“I want to hurt,” I honestly admit.
“Oh, you’ll hurt, baby.” He grins. “But in the right way.”
I pop the pills, my heart overflowing as I watch him watching me, the look on his face telling me he’s going to fulfil his promise, and then some.
And as we explore each other’s bodies, fucking until the early hours of the morning, I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that Axel Thorp is a man of his word.
Chapter Twenty
I wince at my reflection in the mirror the next morning. I didn’t check my face before I snuck out of Axel’s bed at four thirty a.m., and when I got home, I crawled under my covers straightaway. I apply more makeup to the scratches and bruising on my cheek and cover the gash on my forehead, stifling a yawn. I’ve only had three hours sleep. Max. But I’m not feeling tired.
I feel invigorated.
Last night was just … wow.
Cam always treated me with kid gloves when we were in bed. Afraid to experiment in case he pushed me out of my comfort zone. I respected him for that, but after last night, I realize what I’ve been missing out on. Axel is adventurous, and he proved it over and over again. I’m sore down below in a way I’ve never been sore before, but all it does is inflate my desire to return for more.
Axel made me feel alive last night.
Made me feel normal.
All negative thoughts were banished, and I could get addicted to the feeling. And him.
Downstairs, I wrap up warmly, writing a quick note for my parents who are both still asleep. Mom in her bedroom. Dad on the couch, again. Then I slip outside the house, tumbling head-first into Skeet’s arms. “Oh my God.” My voice is muffled against his jacket, and he chuckles.
“Morning, gorgeous.” He pushes my hair back off my face, inspecting it. “Good job.” He lightly traces my injured cheek. “I can hardly see it.”
“It’ll probably be more noticeable as it darkens, but I’ve done my best.” I shrug, taking his hand as we walk to his truck. “Nothing much I can do about the swelling in my nose though.”
“Ice it when you get home tonight and tomorrow, and it should be fine by Monday.”
He cranks up the heater once we’re both strapped in, reversing the truck out of the driveway.
“You okay today?” he asks, risking a quick glance at me as he drives down the road.
“Yes. I’m sorry for losing it last night. I shouldn’t have let her get to me like that.”
“You don’t need to apologize. I was just worried about you. We all are.”
“Well, I’m okay now, so you can stop stressing out.” A muscle ticks in his jaw, but he doesn’t probe any further. “So, what happened? Considering I wasn’t arrested during the night, I’m guessing the cops weren’t involved?”
“The cops won’t be involved. It won’t go any further, so you can relax.”
“How did you get both girls to agree to that?”
“Kelsie, the girl who waited on our table, isn’t as much of a pro as Cassie. Her coke habit is well known around school, and Heath acquired photographic evidence. Her parents would send her abroad to live with her aunt if they knew she was using again, so it’s enough to guarantee her silence.”
“Why would Cassie back down because of that?”
“Cassie wants Heath.” He eyeballs me. “It’s as simple as that. That’s why she backed down.”
I harrumph. “She all but told me that’s just for show. She has no intention of laying off me.”
“Heath made it very clear she wasn’t to even look sideways at you. He won’t hold back if she provokes you again. She understands this is her last warning.”
He pulls up in front of the store. “Besides, I think you scared the shit out of her last night. I don’t think she’ll be risking it again.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek, not wanting to admit this but needing to get it off my chest at the same time. I draw a brave breath as I face him, knotting my hands in my lap. “I could’ve choked her to death, Skeet. I had my hands around her neck, and if I hadn’t come to my senses, I…”
“You stopped. That’s all that matters.” He unfurls my clenched hands, taking them in his callused ones. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. Honestly, it’s a wonder no one’s strangled Cassie yet.”
“Please don’t make light of it,” I whisper. “It’s not something to joke about.” Now that I’ve come down from my adrenaline rush and the high of last night, old doubts resurface, mixed with new ones.
