by Blake, Penny
My mother and Blaze’s father were riding home from a charity fundraiser when they veered into the next lane and sideswiped another car.
Blaze’s dad was driving. When he started to lose control, he overcorrected and smashed into a guardrail, then spun out of control and rolled down an embankment.
They both died together on a Tuesday night at 11:43 pm.
The police told us that my stepfather’s blood alcohol level was significantly high, but this detail was never mentioned in the papers. Even in death, our family name wasn’t tarnished. As if that meant anything at all.
Since Blaze and I were both minors and my mother had no ties with her family—poor hicks from Alabama she’d tried to forget about years ago—we were sent to Maine to live with a distant uncle on Blaze’s side who he’d never met before.
The man we were being sent to live with was much richer than our parents, and we were told that we’d be living in a mansion on the windswept coast of Maine.
Our parents’ estate in Connecticut would be sold and the money would be put into a trust that Blaze and I could collect once we were adults. Until then, we would remain under the guardianship of Blaze’s uncle.
Throughout the whole ordeal—the funeral, the meetings with lawyers, and then packing and moving several states away—I was numb. I felt like I was trapped in a dream that made little sense. There so much happening and I was swept up in it, yet I couldn’t quite feel any of it.
And then, as we left the airport in a black town car that was taking us to the unfamiliar place we’d soon call home—with a guardian we’d never met before, who’d now be our sole provider, the enormity of it all hit me. I began to sob, deeply and desperately.
It was true that my mom and my stepfather had been lousy parents. But they were all I’d ever known. Now my entire life had been ripped away in one swoop. Finally, reality pierced the fog that had been surrounding me, and as I sat next to Blaze in the town car, it was as if a knot inside me had come loose.
Huge, gasping sobs tore from my throat. I felt excruciating pain in my chest—the purest pain I’d ever felt—like I was being stabbed directly in the heart. Over and over again, and I couldn’t even die to escape the pain. I just had to sit there, taking it. Hurting like hell.
Blaze’s arms wrapped around me. He pulled me against him and ran his hand over my hair, whispering words of reassurance. “It’s going to be okay, Jess. You’ve got me. I’ve got your back more than you know, okay?”
It was as if all the weirdness between us had lifted and we went back to the easy friendship we’d once shared.
But our lives were entirely different now, and we didn’t know it, but they were about to become even more deeply entwined, and more fucked up than we ever could have imagined.
We arrived at the Everly mansion just after midnight. It was an enormous modern beach house located a few miles away from the other mansions sharing the same exclusive part of the Maine coast. The driver led us into the house, helping us carry our things.
We were met at the door by a short, round woman of about forty with a cheery smile and fluffy yellow hair that reminded me of a chick, which was tied up in a loose bun. She introduced herself as Mirabeth, and told us she was the full-time housekeeper for our new guardian, Mr. Raine Everly, who we would meet tomorrow.
She chattered excitedly as she led us upstairs to our rooms, which reminded me of luxury hotel suites, each with their own private bath. Our old house had been upscale, but this place was on a whole new level.
But something was missing, I quickly noticed. There were no photographs or personal touches anywhere. Everything looked immaculate and untouched, not like a home that was actually lived in.
We met our new guardian the next day. After Mirabeth served us eggs, bacon and biscuits for breakfast, she led us to an elevator, which took us to an office on the mansion’s third floor.
Behind a massive cherry desk sat a man who looked surprisingly young. My parents had been in their fifties, and I’d expected our new guardian to be at least the same age if not older. But this man looked like he was no older than his mid-twenties, though there was an air of elegance about him that made him seem more mature.
It was impossible not to notice that he was strikingly handsome. His dark hair was unkempt and loose curls fell past his ears and framed his face, but somehow it only added to his refinement.
He stared at us as we walked in, but didn’t say anything until we were sitting in the chairs that faced his desk. Then he leaned back in his own chair and gave us an assessing glance.
“I’m going to be honest with you,” he said. “Having two teenagers here is the last thing I ever expected or wanted. But this is a family estate, and you’re family, technically speaking anyway. And I understand you have nowhere else to go. I sympathize, truly.
But other than a home and care for your basic needs, there’s not much else I can offer you. I want to be upfront about this so there aren’t any misunderstandings.” He looked back down at the papers on his desk, and as an afterthought added, “And Blaze, I’m sorry to hear about your father’s passing. Very tragic.”
“How did you know him?” I asked. “I’m not related at all, not by blood. But what is your connection to Blaze’s father? Our lawyer wasn’t clear about it.”
Raine sighed impatiently. “Blaze’s father was adopted by the Everly family as an infant and was groomed to take over our father’s business. Unfortunately for both men, Blaze’s father wasn’t cut out for business school, or any school at all. So he set his eye on small-time politics, figuring he could hide the fact that he never got an advanced degree behind fancy speeches, and left Maine without a backward glance.
