by Kay Maree
However, in my case, it wasn’t so much about what I said but instead, what I didn’t say. I kept things from her; important things. I omitted the truth. I redirected and used every distraction technique I could think of to prevent the dark parts of me, the parts that I needed to remain hidden from tarnishing the woman I was falling for.
But before I tell you what I am, what I’ve done, and who I’ve hurt to become the man I am, we have to go back to the start. Because once upon a time, it was good before it got bad. Life was light and held promise before my dark past began to invade.
What I’m saying is, I have to take you back to the beginning of us so that you’ll understand what I did was for her own good.
CHAPTER ONE
Born For Greatness ~ Papa Roach
RYKER
“Cut the shit, Andre. If you don’t want the overtime then man up and tell me. Enough of the, my Grandma’s goldfish died crap already,” I growl at the man I’d considered my friend until this most recent conversation.
A deep sigh on the other end of the line told me he wasn’t done fucking with me. Most days, Andre bitching and moaning about his latest not-girlfriend results in me telling him he’s being a pussy and it’s high time he man’s up, which is followed by an equally intelligent come back from him until one or both of us get bored and decide to go for a drink instead. But not today. Today I simply don’t have the time or patience for his particular brand of bullshit.
It’s been three weeks since I’ve had two days off in a row and I intend to enjoy them drinking beer in the newly installed hot tub that’s sitting on my recently completed deck, not dealing with Andre’s dumb ass.
“Listen, boss,” he starts but I cut him off at the knees before he can begin another one of his imaginative excuses.
“You owe me, asshole,” I remind him as I push my cart past the cereal. “Consider this me calling in one of my markers. Engine two is covered, but since Kael and Reuben came off a double this morning and Matt and Braydon are working the bus, that leaves Jack without a partner and the station short an engine.”
“Ry...”
“No,” I bark. “You’re doing this and you’re not gonna bitch about it. I’m off and I plan on not seeing any of your ugly mugs until I sign in for duty on Saturday. Be at the station by two or I’m hunting your ass down. And when I do, I’m going to make you pay for making me waste any of my downtime,” I warn him before disconnecting and shoving my cell in my pocket.
If I’d been paying attention instead of mentally cursing Andre, I would have noticed the other shopper and her cart an been able to stop in time. But as it is, I wasn’t which has my cart colliding with hers and veering off into the neatly stacked boxes of Capt’n Crunch.
“Fuck,” I hiss automatically palming the back of my neck as I watch the last of the boxes tumble to the floor.
A soft feminine giggle diverts my attention from the cereal carnage and causes my heart to stammer to a halt.
Fuck. Me!
All the blood in my veins takes a sharp detour and heads directly to my cock as I take in the sight of the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on sitting on her ass in the middle of the aisle in a grocery store of all places.
Her hair white as snow curls softly over her shoulders, teasing her large firm breasts that are straining the confines of her T-shirt that claims, “It’s every man for himself when tacos are involved.”
Large brown eyes, twinkling with mirth and appreciation stare up at me as she wiggles the fingers of her left hand, making me envision her looking at me exactly like that after I’ve made her come so hard her juices cover my face. Shaking my head to clear the inappropriate, yet highly appealing thoughts from my head, I wrap my hand around hers and help her up.
The spark of awareness that ignites my blood and sends tingles up and down my arm is unmistakable. Lust slams into me with the force of a freight train, but there’s something more. Something else lingering in the background that I can’t define that has me tugging her close, refusing to release her.
Those gorgeous orbs that I believed were brown are anything but as they slowly rake their way up and down my body, stopping briefly on our joined hands before settling on my face. Gold flecks interspersed throughout her molten chocolate irises change colour to a deep green as the sun hits them just right. Everything about this woman captivates me, making me want to look longer, dig deeper, find out more about the beauty my head and heart is feeling me not to let go of.
