A Lovely Obsession: The Complete Debt of Passion Duet

by Coralee June

  Her voice trailed off, and I had to force myself not to smirk at the naivety of her words. Something definitely happened last night—a shift in my reality happened. One second I was watching from afar, obsessing about each tic in her jaw, and the next I was worried that I was too late, that I wasn't enough, that my enemies had killed her. Last night made me realize that I wasn't just obligated to keep Roe safe. I was terrified to lose her.

  “The people I work for pay a lot of money to make sure things like last night get swept under the rug,” I replied, not bothering to sugarcoat it. “You're not going to school today.”

  She sat up in bed, forcing the soft sheets to pool at her hips. The large swells of her breasts strained against her tight shirt, and I had to practically swallow my tongue to keep from licking her neck. There was still a mountain of things fundamentally wrong with how fucking much I wanted her. But I guess I shouldn't grow a conscience now.

  “Why not?”

  “Because we need to talk,” I said slowly. The words turned to ash on my tongue. I knew this day would come. I needed to explain everything. I needed her to know what I’d done, why I was infatuated with her.

  “Talk?” she asked, her adorable button nose wrinkling in the process. “You’re actually going to tell me everything?”

  “I am,” I replied. Bile rose up my throat.

  “Why?”

  Because I need to scare you off. Because I need you to live a full life without me. Because if we keep doing this thing, my obsession will trap you far worse than your mother ever did. You’ll never leave. I’ll own you, Roe.

  I didn’t say any of these things. “Because it’s time you knew the truth.”

  She stared at me for a long moment, distrust making her eyes squint. She then stretched her arms above her head. I watched as her shirt rose up, gifting me with a sliver of creamy skin as she moaned in satisfaction. Her willowy body welcomed the day despite the destruction that happened last night. “Okay,” she began. “Let’s talk then.”

  “Shower first. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

  Rolling her eyes, she said, “Sure thing, Stalker.”

  She showered and got ready for the day while I made us a pot of coffee. Roe liked her coffee so saturated with cream that it resembled snow. I'd always gagged from afar when watching her make it. It was brutal to know that these little facts were all I’d have of her after she was done.

  When she strolled through the kitchen, an overwhelming sense of awkwardness settled between us. She was wearing my clothes, an oversized shirt and sweatpants that swallowed her thin body up. I had to swallow back lust. I just stared for a moment, stuck in limbo.

  The truth was just on the other side of me prolonging the inevitable. I was stalling, we both knew it. I just wanted to enjoy the morning a bit longer. “Are you going to stare at me all morning, or are you going to pour me a cup of coffee?” she asked with a raised brow.

  “You are more than capable of pouring your own, even with that bulky cast. Have any trouble showering?” I asked.

  “Nope. But if you feel the need to help me, I wouldn't mind your assistance next time,” she teased before pinning her mouth shut. It was almost as if she'd realized that she was flirting with me. The rose color kissing her cheeks was addictive, and I wanted to see it again.

  An idea came to me. If I was going to tell her the truth, I might as well tell her all of it. I wanted to show her the parts of me even Mack didn’t know about.

  Grabbing two to-go cups and filling them with coffee, I then told her to grab one of my jackets. “We're going out,” I declared cryptically.

  “I thought we were going to talk,” Roe argued while cocking her head to the side. I had a sudden urge to kiss her lips.

  “We will. I just…”

  “Want to prolong the inevitable?” she offered.

  “No,” I began while shifting from one leg to the other. Each tick of the clock seemed to pass too quickly. No, this had to be done. “I just need to show you something.”

  Roe didn't fuss or fight anymore, and I watched her slip her slender arms through the sleeves of one of my old flannel jackets hanging by the door and then slip her feet into her Ugg boots.

  It didn't take us long to get in the Jeep. She didn't ask many questions. I suppose I had conditioned her not to expect any answers. Just another mistake. Just another way I was breaking her. I steered my Jeep off the road and bit my tongue, wondering how someone like me could even have a normal conversation with Roe. The two of us didn't get normal introductions, we got fear and declarations and ultimatums. I threatened her into compliance, and now I wanted to learn more. But how did I transition from observing her life to living it with her?

