by Ashley Jade
His eyes go big and he starts wriggling and moaning.
“I suggest you stop that,” I warn. “Or mommy dearest will be planning your funeral tonight.”
His body goes slack, his chest rising and falling with quick uneven breaths.
I scrape the bevel of the needle along the calf of his good leg. “I could feed you lines about how there was a time where I thought I actually loved you.” Narrowing my eyes, I add, “But you’re not worth the air I breathe, Stone. You never were.”
I tap the tip of his nose. “So, here’s the deal, sunshine. You and the rest of your lowlife family are never allowed to go anywhere near me or the people I love again.” Shooting him a sadistic grin, I pinch his nose so he can’t breathe. “And, yes, that includes Oakley.”
When he doesn’t give me a response, I pinch him harder. “Show me you understand the terms of the agreement, asshole.”
Finally, he nods.
“Good boy.” I drag the needle along his thigh. “In exchange for your cooperation, you can stay in the premed program and I won’t end your miserable life.”
His relief is tangible.
Flashing him some teeth, I jab the needle into his skin.
“On second thought…that’s not gonna work for a poisonous cunt like me.” Leaning over, I whisper, “See you in hell.”
The look of fear on his face and the pathetic moans emitting from him fill me with so much pleasure I can’t help but smile.
It’s safe to say the war between our families is officially over.
My hand is on the doorknob when I pause. “Relax, Stone. It’s just saline.” Peering over my shoulder, I issue him one final warning. “But the next time you fuck with me or my family. I swear to God, I will kill you.”
Chapter 55
Oakley
I grip the phone so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t break when it goes straight to voicemail again.
It’s been three days since I’ve seen or spoken to Bianca.
I’ve called her to no avail. I’ve shown up at her dorm, only to stand there talking to her door like a psycho because she won’t open it.
She wishes you a speedy recovery.
My father’s words burn like acid in my throat.
That detached response doesn’t sound like her at all.
Not when it comes to me, anyway.
Kind of like how I knew something wasn’t right when she called me Oak, because she’s the only person in my life who never shortens my name.
She uses all two syllables…like it’s important to her.
Trepidation slams into my chest. Maybe she had another memory?
“Stop fucking ghosting me,” I bark as I get off the elevator. And because I’m nearing the end of my rope I add, “I’m coming by later. Don’t think I won’t break your goddamn door down if you give me the shaft again. Because I motherfucking will.”
I’m growling the last part into the phone when the door to the studio opens.
Dylan’s eyebrows shoot up to the ceiling. “And this angry bear is my cousin Oakley.”
Some dude with a mohawk and glasses—who I can only assume must be Landon—laughs. “Well, he certainly has a way with words.”
I look at Dylan. “Have you spoken to Bianca lately?”
Dylan shakes her head. “Nope. I called a few times to check up on her, but she hasn’t picked up.”
On one hand, it’s good to know it’s not just me she’s ignoring.
But on the other? It means she’s shutting everyone out.
Dylan waves a hand. “I’m sure she just needs some time alone to deal with everything.”
Fuck that noise.
Dylan’s stare falls to my stomach. “How’s the stab wound?”
At that, Landon’s eyes widen.
“It’s fine.” Gripping the back of my neck I utter, “How’s Jace? He out of the slammer yet?”
“Yup. He got out the same night.” Her forehead creases. “Evidently, Stone isn’t pressing charges.”
That’s…interesting.
“Good.”
She nods. “Yeah.”
I decide to lay it on the line. “I appreciate what Jace did, but I’m not gonna suck his dick.”
Landon chokes on his drink.
“Trust me, no one expects you to suck his dick, Oak. He did you a solid because he knew you were protecting Bianca.” She shrugs. “And because deep down he still gives a shit about you.” She turns to Landon. “But enough about our drama. Landon, this is Oakley. Oakley, this is Landon Parker. The amazing musician I was telling you about.”
We give each other a pound.
I hadn’t planned on meeting him so soon, but given he’s only in town for a few days, it was now or never. Ergo, I took the day off.
“What up, man? I’ve heard a lot of good things about you.”
He nods. “Same here. Your poems are sick.”
Goddammit.
I turn to Dylan who’s shuffling her feet, looking anywhere but at me.
“Hand it over.”
Grumbling, she pulls my notebook out of her purse and slaps it in my hand. “Fine. But just so you know, I really love them.”
That does nothing to ease my nerves because I’m positive I’m not cut out for this shit.
Landon rubs his hands together. “Ready to make some music?”
Dylan grins. “And that’s my cue to let you two work your magic.” She must sense my uneasiness on her way out the door because she stops and grabs me by the shoulders. “You’ve got this, Oak. Even if you don’t write a single word, I’m still proud of you for stepping outside your comfort zone.” She smacks a kiss on my cheek. “Love you, butthead.”
“Ditto,” I grumble.
She gestures to Landon. “Take care of my boy.”
Landon raises his glass. “You got it, boss.”