“Ryker,” I say more gruffly than I intend, squeezing her dainty hand in mine, tugging her imperceptibly closer.
“Seraphina. But my friends call me, Sera,” she grins.
“Go out with me.” It comes out more like a command than a question but I can’t bring myself to give a damn. “Dinner. Drinks. Coffee. I don’t care, just say yes.”
Something flashes across her face briefly; nervousness, confusion, concern, maybe all of the above. I get it; I’m a big guy and she’s tiny but the last thing I want is for her to be afraid of me. I’d never hurt her. Ever. All I want is to protect her, keep her safe, at the same time as making her mine.
Mine.
The thought has my heart stuttering to a stop in my chest.
When was the last time I used that word in relation to a woman? Never. I’ve never even contemplated making a woman mine. Owning her. Possessing her. Giving her the world as she gives me the gift of herself.
But this girl...this stunning woman that literally stole the breath from my lungs the moment I laid eyes on her; for her I’d give anything.
Something in the back of my mind warns me this is moving too fast. How can one simple touch or even a look have me feeling as if I should be laying the world at this womans feet? That said, I can’t bring myself to care. It could be that I’m overworked, lack of sleep, or the fact that I haven’t been laid in what feels like forever, but regardless of all that I mentally shake my head knowing they’re all excuses; it’s her. She’s why my behavior is so out of the norm for me. There is just something so innocent about her that has all my protective instincts kicking in, making me want to beat my chest and claim her for myself.
Which is exactly what I’m going to do. Watch out beautiful Seraphina because I’m coming for you.
CHAPTER TWO
The Diary Of Jane ~ Breaking Benjamin
SERAPHINA
I should tell him; I know I should. But truthfully, I desperately want to hold on to the illusion of a man as handsome as Ryker being interested in someone like me just a little while longer. It’s wrong and I’m probably going to hell for keeping it from him, but it won’t be the first time or the last that I have to hide facts about who I am and who my family are in order to feel normal for a change.
Granted, this time’s somewhat different since I’m not only hiding who my dad is, but my age too. But then again, that’s the least of my transgressions of late.
When I was young, my days began and ended with my dad. He was the most important person in my world and I loved him unconditionally. That’s not to say I still don’t because I do; it’s just that things have changed over the years. I’m different now, older, wiser, and my eyes are wide open to my father’s faults.
At six years old, I believed my dad could do no wrong. He was big, strong, and loved me so much the intensity of it could fill a room before he even stepped into it.
By the time I was ten, my dad became my very own mythical hero. Larger than life, gallant, protective, and ready and waiting to slay my dragons at a moments notice.
When I turned thirteen and started showing an interest in makeup and boys, my dad sat me down and explained the birds and the bees - which was mortifying for me and uncomfortable to say the least for him - before threatening to kill any boy who laid a hand on me or looked at me for even a heartbeat too long. As over the top as he was I still found his lecture and him endearing.
Then I turned sixteen...the year everything changed.<
br />
I will never forget the day I walked into the house my dad and I shared and saw him covered in blood. My heart stopped and I froze solid on the precipice of our kitchen, staring in horror as he scrubbed the dark red liquid from his hands. He hadn’t heard me come in, hadn’t heard the front door close or the steady thump of my footsteps on the hardwood floors. Dad was none the wiser that his daughter, the child he had single-handedly raised, loved and cared for was watching him wash the evidence of his brutality down the drain. Nor did I want him to.
It was that precise moment that I realized my father was not the man he allowed me to believe he was. Not only was he capable of the tenderness he showed me every day of my life, but amazing cruelty too. Somehow, I just knew whatever he had done it wasn’t the first time. He was too methodical in the way he cleansed himself, too emotionally detached from the filth that covered him that there was no way dad hadn’t been here and done this before.
Slowly I retreated from the doorway, inching my way back to where I had dropped my backpack and tried desperately to decide what to do. Did I make my presence known? Did I pretend as if I had just arrived? Or did I say and do nothing?