“Our parents were unable to have children of their own, which is why he was adopted in the first place. Now, with no heir to take over the family empire, they decided to adopt again. I was ten when I was taken out of foster care and placed with them, and after proving myself as a worthy heir, I was officially adopted. I have an Ivy League business degree and I’m now head of the company, helped along by my late father’s most trusted advisers, of course.” He shrugged. “And there you have it. Our parents are both deceased, and my adopted brother is now deceased. That puts us all in a unique situation, now doesn’t it?”
“It’s true that we have no one,” I said. “Thank you for taking us in, especially me, since I’m only very distant family.”
He looked at me seriously, then nodded once and looked down at his papers. I sat there for a moment feeling awkward.
“We’ll try our best to stay out of your way. Thanks again,” Blaze said. He stood up to leave and I followed him out.
That night, I lay in my new bed feeling bored and restless. I’d already explored the house and chatted with Mirabeth before she left for the day. “Don’t mind Mr. Everly,” she said in her warm, welcoming way. “He’s distant, I know. But there’s a heart under all that ice. He means well.”
After tossing and turning in bed that night, I left my room in search of Blaze. I didn’t care how weird things had been between us since that one Christmas Eve. The move had my head spinning, and Blaze felt like the only sturdy thing around to hold onto.
I found him on the wide balcony next to his room with a glass of amber liquid in his hand. Ice cubes clinked in the glass as he raised it to his lips.
“I didn’t know you drank alcohol,” I said. After everything we’d seen our parents go through, I would have thought the appeal of alcohol would be ruined for him. It certainly was ruined for me.
Blaze shrugged. “I started having a drink or two from time to time after Christmas. It takes the edge off.”
After Christmas. I guess he’d felt as awkward and uncertain around me as I had toward him. Interesting.
“What do you think of Raine?” I asked. “He’s a lot younger than I thought he’d be.”
“Me too. My dad never talked about his family, so I had no idea what to expect.”
I looked out at the da
rk ocean a few miles away and listened to the distant wash of waves on the shore, the only sound for miles. “This year has been awful,” I finally said.
I closed my eyes and tried to listen to the waves. I nearly jumped out of my skin when the crash of glass split the air.
Blaze’s fists where clenched at his sides. His glass lay shattered on the ground, and there was a wet spot on the wall where the glass had struck it.
“I can’t believe they fucking died like this,” he said, “When I was younger, I used to plead with my dad to stop drinking, to go to AA, to go to rehab. I told him he was going to kill himself or someone else, and you know what he said? He looked me in the eye and he said ‘I promise you son, I won’t let anything happen to you. I’d never leave you, I swear.’ So I gave up on him.
“I fucking gave up on whining and pleading with him to stop, and I just accepted it, because there was nothing else I could do to fix him. And then look at what he does? He goes and kills himself and your mother. He’s lucky it wasn’t worse, and it was just those two messes who fucking off'ed themselves. With that, he punched the wall hard. It appeared to be undamaged, but I wasn’t so sure about his hand.
This time I wrapped my arms around him, and I just held him. He didn’t cry the way I had earlier in the car. But the deep slump of his shoulders and the look of desolation in his eyes was somehow worse.
There was nothing I could do or say to make any of this better, so I just held him in the moonlight, and hoped our lives would finally start to get easier.
After a little while, I realized Blaze no longer felt limp and broken in my arms. Every muscle in his body was tense. Confused, I looked up and met his eyes, and there was no denying the hunger there.
I opened my mouth to speak, but before I got a word out, his lips came down hungrily on mine. All the tension in his body seemed to explode like a tightly wound spring, turning into that one desperate kiss. His fingers threaded through my hair, then he reached down and gripped my hip, and then he was pressing me against the wall.
The power and beauty of his body kindled my own desire, and I kissed him back, clinging to him like he was the only thing holding me from falling from a great and terrible height. And in that moment, he was. He was the only thing holding back the loneliness and despair of having everything I’d ever known ripped away in a few tragic minutes.
I reached up and twined my arms around his broad shoulders, relishing the way his hand moved from my hip to my butt. I was only wearing a nightshirt, which rode up to my waist, and the feel of his rough hands against my bare skin was heaven.
He must have felt the same, because a thick groan sounded from the back of his throat. Then he grabbed me possessively, lifting me up and guiding my legs around his waist. His rock hard shaft pressing against the softest part of me felt incredible, and I wanted more. I rocked my hips against him, feeling the hardness under his jeans rub me through my cotton underwear.
In one swoop he lowered me to my feet, pulled down my panties and dropped to his knees in front of me, and then he buried his tongue between my folds.
Normally I would have been mortified to have anyone see me so intimately, taste me like that, but the bliss of his mouth against my flesh drowned out all reason, and all I could do was feel. Feel his tongue teasing the little bud of nerves between my legs. The way he took my right leg and rested it over his shoulder to give him complete access. The way his tongue glided back and forth over my seam, accompanied by his fingers, skillfully parting my folds and entering me.
He devoured me like he was dying of thirst and I was water. My entire world narrowed to the point where his mouth and fingers touched my flesh, where the heat of his breath tickled my most sensitive skin.
Then my pleasure peaked almost violently. My back bowed and I would have fallen if Blaze didn’t wrap his arms around my waist to hold me up. And I let myself be held by him. After all the pain and loss of the last few months, I allowed myself to think of nothing but the strength and warmth of him preventing my fall.