The moment she leaves, Landon assesses me. “Do needles freak you out?”
Yeah, not what I was expecting him to say.
Then again, he is a musician, so I guess it’s not completely out of left field.
My chest coils and my palms begin to sweat. “I don’t fuck with drugs.”
And I know enough about myself to know I need to get the fuck out of here. Fast.
Landon blinks, noticeably confused. “I don’t mess with that stuff either.” He holds up a thick blue pen. “But I’m diabetic and have to take my insulin. Sometimes needles freak people out so I always ask first.”
And just like that, the ball of tension in my chest dissipates.
“Nah. It’s cool. Do what you gotta do.”
Nodding, he lifts up his shirt, pinches some skin on his stomach, and jabs the needle into his flesh.
“I’m in recovery,” I explain, feeling like an idiot for losing my shit before.
If there was any judgment from him, he doesn’t show it. “That’s awesome. How long?”
“One year, six months, and eight days.”
But who’s counting?
His smile is genuine. “Good for you.”
Since we’re exchanging medical info and shit, I disclose my own. “By the way, I have epilepsy. So, if you see me shaking and jerking, that’s not me attempting to twerk.”
Concern lines his face as he sits down at the piano. “Anything in particular you need me to do if you have a seizure?”
I shake my head. “Nah. I mean, it would be cool if you could make sure I don’t crack my head open, but sometimes shit happens. I won’t hold you accountable if it does.”
“Well, I’ll try my best to make sure it doesn’t,” he assures me with a half-hearted laugh.
His eyes scan the room, stopping on the guitar. “Do you have a preference? I can play either, but the piano is what I gravitate toward.”
Safe to say I feel like a fish out of water.
“I don’t really know. To be honest, this emo shit isn’t really my thing.”
Cue the awkwardness.
Making a face, he assesses me. “Dude, you’re looking at it
all wrong. Chicks dig the raw emotion that comes from leaving parts of yourself in a song.” His lips curve. “Dudes, too.”
A couple years ago I would have used that to my advantage to score some pussy, but nowadays there’s only one pussy I give a fuck about.
“That might be true, but I’m not looking to get laid.” I take a seat next to him at the piano. “Not that I don’t like sex. Hell, I fucking love it, but…” I let my sentence fall by the wayside because I’m not used to being so candid with anyone.
Well, except her.
Landon raises an eyebrow. “But what?”
Fuck it. “Well, there’s this girl.”
His eyes lock on something in front of him. “Every great love song always starts with a girl.” He smirks. “Or a guy.” Dark eyebrows dance with humor. “Sometimes both at the same time.”
I’m not exactly sure what the fuck to make of that obscure statement. However, I soon connect the dots when I follow his line of sight to the picture frame on his piano.
A thick girl with long red hair and tons of freckles is in the middle, attempting to pull what looks like a jersey out of a golden lab’s mouth. To the right of her is a tall dude with blond hair who looks irritated as hell with the dog.
And to the left is Landon—who’s watching all three of them with a giant smile on his face.
As if sensing my curiosity, Landon says, “That’s my girlfriend and boyfriend,” He chuckles. “And our crazy dog.”
“Oh.” Yup. It all makes sense now. Although dating two people at the same time has to be complex as fuck. “That sounds…”
“Complicated?” He nods. “Yeah, at one point it was, but now…I don’t know…it feels right. We just fit together.”
Good for him.
“Hey, man. Whatever works.”
He places his fingers over the piano keys. “Ready to write some emo shit?”
Hell motherfucking no.
“I don’t know. I’ve never done it before.”
“Well, it’s simple.” He presses down on the ivory keys, filling the room with a melodic sound. “I just need you to give me the good, the bad…and the ugliest parts of your heart and soul.”
There’s only one person who has that.
I’m leaving the studio with two songs written and a weird sense of accomplishment buzzing through my skin.
I didn’t think I’d be into it, but hearing my words put to music was pretty fucking dope.
It’s something I definitely want to do again.
I’m stepping into the elevator when my phone rings. Hoping Bianca decided to pull her stubborn head out of her ass and talk to me, I pluck my phone from my pocket.
An ugly feeling rises up my throat when I see Crystal’s name flash across the screen.
“Not today, Satan,” I mutter.
I’m getting ready to hit the ignore button but then it occurs to me that there might be something wrong with C.J.
I quickly swipe the green button. “What happened?”
Crystal’s sobbing on the other line, which immediately makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “You need to get to the hospital right now. Your dad…” She’s crying so hard she can barely make out her next words. “He’s been shot.”
Chapter 56
Bianca
Everything hurts.
The excruciating pain is back in my chest again with a vengeance.
I miss him so much it’s far beyond any pain I’ve ever felt.
A big part of me wants him to knock down my door like he threatened to earlier today.
Just like he knocked down my walls.
I glance at the clock on my nightstand. It’s just past eight, which means he should be here any moment.