Scared and confused, I did the latter. And I did it well. I hid the fact that my heart was breaking and my world as I knew it was crumbling down around me. I put on a brave face and hugged him close, just as I had every day that came before the day that changed my life forever.
Now, almost six years later, I was no stranger to my dad’s extracurricular activities. My eyes were wide open, watching, cataloguing all the times he would come home late and shower longer than usual after first running the washer. I took note of the hushed phone calls and closed door meetings with my uncles in the dead of night when he thought I was sleeping, hating the fact that dad was becoming more distant and reserved as the days went on. And on top of all that, there were women. So many women it made my head swim and my belly churn in disgust.
Where once dad kept his sex life completely seperate, not allowing me to so much as meet the women in his life, he’d become complacent now, not seeming to care in the slightest that I could hear every one of their moans and whimpers and every one of his groans of satisfaction. Those nights, I put my earbuds in and cranked my music as the sounds coming from his bedroom which was right next to mine ebbed and flowed into the wee hours of the morning.
Growing up the way I did, I was no stranger to sex. The men I called my uncles were notorious womanizers with great appreciation for the female form. They claimed variety was the spice of life, which meant that it wasn’t often I saw them with the same woman more than once. Flirtatious looks, groping, fondling, kissing, and half-dressed women practically falling on any many with a penis and a pulse were par for the course and not something that particularly bothers me, that was until it was my dad who was the one partaking in it.
Until a few months ago, I had respected dad for shielding me from his baser urges. I knew it had to be hard, what with being a single father and having to deny himself the company of women in favor of going home to his daughter. Men had needed after all, and my dad was no doubt one hundred percent man.
A fact I found out the hard way when it was thrust in my face as my dad thrust in and out of the slut bent over our couch where anyone and everyone could walk in and see them. Namely me.
After that delightful eye-opening experience, some people could say that I had daddy issues. I didn’t, but I’m sure that’s what the people who knew me best wrote my recently deteriorating behavior off to. In truth, what I had were trust issues. Big ones. Which, truthfully, would be the other part of the reason that I hadn’t disclosed who I was to Ryker the moment I met him.
Lying isn’t my forte seeing as my conscience is a bitch and won’t allow deception without dire consequences. Sleepless nights, anxiety, nail-biting, weight loss, and the desire to vomit every second of every day tends to keep me honest nine times out of ten.
With my twenty second birthday just around the corner, as in tomorrow, I convinced myself that it wasn’t lying if I merely withheld my age from the handsome older man that set my panties on fire. I just hope this teeny tiny white lie by omission doesn’t make him hate me when he eventually finds out.
While the thirteen years separating us didn’t bother me in the slightest, I know in the back of my mind the age gap is going to be a hurdle Ryker may or may not get over. It comes as a shock to most people when I divulge my age. Usually, people assume I’m a few years older seeing as physically, I haven’t looked my age since I was fifteen.
If you were to ask my dad, my genes on my mother’s side are a curse since they are wholly responsible for my early development. But if you were to ask any of the guys who rake their eyes over my ample curves their opinion, they would tell you my genes are a gift. A good one at that.
According to my dad, I take after my mom. However, the only proof I have to go by is a faded picture taken years ago that I found stuffed in the back of one of his drawers when I was putting his laundry away.
My white-blonde hair is all natural and reaches my waist due to my aversion to hair cuts is just like hers, as is the subtle upward tilt of my brown eyes. Dad is six-foot-five and built like a tank, which means my five-foot-three height and petite body is all her too. It’s hard to imagine such a small frame being able to carry the type of curves I have, but I’ve learned to live with them along with the taunts and lewd comments that seem to go hand in hand with it.
Amity, my best friend and my partner in crime has always warned me that I’m an enigma. A dangerous combination of sweet, sassy, and gorgeous that is probably going to have her doing time for killing the first man I get involved with, but I just don’t see it.