Are the haters right? Is there some destructive gene inside me that was inside my brother? Is that why he snapped? Do I have the same violent streak? Or is the stress of the last few months finally finding an exit?
“Hey.” He tips my chin up. “I’m just trying to make you feel better.” He rubs soothing circles on the back of my hand. “I’m a good listener if you ever want to talk about it.”
Tears prick my eyes and I hate how volatile my emotions are right now. “I want to tell you. All of you,” I whisper. “But I just can’t.”
He pulls me over the console onto his lap. We shouldn’t be doing this in public, but it’s still early, and there’s no one around. “It’s okay, Blaire.” He wraps his arms around me, enveloping me in a reassuring hug. “We’re going nowhere. When you’re ready to talk, we’ll be waiting.”
“What the actual fuck?! What the hell happened to your face?” Jacinta asks the second I walk through the door.
I groan. “I didn’t think it was that noticeable.”
She examines my face, tilting my head from side to side. “It’s not. Unless you’re like me.” I quirk a brow, but she offers no further explanation, rummaging in her purse and pulling out a small bag. “I’ve professional foundation and concealer in there, stuff they use on movie sets. It’ll disguise it fully.” She gives me a gentle nudge toward the back area. “Go, put it on. I can’t have you scaring all my customers away.”
I emerge a few minutes later feeling like I’m caked in mud, but it does the job, and I pass Jacinta’s inspection. She insists I take it home with me, so I slip the makeup bag into my purse and get stuck into work.
This is my first Saturday shift, and the store is busy, so I don’t notice the hours ticking by until it’s almost time to close up. The bell chimes while I’m on my hands and knees behind the counter unloading new stock from a box. “I want a word with you,” Jacinta bites out, striding out to greet the customer in a less than pleasant manner, which is so unlike her. While Axel was right—she definitely has a potty mouth—she is never anything but polite and professional with her clientele.
“What’d I do?” a familiar voice says, and I pop my head up over the counter. Axel has his arms folded, and he’s in a serious face-off with Jacinta.
“Why does your girl have bruises on her face, and why is she walking like she’s in pain?”
Shoot, have I been that obvious? I should’ve brought some pain pills with me to work.
“What the fuck are you accusing me of?” The venom in Axel’s tone sends shivers down my spine, and not the nice kind.
“I don’t want to think that of you, but I know what someone looks like after they’ve taken a beating.”
I climb awkwardly to my feet, ignoring my protesting muscles. “Axel didn’t hurt me,” I say, rounding the counter. “It’s not what you’re thinking.” I quickly explain, giving her as much info as she needs to know.
She shoves Axel’s shoulders. “What the hell were you thinking bringing her there!? Are you out of your fucking mind?!”
“Save it. I already got the lecture from Heath and Skeet.”
“Well, good.” She plants her hands on her hips, her glare bouncing between Axel and me. “At least someone has sense. And you!” She prods her finger in the air in my direction. “Do you have a fucking death wish? Because that’s the risk you take in that b
arn. You think any of those assholes give a shit if you get brain damage or pick up a spinal injury? I didn’t realize I hired someone with shit for brains.”
“That’s enough,” Axel growls. “It’s none of your business.”
“The hell it isn’t. Blaire’s my staff, and she turned up to work looking like she walked face-first into a wall. It’s my responsibility when my staff isn’t presentable or fit to work.”
“It won’t happen again,” I rush to reassure her, because I can’t lose this job. “I promise. And please don’t blame Ax. It was all my idea.”
“I’m not buying that for a second.” Her foot taps off the floor as she regards Axel. “Do I need to call your brother?”
He purses his lips, looking like he just swallowed something sour. “Do what you like. I’m eighteen now, and he can’t do jack shit to me.”
“He can throw your punk ass out on the street!” she roars, and I flinch.
“Griff wouldn’t do that, and you’re overreacting.”
“Blaire,” she snaps, not looking at me. “Go, grab your things. You can clock out now.”
