by W Winters
My head rests on my knees as my shoulders shake.
Life wasn’t supposed to be so cruel. Not to him.
“Deep breaths,” I tell myself. “One at a time,” I say, brushing at my eyes even though the water is still splashing down.
Standing up makes me feel weak. The water’s colder, but the air is still hot.
Just breathe.
As I open up the shower door to inhale some cool air, I hear something. My heart stops and my body freezes. The water’s still on but my eyes stare at the bathroom door.
The mirrors are fogged even though I left the door open slightly. A second passes and then another.
My body refuses to move even after I will myself to reach for the towel. My knuckles turn white and keep me where I am. I know I heard something. Something fell. Or something was pushed. Something beyond the door. Something. I don’t know what, but I heard something.
I force myself to take one step onto the bath mat, and then another onto the tile floor.
I keep moving. I take the towel in both hands and then wrap it around myself although I can’t take my eyes off the door.
Water drips down my back, but I don’t bother with drying my hair. I make myself open the door and it groans in protest as I do.
The second it’s open wide, I feel foolish.
It’s only a picture I’d put up with hanging tape strips. It’s fallen and the paint on the wall where it was hung, a Tiffany blue, is marred.
I should have used nails or screws to hang it.
Even as I pick up the picture and roll my eyes, my body is still tense; my heart still races. The frame is cracked and broken. When I place it onto the dresser, I catch a glimpse of the piece of paper Daniel gave me. It’s a ripped portion of something—maybe a bill, I’m not sure. But on it is his number. The number I texted so he would have mine and to ask when we could meet. The number that didn’t answer, even though the message was marked as read.
I leave the paper there with the broken frame and head back to the bathroom to finally turn off the water. But I stop just shy of entering.
Peeking at the door to my bedroom, a chill travels down my spine.
I don’t remember leaving it open.
Chapter 10
Daniel
* * *
I would say I don’t have time for this shit, but I do. I really do.
I would make time for it if I didn’t already have it in spades.
I’m cradling my chin while I drum the fingers of my other hand in a rhythmic pattern on the sleek mahogany tabletop. The soft sound doesn’t even reach my ears, mixing with the chatter and hum of small talk and the clinking of silverware in the restaurant.
The Madison Grille has gotten a facelift recently. It’s obvious. From the new wood beams that make the place smell like cedar, to the industrial lighting with exposed bulbs. I deliberately chose a place that wasn’t too expensive or elegant so this wouldn’t seem like a date. But it’s better than a bar. There’s privacy here that I’m eager to take advantage of. I waited to message her until only hours ago. Last night took a lot out of me, but once I decided, there was no turning back.
“Would you like anything while you wait?” The waiter already has his pad out and pen ready to go. There are a lot of things I’d like right now. Addison bent over the table, for one. Simply for inviting me back into her life. She may not know how much she taunted me, but she’s smart enough to know the attraction was there and still she teased me.
“A whiskey sour and two waters,” I tell him and he waits for more, but a tight smile sends him away.
Again my fingers drum as I think about each and every curve of the woman I’m waiting for.
Addison is all grown up.
And that look in her eyes is one I recognize. Desire. My blood feels hotter with every second I sit here thinking about what I wanted to do last night. And what I plan to do tonight.
I can imagine those pouty lips of hers wrapping around my cock and the sounds she’d make as I shoved my dick down her throat.
If nothing else, I can finally get a piece of what I wanted when I first laid eyes on her. Just the thought makes my dick harden and I stifle back a groan as the zipper of my jeans digs into me.
It took everything in me not to take her last night.
When she looked at me like she could see right through me.
When she told me to stop, as if she could command me.
When she spilled her little heart out as if I was the one meant for those words.
I’ll be damn sure to make the time for Addison. Finally having her is worth all the fucking time in the world.
Sheets of rain batter against the large front window of this place and crash noisily on the tin roof.
I hate the rain. I hate what it does to me. The memories it brings back.
Addison is out there in the rain right now. Feeling it beat against her skin. Listening to the familiar sound.
And the unwanted memories that come with it.
I should feel a good number of things with the memory of Tyler besetting me right now as I wait for Addison. Shame, maybe even disgust. Swallowing thickly, I replay the memories, but this time focus on her. How she looked at me and shied away. How she couldn’t talk to me while looking me in the eyes. How she blushed every time she caught me staring. Her reaction to me and only me was everything.
It was never about Tyler and I stayed away back then for him. It was always about Addison.
My thoughts are interrupted by the drinks I ordered being set on the table in front of me.
“Will you be dining tonight?” the waiter asks and I shake my head no and reply, “Just drinks.”
“Let me know if I can get you anything else.” With that he’s gone and I’m left sitting alone at the table in the back. Staring at the entrance and waiting.
The soft lighting is reflected in my watch face as I turn my wrist over, showing the time is nearly ten minutes past the hour. She’s late.