  No. I didn’t get to live life with her. I got to scare her away and save us both. I wasn’t capable of continuing this thing between us. I just wanted this morning. I wanted one moment.

  “What kind of music do you like?” I asked while fumbling with the radio.

  She clutched her chest before answering. “You mean you don't already know?”

  Her mocking made me want to clench my teeth and stop trying. I synced my phone to the radio and turned on one of her favorite artists, Halsey. “You listened to this song forty-seven times one day after breaking up with some asshole with a snaggle tooth,” I said with a frown before clutching the wheel.

  She stared incredulously at me for a moment before clasping her hands together in her lap. “What's my favorite meal?” she asked quietly.

  “Sushi, specifically the Philadelphia roll. Mack hates the stuff, so you usually go by yourself,” I answered easily.

  She turned her attention outside. “What's my favorite season?” she asked.

  “Summer. You used to spend every day at the community pool. I almost had one put in at Mack's house so he could watch you better.”

  Roe nodded. If I was creeping her out with my extensive knowledge of her, she wasn't admitting it. If we wanted to get ahead of this, we needed to openly rip apart our dynamic. “What's my least favorite day of the year?” she asked.

  “Your birthday.”

  The silence stretched between us. “You're wrong, you know,” she finally whispered, just as the song ended and another one began.

  “Halsey is good, but my favorite band is Nirvana. Mom used to listen to them all the time. I like sushi, but it's not my favorite. My favorite meal is the deep dish meat lover’s pizza from this little pizzeria in New York. Mom and I used to go there all the time.”

  I stored each nugget of information in my brain and clutched the steering wheel like it was a lifeline. “You can look through a window and watch me eat pizza, but you'll never know how it tastes,” she said. Her metaphor lacked depth, but the point still came across.

  “Point taken. So tell me about yourself,” I offered lamely. Roe had me feeling all out of sorts, and I wasn't sure what to do about it.

  “You can't just demand facts about me and expect to know who I am,” Roe replied with an exasperated sigh. “You learn about someone through experience, and you can't just demand information without sharing some of your own.”

  I continued to drive. I'd been on this path so many times that my tires had killed the grass. Some leaves had fallen since I'd been here last, covering the road with their dead decay. But I could explore these trails with my eyes closed and still end up where I needed to go.

  “You could start by telling me where we're going,” she prodded while lifting her chin at the window.

  “We're going to my safe house,” I replied, though safe house didn't feel like the right term. Killer’s headquarters was probably more accurate, but I wasn't about to terrify her with that.

  “So the creepy, secluded cabin in the woods where I woke up locked in the basement isn't your safehouse?” she asked, sarcasm dripping like syrup from her plump lips.

  “No. That's just where I hide some of the bodies,” I replied jokingly.

  Her doe eyes popped open in shock, and I realized
we weren't at the point where I could joke about my profession yet. “Kidding,” I quickly added.

  “No, you aren't,” she mumbled dejectedly under her breath before gnawing on that poor lip of hers. I didn't like the idea of her splitting it open with her teeth.

  “You're right. I'm not.” There was no use lying about it. She already knew too much.

  We continued our drive. It only took about fifteen more minutes before we were pulling up to the secluded hut. On the outside, my headquarters looked like an abandoned garbage pile. I strategically built rotted wood around the steel exterior to hide the fortress inside. Large trees surrounded it, and I kept trip wires hidden along the property, alerting me if anyone went snooping.

  “And just when I think you can't get any creepier, Hunter. You go and bring me to a place like this,” Roe mumbled while shaking her head. I couldn't even blame her. It did look like I'd brought her here to die.

  “Get out of the Jeep, drama queen. If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't have bothered bringing you here.”

