by A. J. Logan
She’s having a boy. My brother. “I already pity the kid. He has you as a father.”
“Elliot.” My pitiful excuse for a father calls out as I stand from the chair, staggering across the office toward the door.
“Leave him be, Richard. You’ve done more than enough.”
Isn’t that the fucking truth. My back to them, I stand rigid at the door, my hand on the knob. I want to leave but there’re so many questions going through my mind. Turning, I ask the only one that matters to me. “Does Mom know?”
“Yes.” My grandpa answers as my dad remains silent like the coward that he is. “From what I’m told, Heidi told your mother about the affair and pregnancy a few days before the accident.”
Accident. It wasn’t an accident. None of this shit was accidental, even if Richard Bass wants to justify his inexcusable actions that way. “There’s no need for you to bother returning home. Go to your new family because the old one is much better off without you.”
Throwing the door open, I stomp out of the room. Everything becomes a blur as I step through the doorway, heading down the hallway straight to the elevator. My vision tunnels as I silently make my way to the exit, stepping out with only my car in my sights.
Affair. Pregnancy. Brother. He hadn’t been traveling. He was always down the street, starting over, or more like starting a new family to torment since there was nothing remaining to shatter in his old life. My mom. It doesn’t make her inconceivable decision any easier to accept, but it shines a light on why she’d made such an unthinkable choice. The one I told her I wished she’d succeeded at.
My stomach lurches as I bend over, the contents of my stomach spewing out onto the parking lot’s asphalt. I’m unable to pull an adequate amount of air into my lungs for several minutes. How had I been so blind? Not only to my father’s secret life, but to my mother’s immensely profound agony.
Pulling my car door open, I drop into the driver’s seat, my head falling back as I struggle to catch my breath. I just want the pain to stop. Victoria. She’s the only person who makes things better, provides me a few moments to forget life isn’t one big clusterfuck. At least she did until I screwed that up too. How can I ask her to forgive me when I can’t forgive myself? I’m truly my father’s son, going out of my way to make a dire situation even worse.
8
Victoria
My shoulders burn as my arms slice through the water. There have been very few times I’ve enjoyed the pool without an annoying presence in the adjoining weight room lately, so I tend to overdo my extra laps when the opportunity presents itself. My luck runs out when I spot Elliot walk in. Great. Swimming the remainder of my final lap underwater, I surface at the edge of the pool, grip the side as I hop out, and snatch my towel off the bench to wrap around my body. Elliot remains a few feet away, silently standing there as I move to leave the room. For the first time since he’s arrived, I look directly at his face. His red-rimmed eyes watch me as he remains motionless. Has he been crying?
“What’s wrong?” I step closer to him, pulling the towel tighter as I tuck it under my arms. He remains silent, a look of pure agony on his face. “Elliot, what is it?”
“Are you on birth control?”
“Um. Yes.” Where the hell did that question come from? “But it’s a little late to verify that now if you’re all that concerned.”
“She’s pregnant. She’s having his son.”
“Who’s pregnant?” I ask hesitantly as a tear slips down his cheek. There’s only been one other time that I can recall seeing Elliot cry—the worst night of his life. I’d been with Asher when he’d gotten the call about Olivia. The excruciating expression on Elliot’s face when we arrived at the hospital is one I will never forget, and neither is the one on his face now.
“Heidi. My dad … my dad got her pregnant.” His arms hang limply at his sides, another tear falling down his cheek.
“What?” My hands clutch the towel to my chest. There’re a million questions going through my mind, but it’s clear that Elliot’s head is an even bigger mess.
“My mom knows.” His hands cover his face as a painful sound escapes his mouth.
Swiftly moving to him, I wrap my arms around him as he embraces me, pulling me tightly against his chest, clinging to me. “It’s going to be all right.” There’s no way he believes the words because I don’t believe them myself, but I don’t know what else to say, how to ease the torment that keeps coming his way.