My eyes narrow as I look back toward the entrance, willing her to walk through the doors. There’s a mix of worry and fear that I’m vaguely aware of. Fate’s been a cruel bitch to me and I wouldn’t put it past her to take the one thing I’ve always wanted. The one person I’m so close to getting.
Before I can let the unwanted emotions get the best of me, the door opens and Addison steps inside, huddled under an umbrella that she’s quick to shake out over the mat and close. The hostess greets her as I sit paralyzed, watching Addison.
It’s still surreal to see her here. I don’t know how to react to her.
My fingers long to help her slip out of her jacket, but instead they grip onto the table.
I frown at the sweet smile she gives the hostess for helping her with her things. Addison hasn’t given me one. In fact, it falls as she’s directed toward me.
The happiness so evident only a second ago is gone as she walks over.
It makes my blood heat to a simmer but I stand anyway, pulling out the chair across from me for her to sit.
“Hi,” she offers politely and the scent of her shampoo wafts toward me.
I don’t trust myself to say anything, so I only offer her an inkling of a smile. I’m better than this. I know better too. “Thank you,” she says softly as I retake my seat.
“I didn’t know what you’d like to drink,” I tell her even though I know she’ll order a red wine. On the sweeter side.
“Oh, I’m fine with anything,” she says agreeably and just like that, the bits of irritation slowly ebb and start to fade. She offers me a hesitant smile as she adds, “I’m glad you texted me.”
Her smile broadens and she takes a sip of water before the waiter comes by again. And she orders cabernet. She’s a creature of habit, little Addison.
“You wanted to talk?” I sit back easier in my seat now that she’s here.
“I do, but I don’t know how.”
A genuine smile creeps onto my face. Little things like her innocent nature have
always intrigued me. “Just say whatever you want, Addison.”
“Do you hate me?” she asks me quietly. The seriousness is unexpected and catches me off guard.
“No, I don’t hate you.” I hated that I couldn’t have her. But that was then.
“I feel like you should,” she tells me although she’s staring at her glass. She does that a lot. She looks down when she talks to me. I don’t like it. My chest feels tighter and the easiness of tonight and what I want from it tangle into a knot in my stomach. I reach for my drink, letting it burn on the way down.
The words to ease her are somewhere. I know they exist, but they fail me now because the truth that begs to come out is all I can focus on.
I’m saved by her glass of cabernet that she accepts from the waiter graciously.
“Tyler did mean a lot to me, you know?” she asks me as if my acceptance means everything. As if I couldn’t see it in her eyes back then. Every fucking time I saw them together it was obvious. He was all she had and I think she hated that fact, but loved him for simply being there for her.
“That was never a question,” I tell her with a chill in my voice. One that I can’t control.
“I just feel like,” she pauses and swallows, then takes a sip of wine. With her nervous fidgeting, she’s clearly uncomfortable and it’s pissing me off. “I’m just afraid of what you and your brothers think. Your dad, too.”
“My father died two years ago,” I tell her and ignore the twinge of guilt running through me plus the pain of the memory. The knot seems to tie tighter.
I went home for the first time in years only to watch him being put in the ground next to my mother, just twenty plots down from Tyler’s grave. And I haven’t been back since. It’s funny how guilt spreads like that. How it only gets worse, not better.
“Oh my God,” Addison gasps and reaches her small hand out on the table for mine. “I’m so sorry.” One thing I’ve always admired about Addison is how easy it is to read her. How genuine she is. How honest. Even if the things she was thinking were less than appealing.
“My father liked you, so he told Tyler that you would come back.” I don’t know why I tell her that. The memory doesn’t sit well with me and the conversation isn’t going where I’d like it to. Uncomfortable is an emotion I don’t often experience. I suppose it makes sense that I am now though. Yet again … that’s Addison’s doing. But I allow it. It would be easy to get up and leave, to not have to deal with this conversation. But having Addison tonight is worth it.
Barely catching a glimpse of the starched white shirt of the waiter, I hold up my hand just in time to stop him.
“Yes?” he asks and I order two rounds of black rose shots, which are a mix of vodka and tequila and the restaurant’s drink of choice. Plus another whiskey sour. I greatly underestimated this conversation and the need for alcohol to go along with it.
“Anything else?” the waiter asks and Addison pipes up. With her hands folded in her lap, she orders the bruschetta.
It’s only once the waiter’s left that she leans forward, tucking her hair behind her ear and says, “I didn’t eat much today.”
“Get whatever you’d like,” I tell her easily and keep my gaze from wandering straight down her blouse. It’s only a peek. Only a hint at what’s under the thin cotton, but I can see the lace of her bra and it begs me to look.
“I have to get this off my chest.” Her words distract me and looking at the serious expression in her eyes I’m irritated again, but I keep my lips shut tight. It will be worth it when it’s over with. It better be.
“I just … even that day when I left, I didn’t want you to think that I didn’t appreciate everything.”
She has no fucking idea. How is it even possible that she could be so blind?
She lived under our roof. It was off and on for nearly a year while the two of them dated. Tyler insisted. And the nights she didn’t stay felt off toward the end. Each and every time she left I thought it was my doing.