  We walked up to the hanging door, and I quickly flipped the hidden keypad and typed in the entry code. Three beeps greeted me, and the door slid open, revealing the steel cage under all the rotted wood. At my back, Roe gasped, and I had to hide the pleased, prideful smile I wanted to show. I'd worked hard on this place, and her reaction to it for some reason was very important to me.

  “Whoa,” she murmured while following me inside. It wasn't a large cabin. It had plumbing and a kitchenette for when my research forced me to stay long nights. It was just four walls, but each inch of space was strategically planned with technology, gear, and weapons.

  Naturally, Roe gravitated toward my wall of guns, knives, bombs, and other weapons. She looked up at the rows of black metal poised on the wall, with her mouth hanging open. “Do you know how to shoot all of these?” she asked.

  “Yep,” I replied, popping the p for emphasis. I wasn't one to brag about my abilities. I had an unusually steady hand, great vision, and an aim that couldn't be matched. I was a natural when it came to lodging bullets in skulls. I was probably the best damn shot in the world. I never missed.

  But of all the things in my little safe haven, the weapons were the least impressive. Although each gun here had a unique purpose, they all were used for the same thing. Killing.

  I liked my computer deck. I wasn't nearly as skilled of a hacker as some of the other guys on Gavriel's payroll, but I had the best equipment money could buy. It was untraceable and got the job done. The programs I ran could help me find anyone, hear anything, trace anywhere and hack into most accounts. This self-automated machine was the next level in criminal activity. You didn't need a man living in his grandmother's basement to access the FBI anymore. Now you just needed an Internet connection and enough money to buy code.

  “I wanted to show you something,” I said while motioning towards my wall of monitors. Roe tore her eyes from the large shotgun I got three years ago as a gift for my fifteenth kill, and moved to sit by me. This was it. This was where I’d tell her everything.

  I sat down in my seat and booted up the computers while staring at Roe out of the corner of my eye. She seemed uncertain and distant. I reached out and wrapped my arms around her waist before tugging her closer to me. She stumbled a bit then settled on my lap. Her entire body seemed stiff, but I ignored it. Wrapping around her, I logged in and pulled up the file called Roe.

  Thumbnails of photos covered the screen. “Is that?” she asked while leaning closer.

  “You?” I offered. “Yes, it is.”

  “You really have been watching me my whole life,” she whispered as I clicked on a photo of her at the hospital the day she was born. The day I met Mack. The day her father died.

  “I don’t have a lot of photos of you when you were younger. I didn’t really start taking photos until you moved in with Mack, but this is the first.”

  “You were there the day I was born?” she asked while twisting on my lap to look at me.

  “Yes,” I replied solemnly.

  “Rosemary said you stalked her, too. Is that true?”

  I was surprised by this line of questioning. I’d just showed her a server with a lifetime of photos I’d taken saved on it, and yet she wanted to know if this thing was exclusive? “No. She was lying. She’s been watching us and played you. You’re my only debt,” I whispered.

  She got off my lap and ran her hand through her hair, looking around the cabin with wide eyes and a newfound sense of understanding that she didn't have before. I watched her take it all in, wondering if the beautiful, strong girl I'd been taking for granted would finally crack. I was hoping she’d do what she does best: run the fuck away.

  “Is this you?” she asked while pausing at a space of wall with a shelf of personal effects on it. Of course she would single out the one photo I had of myself.

  I stood up and made my way over to her. Once at her back, I breathed in her cinnamon scent as she reached up to pick up the dusty frame off the shelf.

  She blew on it and wiped at the glass, cocking her head to the side as she stared at it. “That's my mother,” I said in a soft voice while staring at the photograph. It was one of the only photos we had together. It was one of those things that hurt to look at, but you felt obligated to keep it, all the same.

  “She looks...” Roe's voice trailed off like she was trying to place her face somewhere.

  “She looks sick. Fragile. Like she's dying,” I finished for her. In the photo, my mother's blond hair was frail and scraggly. Her bones were poking through her scarred, blemished skin. Her cheeks were sunken in, and her teeth had that grayish glow only a drug addict would have.