“I told her I wished she was dead,” he whispers, not releasing me from his hold, instead holding me tighter.
“You were upset. It was the first time you saw her since that night. She knows you didn’t mean it.”
“But I did.”
“Elliot.” I tense at his words and shift back, attempting to look at him but he avoids my gaze. He might be a harsh asshole at times, but I know that sentiment was a result of the hurt and trauma he’s got pent up inside. Those feelings are heightened every night by the nightmares as he relives the horror over and over again. “I don’t believe that.”
He nuzzles his face against my neck, taking in a deep breath before releasing me and stepping back, his arms dropping to his sides. “That’s only because you don’t know how truly hopeless I am.”
“Elliot, please. Don’t leave like this.”
“I’m good. Really. Don’t worry about me. I only needed a second to pretend everything was okay between us.” He turns and leaves. Just like that. After the news he’d dropped, the painful revelation he’d shared with me, he’d walked away again. He can say he’s good all day long, but there’s no way he is after discovering that information. How could Richard do that to Elliot and Olivia? Maybe Olivia was only partially correct about Richard. He wanted her out of the way, but money might not have been the real reason.
If I tell Elliot what I know, it might make things worse. But I can’t do nothing. The look of agony on his face, the tears he’d shed, all of it tells me he isn’t good. Even if I regret it later, I have to make sure he’s okay. How can anyone process all that information when their head is already a mess to begin with? The only thing that’s hopeless when it comes to Elliot Bass is staying away, forgetting him, and moving on.
9
Elliot
Those few moments with her weren’t anywhere close to enough, but it was all I could do to keep from falling to my knees in front of her, making a fool of myself, again. It’s bad enough I was crying like a pansy ass, and the reason makes it even worse as rage rises in my core.
The best, most welcomed sight when I arrived at this godforsaken house was his empty parking spot. If he decides to return tonight, I’ll get the hell out of here, but I doubt he’ll show his face after the wretched display in my grandpa’s office. I’ve accused him of hiding Mom away like a dirty little secret when he had a filthy, fucking ginormous secret hidden away for years. Years. All these years when he was “traveling” he was actually with her. Now, he’ll be with them. His fuckpiece and the unlucky child they created. Out of everyone in this situation, I pity the kid most. With Richard as a father, he’ll learn quick about the harsh reality of the atrocious world he was born into.
My phone chimes with a message, yanking me out of my thoughts. Thankfully.
Asher: Heading over soon?
Me: Change of plans. Dickhead left. Staying home tonight.
Because I can’t be there with her, but not with her. Fuck.
Throwing the door open, I mindlessly make my way through the house. I walk into my bedroom and head straight to the bathroom. Flipping the light on, I stand in front of the mirror and look at what a mess I am … and not only on the outside. My bloodshot eyes could be a result of my lack of sleep, or it could be from me bawling like a weak wuss.
Snatching my toothbrush, I put a heaping amount of toothpaste on it to scrub the foul taste out of my mouth. Yet another reminder of my weakness today, tossing my cookies in the parking lot of Lawrence Bass Industries of all places. Only, I d
on’t give a rat’s ass if anyone saw my pitiful scene since the cause of it, and how I let him twist me from the inside out, is nothing if not sickening. Yeah, I’d said the words to my mother, but I can’t help but blame him for everything. From the moment I found her, until now.
Stepping into the shower, I strip my clothes off, dropping them on the bathroom’s stone floor before reaching to turn the faucet on. Cold water pelts my skin as I lean forward, palms pressed against the solid marble wall. As much as I want to push everything away, I have to figure out how to get past it without it all crashing down on me. The realization that my dad effectively abandoned and replaced his family and my mom took the emotional brunt of it while I spewed unfounded accusations, making her more miserable, weighs heavy on my conscience. Even if we’re better off without the bastard, his betrayal still hurts like hell.