As strange as it sounds, I’ve looked forward to him pounding on my door the past three nights, urging me to open up and talk to him.
I’m going to despise the day he finally decides to give up and move on.
Even though it’s what he needs.
Curling up in a ball, I press my head to the wooden floor, near the spot where he almost bled out.
Most of my life I’ve wanted to die…until Oakley made me feel alive.
The pain will pass—I try to tell myself, even though no part of me actually believes it.
You’re strong—I reassure myself, even though I don’t feel very strong right now.
I feel like a vital part of me is missing, and I’m going to walk around feeling like half of a person for the rest of my life.
My phone buzzes on the ground next to me, but I ignore it.
I’ve already lied to Jace and Cole and told them I’ve been busy studying.
The phone rings again, and I see Dylan’s name flash across the screen.
She’s called me a few times this week—Sawyer’s called even more—but I don’t feel like telling them anything.
I’d rather just be miserable by myself and deal with my shit on my own.
I hit the ignore button, but it rings yet again.
Dammit. Sawyer’s the clingy friend, not Dylan.
I click the ignore button for the second time.
A moment later an incoming text comes through.
Dylan: I know you’re going through stuff, but Oakley’s dad was shot. We’re at the hospital with him, but I think you should be here.
Instantly, I bolt up like there’s an electric shock going through my body.
I don’t think. Hell, I don’t even breathe.
I throw on some shoes and head out the door.
Chapter 57
Oakley
“Did they catch who did it?” Dylan asks.
“I can’t believe someone shot him,” Sawyer whispers.
I hear them talking, but I can’t see them or process what they’re saying.
The only thing I can think about is the fact that my dad—the man who raised me—is in surgery.
Fighting for his life.
All because some motherfucking asshole shot him while he was walking out to his car.
“Maybe it was a drive-by?” Sawyer says.
Dylan rubs my shoulder. “Maybe. Whoever it is, I’m sure they’ll catch them. Crystal’s talking to the police now. She was on the phone with Wayne when it happened.”
Sawyer touches my arm. “Is there anything I can get you? Food, coffee…anything?”
Yeah. An eight-ball of coke and a bottle of Jack to wash it down with.
Gripping my neck, I close my eyes.
The last thing my dad told me was that he was proud of me.
Our last conversation was right before I left my apartment to meet Landon at the studio.
I told him I was going to try my hand at writing music.
I half expected him to tell me it was a pipe dream and I was wasting my time.
But he didn’t.
Instead he told me he was happy I was trying something new.
Proud that I was staying sober.
And now?
He’s dying on an operating table.
I need her.
After my mom walked out, I swore I’d never let myself need another person again.
Because needing someone only led to disappointments and letdowns.
But right now? I. Fucking. Need. Her.
Not to tell me it will all be okay—because one of the things I love most about Bianca is that she doesn’t sugarcoat shit.
I need her to keep me grounded and ride out this storm with me.
To just be here.
Reaching all the places inside me that only she can.
Because with her I can’t go numb and I can’t turn it off.
I can’t cover it up with jokes or drugs.
With her, I feel everything full throttle.
And without her…
I fall apart.
I don’t even realize Crystal’s come back until I hear Dylan say, “Where’s C.J.? Do you need me to watch her for the night?”
Crystal shakes her head. “No, that’s okay. Cla
rissa Jasmine is staying with one of my girlfriends for the time being.” She blows her nose with a tissue. “God, I can’t believe this is happening. How the hell am I gonna tell my little girl that her daddy—”
“Wayne will pull through,” Dylan assures her. “He’s strong.”
“He was walking out to his car when he was shot, right?”
It’s the first time I’ve spoken since I’ve been here.
“Yeah,” Crystal says with a nod. “Wayne had just left his office and was walking out to the parking garage to get in his car. We were making arrangements for him to pick up Clarissa Jasmine when I heard some man say something followed by two shots.” She blows her nose again. “I was so terrified I dropped the phone twice before I could call 911.”
Frowning, Sawyer hands her another tissue.
I’m about to park my ass in the waiting room to get away from this shit when a strange thought hits me.
“You said you heard the guy say something before the shots?”
Crystal takes a sip of her coffee. “Yeah, but it made no sense. Wayne doesn’t even like comic books.” She shrugs. “I think it was just some homeless deranged person wanting to steal money from him.”
“Comic books?” I question, not understanding. “What the fuck do comic books have to do with anything?”
Rolling her eyes, she fishes her phone out of her purse. “Because right before he shot Wayne the man said—Loki says hi.”
Chapter 58
Oakley
Past…
“Don’t stop.”
Bianca’s throaty command has my balls tingling.
She braces her hands on the mattress I have her bent over as I speed up my thrusts, fucking her so hard she’s going to feel me for days.
I look down and groan. She has these sexy little indents on her lower back that drive me out of my goddamn mind.
Hell, everything about this girl does it for me.
Her gorgeous face, her hot little body, her feisty attitude…that sassy fucking mouth that loves to put me in my place.