Sure, I’m okay looking. My mouth is a nice shape and I have good hair that frames my heart-shaped face. But gorgeous, I think not. And just in case you were thinking it, I’m not saying that because I’m fishing for compliments. I’m happy with who I am and what I look like but I’m just a girl like any other.
However, deep down, I can’t help wondering what Ryker sees when he looks at me. Is he intrigued? Does he think I’m beautiful? Is he interested in getting to know me for who I am, peeling back the layers of the facade I’ve spent my life perfecting? I suppose I’ll find out the day after tomorrow, won’t I? And when I do, I’ll have to decide how much of me I plan on sharing with him because I refuse to let another man hurt me.
Truthfully, I don’t know why I agreed to go out on a date with him in the first place. I put it down to whatever was working behind sapphire eyes of his that drew me in and refused to let go. The minute his hand touched mine, my pulse picked up, echoing in my ears and no matter how hard I tried to ignore how his touch, his attention, his interest made me feel, it only came back stronger. It scared and exhilarated me because never in my life have I felt such a connection with someone, let alone a man.
Honest to God, I was sure it was all in my head, that it was a figment of my imagination after having crushed on him for so long. Not once in my wildest dreams did I ever believe those penetrating eyes would be zeroed in on me, that my breath would stutter to a halt, or that my cheeks would infuse with heat at Ryker merely saying my name. But as luck would have it, the man I’ve had my sights set on for what feels like forever didn’t only notice me, but instead validated that the feelings I had were real, stronger even, to the point no amount of words could do them justice. Every time Ryker’s eyes clashed with mine, his sharp eyes seemed to catalogue every breath I took. That alone should have unnerved me, but it only seemed to draw me in more.
I’m not stupid; I know Ryker has the means to find out everything about me and my dad, as well as my age but for just those few split seconds, I wanted to be me, a girl not held back by my flaws or my dad’s business dealings. For once, I feel like someone besides my best friend sees exactly who I am, which is as confronting as it is comforting. Even so, no matter how intense the raw emotions running through me are, I plan to keep m
y guard up. And it will remain firmly intact, until Ryker proves to me he’s not going to just use me up and throw me away, breaking my heart in the process.
I will always love my dad, but through his fuck ups he taught me a very important lesson about men letting me down, which is why I will never allow it to happen again.
CHAPTER THREE
Fake It ~ Seether
RYKER
Laying in bed the night before my date with Seraphina, my mind races and my body aches at the memory of her smile. The way her plump, pink lips curved up at the corners when she agreed to meet me for coffee warms a part of me that I’d always considered non-existent, or at the very least, superfluous.
See, I’ve never had much luck with women. Or I should say, women have never had much luck with me.
My mom, the woman who was supposed to protect and cherish me, was little more than an oxygen thief. Having kids was the last thing she needed or wanted seeing as she had enough trouble looking after herself. In that case, you’d think she’d insist the men she whored herself out to wrapped their shit uptight, but instead she just let the chips fall where they may.
It shouldn’t have come as a shock that eventually she’d end up knocked up, especially considering good old mommy dearest was fucking everything with a dick and a pulse. Yet nevertheless, Lindy Bleaker aka mom was reeling the day she discovered she was baking not one, but two bouncing bundles regret.
It took her a while, but Lindy finally narrowed the sperm donor down to two contenders. Unfortunately for my twin brother, Dixon and I the winner just happened to be the biggest loser known to mankind.
Frank Dawson, or abusive asshole numero uno did one thing right in his life and that was dumping my mom’s ass the second he found out she was carrying his offspring. Sadly for my brother and I, though, loser Frank had a momentary lapse in judgement or he grew a conscience or some shit which led to him reconcile with our mom. In turn, Frank made Dixon and my life a living hell until we were old enough to know we were better off on the streets than staying in the rundown shack we called home at the age of twelve.