I lose track of time, so lost in my head that I think I hear Victoria say my name. Opening my eyes, I turn to look over my shoulder. There’s no way she’s really here. For a moment, I wonder if I’m asleep and she’s a dream until she steps into the shower fully clothed, her warm palms ramming against my chest as she pushes me out from under the icy stream.
“What the hell are you doing? You’re going to freeze to death, you stupid ass.”
A chuckle leaves my lips as my arms snake around her. She’s really here and she hasn’t changed one bit, calling me on my shit like usual. She’s mine. Always and only, mine.
“Seriously, you’re so cold.” She shifts back, turning the faucet handle, and watches the flow until steam rises from the water before looking back to me.
Brushing my lips against hers, my body aches to drown in her warmth. “Warm me up then.”
Her hands press against my chest as her magnificently gorgeous yet furious eyes study me. “You said you were good. This …” She motions up and down my body and around the shower before continuing. “This is not good.”
“I lied.”
“No shit.” She grips my biceps, pulling me under the heated stream.
The water sends a tingling sensation spreading across my skin. It’s soon replaced by a soothing warmth, but not the one I desire. I want her against me.
Reaching forward, I gently grasp her wrist as she goes to step out of the shower. Slowly, I pull her to me, the wet clothes getting further saturated as she stands unmoving under the stream, her body molded perfectly with mine. Right where it should be. “Stay with me.”
My lips brush across hers as my hand grips the wet cotton material covering her ass before moving up, slipping under her shirt, stroking the smooth skin of her lower back.
Reaching down, she grips the hem of her shirt, and my heart leaps as she pulls it over her head, dropping it on the floor. “One condition.”
“Anything.” Any fucking thing she wants, she can have.
“Next time, don’t say you’re good if you’re not. Talk to me … or talk to Asher.”
“Deal.” My mouth catches hers before the word completely leaves my lips. I’d make a deal with the devil to feel her, touch her, be inside her again.
Hooking my fingers on the waistband of her yoga pants, I peel them down, along with her underwear. Once off, the sopping material drops to the floor and my hand eagerly moves between her thighs, stroking her sex while my other hand reaches around, unclasping her bra. Flicking my tongue over her nipple, my fingers slip inside her. She arches against me, her fingers entwine in my hair, pulling my mouth to hers.
My intention was to take it slow, spend as much time as possible savoring every inch of her body. The plan began on shaky ground but is utterly demolished when she says, “I want you inside me. Now.”
Walking her backward, my hand grips her thigh, hooking it over my hip when I press her back against the stone wall. Her fingers cling to my shoulders, holding on tight as I thrust forward, burying my dick inside her. Fuck, how does she feel so good? Like heaven. Heaven in this hellhole of my mind. But more than anything, she feels like home. My home. And she’s the only feeling I want to dwell in. Not just the physical part, all she has to offer. The good, the bad, and everything in between.
Slowing a little, I kiss her, my tongue tasting her as I attempt to prolong the incredibly intense feeling for as long as possible. Every time I’m inside her, I fear it’ll be the last. And that isn’t a notion I can accept. She’s mine, only mine.
Moving my hand between us, my thumb rubs her clit as my mouth grazes her ear. “Come with me.”
My teeth clench as she moans, my thumb working her as she makes the little whimpering sounds that signal she’s reaching her peak of pleasure. That’s all I need to reach mine, releasing inside her. Holding still, my chest against hers, I stroke my hand up her thigh, gently kissing her before slowly pulling out.
She lets out a satisfied sigh and moves to grab a bottle of body wash. Squirting a heaping amount in her hand, she returns to stand in front of me. Smearing the soap over my chest, she gives me a devilish smile as her hand moves down, stroking the slippery liquid on my dick. Hooking my fingers around the back of her neck, I pull her lips to mine, passionately kissing her smart-ass mouth, utterly savoring her. She smooths her palms up my chest, over my shoulders, and clings to me.
Still here. Still with me. But for how long?