I twined my fingers through his hair and noticed that he was short of breath. I caught my balance then and stood on my own. He remained on one knee, and said “I’m sorry, Jess,” as he tore open his pants and pulled out his erection.
Impossibly long and thick, it was beautiful. In the yellow light streaming out to the balcony from the house window, aided by the moonlight overhead, I watched as he held himself and pumped. His fist moved up and down in a sure, steady rhythm that quickly grew more frenzied.
It was almost violent, the way he worked himself with his hand. But it was beautiful too. Primal and relentless. I couldn’t look away.
His eyes were closed and his teeth were gritted like he was in pain. Then his back arched and his face tilted up to the night sky. He let out a guttural groan as a jet of white liquid shot up between us and fell to the marble tiles at our feet.
Then he was quiet again except for the ragged sound of his breathing and the waves in the distance. Our eyes met then, and still I couldn’t look away. But he did, looking down as he tucked himself inside his pants. “You must think I’m a disgusting creep…and I am.” He zipped his fly and gritted out, “Fuck.”
“Blaze…” But before I could say more, he rushed inside, leaving me alone and confused, but at the same time, feeling more alive than I had in months.
I hadn’t changed since moving to Maine, but it seemed like everyone at my new school saw me differently than my previous classmates had.
Blaze and I had moved from a large, upscale suburb to a quaint coastal town with a much smaller senior class. All the kids here had known each other forever, and while it might seem like this would make us weird outsiders, instead we were a source of interest.
I give Blaze most of the credit for this. He was the tallest guy in school with model good looks and an outlaw quality; he practically oozed James Dean cool.
Gone was the earnest kid posing as a well-adjusted jock. Once our parent died, his need to put on a front did too.
He immediately settled into being a mysterious, brooding loner, and the girls at school loved it. The guys may have resented him, but he was bigger than them, so I guessed they figured it was wiser to try and be his wingman than to mess with him.
I became cool by association.
Or maybe that wasn’t entirely accurate.
The kids at my new school hadn’t known me at ten, when I had chubby cheeks, a bad haircut and braces. They didn’t know me as the ordinary, not-popular-but-not-unpopular girl who was in band and usually hung out with the nerds because they were nicer than the popular crowd.
When I was a sophomore at my old school, I’d gotten my braces out, discovered the wonders of make-up, and bought a good flatiron to take the frizz out of my red hair. My gradual transformation went mostly unnoticed at my old school, except for the time I overheard a few football players laughing and saying, Jess is totally bangable now. I’d fuck her all the way to next Friday, whatever the hell that meant.
But while my improved appearance made for less mortifying yearbook photos, it didn’t do much to improve my social standing.
Then I started at Windham High School in Maine, and suddenly guys wanted to date me. Girls wanted to be friends with me. Everyone actually noticed me.
A few girls gave me bitch-face in the hallway, but they were few and far between. Everyone knew that Blaze and I moved here because we had lost our parents, which gave us added good will. It’s hard to hate orphans.
Funny thing was, all the attention only made me close myself off more.
I didn’t know if girls really wanted to be my friend, or if they were just curious. Just bored with their own lives and looking to be entertained by my family tragedy.
It wasn’t just my parents’ deaths that set me apart. It was how utterly abnormal my entire life had been. How could anyone from a normal family possibly understand me? What could we possibly have in common?
Only Blaze understood where I’d come from—who
I truly was—because he’d come from the same place too. And yet as much as I wanted to connect with him, it was when he was around that I felt loneliest.
After what happened on the balcony our first night there, Blaze and I kept our distance. His emotional walls were firmly back in place, and I had no idea how to get around them, so I went about getting adjusted in the new house and our new school.
Blaze made quick work of screwing his way through the school’s small cheerleading squad. He had quit playing sports after our parents died, and now he stayed out until all hours on school nights.
I’d sometimes watch out my bedroom window, waiting for him to come home. He was always out until at least three in the morning, then he would stumble into the house with his latest date and they’d go to his room. I could tell by the way their voices carried and how the girl would drape her arm over his shoulder that they’d been drinking out on the beach.
Even though I didn’t want to admit it to myself, no matter how distant Blaze was, I was constantly aware of his presence at the house and in school.
Worse, it hurt me every time I saw him with a different girl. I thought I’d get used to it, grow numb to seeing him with someone who wasn’t me. But the truth was, it seemed to hurt worse every time.
What I felt for him was a strange mix of heartache and lust. Because I wanted him now more than ever.
Even though I hated seeing him with other girls, it didn’t stop me from fantasizing about him fucking them. Driving his beautiful erection into them and spewing his hot seed inside them, just like I’d watched him do on the balcony that night.
I wanted to know what it felt like to have him inside me. It was something I imagined all too often. But what I wanted even more was his friendship.
And because I couldn’t have either of those things, my loneliness loomed larger every day. It was especially strong at night, when I’d find myself wishing I could just go to Blaze’s room and fall asleep in his arms. I knew it would never happen—he was rarely home, and even when he was, I could never have mustered up the courage.
