’ve been talking so long I don’t even know what time it is.
Not that I care.
Time feels like it stands still whenever I’m with him.
He shifts on the carpet so we’re face to face. “Sure.”
I chew my bottom lip nervously. “Promise you won’t get mad?”
“I won’t get mad,” he assures me.
“Your mom ran off with a drug dealer, right?”
I immediately regret bringing it up when I see pain slash across his face.
“Yeah,” he says softly. “Yeah, she did.”
“I guess I’m just wondering why…” My voice trails off because I don’t have the courage to finish that sentence.
“I became one?” Oakley finishes for me.
I nod.
He rolls over so he’s on his back and stares up at the ceiling. “I don’t know.” His throat bobs on a swallow. “I didn’t really think about her when I started working for Loki, but maybe subconsciously I was hoping she’d find me or some shit.” He snorts. “Christ. I’m a fucking idiot.”
“No.” Absentmindedly, I run my fingernails up and down his forearm. “You’re a lot of things, Oakley, but an idiot isn’t one of them.”
He angles his head so he’s looking at me. “My shitty life choices beg to differ, baby girl.”
“Then it’s a good thing it’s not too late for you to make some better life choices, huh?”
He sighs. “Trust me, I’m trying. It just seems like no matter which way I turn I keep hitting walls.”
Before I can stop myself, I reach for his hand. “Then we’ll break them down together.”
A frown pulls at his lips. “I don’t get it.”
“Get what?”
“Why you’d want someone like me in your life. You know what I did, what I’m responsible for. I almost killed you and yet you keep treating me like I’m—”
“Worthy of forgiveness?” I interject. “That’s because you are.”
And even though it’s the truth, I know it’s more than that.
So much more.
Not only did I trust him enough to divulge some of my darkest secrets, Oakley has a way of making me feel…free.
Like I can be myself around him—whatever that is—and he won’t ever judge me.
“Or maybe it’s because I feel something with you that I don’t feel with anyone else. Something good and raw and pure…and every time I have another flashback it just confirms you’re not the heartless asshole everyone seems to think you are.”
And whether anyone likes it or not, I know he belongs in my life.
I feel it in my marrow.
He shakes his head. “I don’t even know what the fuck to say to that.”
“Don’t say anything.” Ignoring the strange hurt in my chest, I squeeze his hand. “Just don’t leave me.”
Because if he does? Something inside me will snap and I’ll never be able to fix it.
His face is a mask of hurt and purpose as he holds his pinky up before swiping it through mine. “I won’t. Not this time.”
My chest caves in because pinky promises were me and Liam’s thing. Yet, I can’t bring myself to feel one ounce of resentment about it.
On the contrary actually. It’s almost comforting.
We lay there staring at each other for what feels like eternity before he breaks the silence.
“We need to talk about your shithead fiancé.”
Oh, boy. Here we go.
“He’s not a shithead. Although what he said to you was fucked-up and wrong, so I get why you would think that.”
Stone wasn’t right for what he did, but I’d be lying if I said I couldn’t understand why he went postal when he saw us together. In his mind, Oakley is responsible for almost killing me because he was intoxicated and that’s something Stone won’t ever forgive.
A flash of rage flickers in Oakley’s eyes. “I don’t give a fuck what he said to me. I don’t like the way he was talking to you.”
“I know it looked, bad, but he was angry and—”
“Goddammit,” he snaps. “Don’t be that girl. You’re smarter than that. The Bianca I know would never take that shit from him or anyone else.”
It would hurt less if he slapped me.
“Well, I’m sorry but you’re stuck with this Bianca now.”
His blue eyes soften. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Yes, it was.” Sitting up, I draw my knees to my chest. “Everyone in my life expects me to be a certain way since the accident, but I thought you were different. I thought…” I shake my head because it no longer matters. “I’m trying to put myself back together, okay? But it’s hard when I don’t have all the pieces, and the few pieces I do have…aren’t so great.”
Except the pieces I have with him.
Goose bumps break free when he runs his fingers down my back. “I don’t expect you to be anyone else but you, baby girl.”
I press the heels of my palms to my eyes, so I don’t do something dumb like cry. “I don’t even know what that means because I don’t know who I am.”
“I get that.” Worry etches his features. “For what it’s worth, I wasn’t trying to upset you. I just wanted to make it clear that if he ever fucking hurts you…” His nostrils flare on an indrawn breath. “Well, let’s just say I’ve gone to jail once, and I’d gladly go back for you.”
There’s so much conviction behind his words he leaves me no choice but to believe him.
However, he has no reason to worry. “Stone’s not like that. Sure, he gets upset every now and then, but he’d never hurt me.”
Not physically anyway.
That’s when I remember some of my flashbacks. “And you’re one to talk. You haven’t always been Mr. Nice Guy to me.”
Granted I deserved his wrath back then, but still. Pot meet kettle.
His brows furrow. “You’re right, I haven’t. But even when I was a dick, I still knew where to draw the line.” Concern fills his face. “I’m not sure he does.”
It takes everything in me not to laugh. “You’re worrying for no reason. Stone’s never put his hands on me. Not once.”
My words do little to squash the anger simmering beneath the surface of his gaze. “I hope for his sake he never fucking does.”
Chapter 29
Oakley
A sharp knock on my front door jolts me out of a dead sleep.
Muttering a curse, I stagger out of bed ready to give whoever’s on the other side of it a mouthful for waking me up on my day off.
“What the fuck do you—”
My sentence falls by the wayside when I open the door and see Dylan and Sawyer standing there.
Ah, hell.
“I was sleeping,” I inform them, hoping they’ll leave because I’m not in the mood to be read the riot act about staying away from Bianca.
Dylan raises one dark blonde eyebrow. “It’s one in the afternoon.”
I shrug. “So?”
Sawyer waves a paper bag in front of my face. “I brought some chicken from Cluck You.”
As if on cue, my mouth waters.
Dammit. They came armed with the good shit.
Begrudgingly, I move to the side and let them in.