10
Victoria
There’s so much wrong with me being here, but I don’t want to be anywhere else. Curled up on my side, my face resting against a soft pillow, Elliot’s arm draped across my side, his nude body perfectly molded against mine. We fit, make perfect sense; our bodies are impeccably in sync. But the physical part has never been the problem. It’s once we step outside our safe, secret haven that the BS rips everything to shreds, and I have a sinking feeling that moment will be here sooner rather than later because it’s time to face reality again. Guilt weighs heavily on me; I hate that I’m holding in yet another secret from him. But how am I supposed to tell him that his father wanted his mother dead? How can I justify betraying Olivia’s trust? How could I live with myself if I put Elliot in danger? I couldn’t. I won’t. Reality is slipping in. I need to go.
I attempt to slide out from under his arm, failing as his arm wraps securely around me, pulling me back against his solid chest. “Don’t leave.”
“We’re gonna be late for school,” I sigh, relaxing against him.
“Let’s skip and stay here all day.”
School is the last place I want to be, especially since it means leaving the cozy bed we’re currently occupying. “Probably not a good idea.”
He presses his hard cock against my backside, his lips brushing over my shoulder. “Feels like a fantastic idea.”
“Yes. It does feel fantastic, but it has to wait.”
“Damn that’s harsh,” he chuckles, letting out a defeated breath. “Just a few more minutes because I’m not ready to let you go.”
“Me either,” I whisper into the silent bedroom. It might be outwardly serene, but my mind races with questions and concerns, none of which should be spoken at the moment. Sliding off the bed, I laugh as he lets out an exaggerated groan, stretches, then sits on the edge of the mattress. As I move to walk away, his fingers encircle my wrist, pulling me to stand between his legs.
He snakes his arms around my waist, hugging me as his cheek rests against my stomach. “Thank you. That was the best sleep I’ve had in days.”
My hands thread through his hair, holding him against me. My heart aches at the flashes of memories from his disturbing sleep. “It didn’t seem so great. I had to wake you up twice.”
“Like I said, best sleep I’ve had in days.” His voice is low as he keeps his face against my stomach.
If that was his best sleep, I’d hate to think of what he’d experienced the other nights. “Maybe you should talk to someone.”
“I’m talking to you.”
“A professional. Someone who can actually help you.”
Arms dropping from around me, his fists press into the bed as
he pushes to stand, his eyes never leaving mine. He hooks his finger under my chin, brushing along my jawline. “I just need you.”
I can’t. I want to, but I can’t listen to this after the cruel things he’d said to me days ago. Besides, I’m not naïve enough to believe that I can single-handedly tame the demons in his mind. “No. I’m just convenient.”
His body tenses as his fingers stiffly thread through my hair, his eyes pinching closed. He whispers, “I’m so sorry.”
“And I actually believe you are, but that doesn’t erase what you said, what you did to me last week.”
His fingers release my hair and his arms envelop me, hugging me flush against him. “I’ll make it up to you.”
I’m not sure he can, but although those words repeat in my mind, my true concern is him, his mental well-being. Because he’s anything but good. “Just try talking to a therapist. It might help.”
“I need to talk to my mom. I need to tell her I’m a jackass. That I still don’t understand her decision, but I’m glad she failed.”
“Because of you,” I whisper, unsure what to say but it’s the truth. The doctors said if Elliot hadn’t found her when he had, she wouldn’t have survived. Richard flashes through my mind. Is that why he’d been so livid at the hospital? I’d thought it strange that he was so angry, but I wrote it off as being a highly emotional time. Which it had been, but for a very different reason than I’d suspected. “Maybe just give her some time and get your head straight before you go back to see her.”
He shifts, looking to me. “Are you planning to see her? Is that why you don’t want me to go?”
Shaking my head, I bite the inside of my lip, stalling for a second before responding. “I’m not going back.”
“I was jealous.”
“What?”
“When I realized you’d been visiting her, I was jealous. She doesn’t want me there, but she welcomed you to visit week after week.”