  Oh but there was love in her eyes. Despite her weakness, I knew she did care for me—when she was sober enough to remember that I existed. There was love there, definitely. But she was an addict, and addicts always loved themselves and their addiction more than the people depending on them. I wanted her to keep me safe, and in the end, she didn't.

  “I was going to say familiar...” Roe's voice trailed off again. She was so close to the truth, so close to the tragic secret that bonded us together the day she was born. “It’s like I’ve seen a photo of her before… The photo of you with my mother. Were our mothers friends?” Roe asked before turning around to face me. She bit her lip as if nervous I'd punish her for figuring out another puzzle piece to our life.

  “Yes, they were friends,” I whispered.

  Roe's eyes brightened at my honesty. “And where is she now?”

  “With your mother. Probably rotting in hell,” I bit back before plucking the picture frame from her hands and putting it back on the shelf. Roe's eyebrows shot up in disbelief.

  Roe took a steadying breath. Inhale. Exhale. I could see the run on her face. I'd watched her get it many times before. She was quick to leave and hard-pressed to stay. If she was mildly uncomfortable, she got out of there as quickly as possible.

  And yet, I kept tossing her all these impossible scenarios. I kept secrets. I told her lies, fed her fear on a silver spoon. So why was she still here?

  Lifting up on her tiptoes, Roe leaned in to kiss me. Her lips were incredibly soft. Her coffee breath didn't bother me in the slightest. Her chilled hand cupped my neck as she closed her eyes and drank me in with a tantric kiss. “Tell me,” she pleaded. I kept the words lodged in my chest.

  Slowly responding to her touch with my sweeping tongue, we kissed for a moment as our past unfolded at our feet. She pulled away, and I didn't like how in charge of our kiss she seemed or the smug look on her face or the way her eyes seemed to burn with a newfound understanding.

  “Tell me.”

  “Our mothers were friends. Both of them were in love with the same man,” I explained. Her eyes went wide, and she shivered in disgust.

  “Are you my brother?” she choked out.

  “No, no,” I quickly replied. “Come here. Let me explain.” I grabbed her hand and brought her over to the small l
eather couch. Once we were both settled, I continued.

  “Our mothers were in love with the same man. He chose your mom,” I replied, the oversimplification of my mother’s heartbreak making a sharp pain rock through me. “They ended up taking very different paths. Your mother found love. My mother found drugs and Forest.”

  Roe frowned but nodded for me to continue. “Forest wasn’t a good guy. Your mom tried to keep the friendship alive for my sake, but it got harder and harder. My mom just got destructive…”

  Misty tears filled her eyes, and she reached out to grasp my hand. I reveled in the contact for a moment, knowing that the moment she learned the truth, she’d let me go. “Did he hurt you, Hunter?” Roe asked in a timid voice.

  I coughed back the anger burning in my chest. I was a man now. Forest was dead. No one would ever hurt me, ever again. But whenever I talked about this, I couldn’t help but feel like the hopeless child that was forced to endure his hits. I didn’t even answer her question, and Roe sensed the truth. She closed her eyes and scooted closer to me, wrapping her arm around my waist.

  “Your mom tried to be a good friend to mine. But my mom didn’t make it easy. There was addiction and toxic jealousy between them. Your mom loved me, though. She wasn’t always so scared of the world. She was brave, once. Brave enough to call my mom out on her shit. Brave enough to show up in the middle of the night to bring me food. And then she got pregnant with you.”

  Roe tilted her head up to look at me. “Mom asked for some money. She said she was going to finally get away from Forest. Move out of the city. Get clean. Start over. It sure sounded good. Mrs. Palmer gave her two thousand dollars in cash. Of course, my mom blew it. Mom was afraid of change; I guess that’s why things always stayed the same.”

  “What happened?” Roe asked, her voice raw with emotion.

  “Your father, Lake, got fed up. You were due any day, and he was sick of my mom pulling this shit. It was a Thursday. The air was hot. I was hungry. I was always hungry.”