I shuffle to the back room, collecting my jacket, purse, and the paycheck Jacinta handed me an hour ago before hurrying back out. Axel and Jacinta have their heads bent together, and they’re talking in hushed tones, so I can’t hear what’s being said.
“I’m ready.” I land beside Axel with a fake cheery smile on my face.
“Let’s go.” He places his hand on my lower back and leads me to the door.
“Ax. Wait.” Jacinta walks toward us. I hover with my hand on the door handle while Axel turns back around. “I’m only saying this because I care. I know you’re a good kid, but it’s too damn easy to fall back into old habits.”
“Like I said, you don’t need to worry.” Axel’s entire body is rigidly still.
Jacinta raises her hand, cupping his cheek. “I’ll always worry. Just like I’ll always care. And I meant it. I’m here if you need to talk. Anytime.”
“Thanks.” His tone is sincere, and I’m glad they seem to have worked through their issues.
“Now go look after your girl. Take a warm bath and pop some pills for the pain,” she says over his shoulder to me. “I’ll see you next Thursday.”
“What was all that about?” I ask when we’re outside.
“She’s worried I’m regressing.”
“You fight a lot?”
“Not anymore. For a while, after mom was gone, I went a bit crazy. That’s why J was upset.” Looping his fingers in the waistband of my jeans, he tugs me toward him, piercing me with a penetrating stare. “Are you okay today?”
I know what he’s asking. “Yeah.” I smile at him, encircling my arms around his neck. “I’ve no regrets if that’s what you mean.”
A layer of stress seems to lift off his shoulders. “Was I too rough with you?”
I shake my head. “No. You were perfect.”
He slips his hands under my jacket and shirt, and his fingers start caressing my bare skin. I sway in his arms, his touch bringing back a host of delicious memories.
“Perfect, huh?” His lips kick up into a smug smile.
“Cocky much?”
He laughs, a deep full-bellied laugh that does weird things to my insides. “I think you know the answer to that.” A red flush creeps up my chest. “You okay to come to my place?” he asks, moving me over to his bike, the smug smile still planted on his mouth. My cheeks inflame as my mind totally goes there, and his smirk expands. He presses his lips to my ear and whispers, “As much as I’d be down for rounds four, five, and six, the guys are coming over. We thought we’d order pizza and watch a few movies.”
I ignore the little pang of disappointment that races through me. “That sounds fun.”
“Fair warning. Heath will rip us a new one. He doesn’t let shit go easy, but it’s best to just let him vent and get it out of his system.”
“He has every right to be pissed at us, and once it clears the air, I don’t care. He can scream and shout all he likes.”
Skeet is already inside Axel’s house when we arrive. “Hey, dude.” He does some elaborate knuckle touch with Axel before swooping me up and swinging me around in his arms. “Hey, gorgeous. How was work?”
“Good. Busy.”
He puts me down gently, like I’m precious cargo. “Shit, sorry. Are you sore?”
And, my mind totally goes there again, my cheeks heating alongside my thoughts. Skeet looks at me funny while Axel pins me with a predatory look that doesn’t help. I clear my throat and my mind. “A little but I’m fine.”
“Griff let you in?” Axel asks Skeet, pushing open the living room door.
Skeet nods. “He was just leaving for work when I arrived.” We pile inside the homey living room, and I plop down on the couch, immediately kicking my shoes off.
“Where’s Gilchrist?” Axel asks, sitting on the chair across from us and leaning down to untie his boots.
“He’s not coming.” Skeet flings his arm around my shoulder, crushing me into his side.
Axel stiffens, and a sinking feeling churns in the pit of my stomach. “He’s still pissed?” Axel inquires.
Skeet sighs, dragging a hand through his hair. “Yeah, but that’s not the full reason. His mom sprung some family dinner on him. They’re going over to the McFarlands for the night, and he says his mom wasn’t letting him duck out of it.”