But she always came back.
Tyler wasn’t one to make demands, but he wanted her there with him. He wanted her protected and cared for. And when he told us why, when he told us what she’d been through, my father agreed.
It wasn’t just that she had a tragic backstory. That she’d lost her parents and had no one.
It was the story of her previous foster father that changed my father’s mind.
You could see it in the way Addison shied away from everything and everyone. And how she didn’t want to go back to a stranger’s house and hope nothing like that ever happened again.
She was safe with us. Even if she felt like she was intruding, every one of us wanted her there.
Even more so after we paid that sick fuck a visit.
It wasn’t in Tyler’s nature to want to hurt someone. Addison had a good way of bringing out a different part of him. She’s good at that, at bringing out facets of your personality that were dormant before.
Carter was the one who decided when and how we’d take care of the asshole who’d touched her the year before. He was forty years old with a fifteen-year-old girl under his care.
Carter decided all five of us would go together while Addison was at class. The drive was only three hours away. Too long to do it at night, because she’d have noticed. But we had plenty of time during the day.
Carter always has a plan, and I was supposed to go around the back. Which is right where the asshole was raking up leaves.
I’d never killed anyone with gardening equipment before. I still wonder what it would have been like had I used the sharp tines of the metal but the damn thing broke in half. The spike of the splintered wooden handle worked well enough.
He got out one scream, if you can even call it that. More of a pathetic cry.
My family may have sheltered her.
I killed for her.
Tyler should have told her back then, and I have a mind to tell her now. But I don’t break promises, not even to the dead.
So I keep that little bit of our history to myself.
The memory gives me the strength to look her in the eyes as I tell her, “You care a lot about what other people think. You’d be happier if you didn’t.”
“I’m not sure I would be,” she answers softly with the corners of her lips turned down.
Again, the alcohol saves the conversation. The shots hit the table one by one.
“I think you need a drink.”
I sure as fuck do. I didn’t have her come here for a heart to heart. This isn’t going how I’d planned. Wine and dine and fuck her is what I wanted. The first two I could take or leave, but the last I’ve needed for so long.
“I could use one … or six,” she jokes and pulls her hair over her shoulder, twirling the dark locks around her finger.
Addison’s entire demeanor changes as she watches the dark purple shot swirl in the glass.
“Thank you,” she says as she smiles up at the waiter.
“Cheers.” I tilt my shot toward her in jest and down it before she can say otherwise. No salutes to the dead, or to anything else for that matter.
When my glass hits the table, Addison’s is just reaching her lips.
Everything about the way she drinks it turns me on. From the way her slender fingers hold the glass, to the way her throat moves as she swallows.
A million images of how she’d look as she sucks my cock are going through my head until she speaks again.
“You make me feel …” she trails off and hesitates to continue.
“Scared?” I offer her. I’m used to making certain people feel that way. Only when I need them to remember what I’m capable of.
“No … unworthy.” I’m struck by her candor.
“If you think that, it’s because you’ve come to that conclusion on your own.”
“You’ve always made me think that. Even back when I was with Tyler.” My spine stiffens hearing her bring him up so casually this time. Like it’s easy to use his nam
e in conversation.
“Your bruschetta,” the waiter says, setting the plate down in the center of the table. I’ve never wanted to kill a waiter for delivering an appetizer before. Not until this moment.
He starts to speak again and I cut him off. “We’re good here, thank you.” My words are rushed and hard and I pray for his sake he takes the fucking hint.
My gaze moves from him to Addison, and her expression makes me regret it.
“You made me think that when I got here.” Addison looks as if she’s debating on eating. I guess the topic has ruined her appetite. It takes me a second to remember what she even said … unworthy.
“You were late.”
“I got here as soon as I could,” she protests weakly. As if she’s truly apologetic and the part that pisses me off the most is that I know she is.
“If you don’t want me to be angry, then don’t make me wait.” I’m wound tighter and tighter by the second. It’s amazing how a girl like Addison can tempt my self-control.
“You didn’t have to wait. You can go,” she retorts, saying each word while staring straight into my eyes. Daring me.
I smile. “I don’t want to leave.”
The anger in her features softens at my response. “I just hit traffic.”
A heavy breath comes and goes as I settle back in my seat, watching for her reaction. This tit for tat is different for me. “It’s fine,” I tell her, hoping to end it. And move back to the plan.
“Why do you look at me like that?” she asks me and I still.
“How is it that I look at you?” I ask her to clarify. It’s usually so easy to manipulate others into seeing me how I need them to. But Addison is observant beyond measure. She always has been. And she’s always been different.
“Like you don’t trust me. Or maybe you don’t know what to expect from me.”
I shrug. “I don’t trust anyone. Don’t take it personal.”
She laughs and her shoulders shake slightly. “Maybe that’s because of the people you hang out with?” she suggests and quirks a brow at me.
“I don’t hang out with anyone.” I answer her simply, with no emotion. Merely stating a truth.