Axel harrumphs, and Skeet sighs again. “Dude, you know he hates you going to that place, and the fact you took Blaire has infuriated him, but he’ll cool down.” Skeet sits up straighter. “Provided you both agree not to go there again.”
“I’ve no desire to return,” I jump in, trying to rescue the conversation. “It was a one-time thing.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” He winds his hand through my hair, pulling my head toward his. “This face is far too pretty to mess up.” Axel snorts as Skeet melds his mouth to mine, kissing me slowly and deeply. When we surface for air, Axel is perusing a takeout menu. We make our choices, and Axel places our order before pulling up the movies app on the TV.
“Come sit here.” I pat the empty space the other side of me.
“I’m good here.”
“Pretty please?” I pout my lips and send doe eyes at him. Skeet watches in amusement as Axel rises, crossing over to the couch.
“Don’t say it.” He pokes his finger at Skeet. “Not one word.”
Skeet fake coughs, muttering “pussy whipped” under his breath. Axel glares at him, and I grab his face, smushing it up as I lean in and kiss him. The instant my tongue enters Ax’s mouth, he forgets everything, submitting to a heated duel as our tongues battle one another. We’re both flushed when we break apart, and I can’t keep the grin off my face. I lean back, keeping both boys close beside me, resting my head on Skeet’s shoulder, as I settle in to watch the movie.
“You’re sneaky,” Skeet whispers in my ear. “But I love it.”
Chapter Twenty-One
I roll over in bed the next morning, and my body aches all over. I groan, reaching for the pain medication on my bedside table, popping a few pills and washing them down with water.
My hair is still damp after my shower when I mosey downstairs. My parents’ bickering reaches my eardrums as I’m descending the stairs, and a heavy weight presses down on my chest.
“Morning,” I say in a cheery tone as I enter the kitchen, hoping my presence might break up the argument. But no such luck. My parents don’t even acknowledge me as they trade insults.
“I’m only suggesting the local diner,” Mom hisses. “Not a Michelin-starred restaurant!”
“It doesn’t matter, Mir!” Dad snaps back. “We don’t have the money for that either.”
“We need to start rebuilding our lives again, Archie. And I want us to go out for dinner today.”
She finally glances at me, offering me a small smile. “As a family.”
“I can treat us,” I suggest. “I got paid yesterday.”
“That’s just fucking great,” Dad barks, glaring at Mom. “Now I’m forced to rely on my wife and my teenage daughter for handouts. I didn’t sign up for this.” He starts pacing the tiny kitchen. “I didn’t spend countless years studying to end up like this!” The pained look etched across his face slices through me. He looks between Mom and me before hanging his head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do this. I’m going out.” He walks with purpose toward the door without looking at either one of us.
“Please, Archie. Don’t. Drinking isn’t going to solve anything,” Mom calls after him.
“It’ll make me forget,” Dad barks. “And I don’t want to think about the shitshow that is my life now.”
I watch, helpless, as he grabs his jacket and leaves. Mom is hunched over the kitchen table, sobbing. I cradle her from behind, holding her while she cries. My cell pings in my back pocket, but I ignore it. Rubbing Mom’s back, I whisper false assurances that neither one of us believes. When she finally cries herself dry, she looks up at me with haunted eyes. “I think we’re losing him. I don’t know how to reach him. I don’t know what to do!”
Neither do I. And I don’t know how to console Mom either, so I’m grasping at straws when I make a suggestion. “Maybe we could look for jobs for him? Send his resume out and try to line up some interviews?”
“Oh, honey. I know you’re trying to help, but that might only make things worse. He hates that he can’t provide for us, and I’m not sure he has the confidence or the sobriety to attend any interviews right now.”
“Well, what about trying to find him a therapist?”
“I don’t think he’d go.” Her shoulders sag, and her features are thick with sad resignation.
“What does Aunt Jill say?”
“I haven’t really spoken to her about this.” She scrubs her hands over her face. “We’ve asked too much of them already.”
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