by MV Ellis
“Then suddenly, everything seemed to change. It was like a black cloud settled over her life and never left. I could see it right there on the page, the exact moment it all started to go downhill. It was like someone gave her a personality transplant overnight. She became withdrawn, depressed, and angry. She was so freaking angry. It’s ironic that her name was Faith because, all of a sudden, she had none. She’d lost her mojo, and I don’t believe she ever found it again.
“After that, she talked a lot about wanting to feel numb. To feel nothing and think nothing, just to have a break from the shit whirling around in her brain. I can completely identify with that feeling of wanting to escape from yourself and your thoughts for a second, minute, hour.
“I kept reading, and in the last journal I found out what caused the change. She was being molested by my grandfather’s best friend, and I think that’s what started the downward spiral that eventually led to her and my father’s deaths. I believe she turned to drugs to achieve that feeling of not feeling she described in those books. Her trauma had been rape.” I kept my eyes on Luke, watching every expression that flitted across his face—confusion, shock, revulsion. “Mine was parental suicide. Her temporary salve was drugs. Mine was bingeing and purging.”
“What?”
“Yeah. I know. You had no idea. Nobody did.”
I stopped speaking, letting the words hang in the silence between us. Luke looked at me expectantly, waiting for an explanation.
“When I was called to the principal’s office, and they told me the ‘news’ about my parents, I ran to the bathroom and lost my lunch. Afterward, I felt kind of like shit, but also kind of light, almost high, but most importantly, I was numb. I felt nothing, and liked it. That’s where it started.”
“I don’t even know what to say right now.”
“Don’t say anything. I’m telling you all this so that you don’t have to say anything to me again.”
Seeing the sadness and defeat in his eyes was killing me, but I needed to do this. For him. I knew this would be the nail in the coffin. Like he said, there are some things you can’t unsee, or in this case, unhear. Once he knew everything, I was certain he’d change his mind about wanting to be with me. Who in their right mind wouldn’t? Hell, if I could ditch me, I would. I was stuck with me, but he didn’t need to be.
“You know what finally snapped me out of the purging? Screwing Arlo. The post-coital high I got after we fucked gave me the same feeling, but it kind of felt healthier, and was definitely better for my body than puking myself inside out. Sex with him had been a crutch for me for so long that when my life went to crap again—I lost my contract, Arlo called off our arrangement, you rejected me—I couldn’t handle it. I literally didn’t have the tools, and I relapsed. Those days when you couldn’t reach me on the phone? I was holed up in my apartment spiraling out of control.”
Luke looked pained. I saw the guilt written across his beautiful face.
“I’m sorry I contributed to that. So sorry. I wasn’t rejecting you. I was freaking the fuck out. I’d wanted you for so long, and then I had you, but so soon after things ended with Arlo. I honestly didn’t know what to think, and obviously I didn’t know what to say. I was a dick, and I’ll always regret the fact that I hurt you so badly because of my own stupid insecurities.” He looked close to tears, and I felt like someone had stomped on my chest.
“I came here hoping that the change of scenery and fresher air might help me get back on track, and it’s been working so far. I’ve only been tempted once, and that’s why I ended up in the attic.”
I stopped speaking and waited. Luke looked devastated but continued to say nothing. “It’s okay. I know this is the part where you tell me it can never work between us, just like I’ve been telling you, and we wish each other well.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“What?”
“This isn’t the part where I end things between us before they even began because of what’s happened to you and who you are.”
What?
“This is the part where I love and admire you more now than I did ten minutes ago. Know this. Every time you tell me something else about you that you think will scare me away, it just draws me closer. Every horrible thing in your past that you think defines you and repels me, makes me want to know you better. To see you. To find you in amongst that complex maze that life has built around you and through the walls that you’ve built around yourself.” Huh?
“I don’t know why you keep trying, but you need to understand that there’s nothing you could tell me that would put me off or turn me away. You’re the strongest, most determined, most resilient person I’ve ever met. I’m in total awe of you, and I want you in my life officially and forever. And I’m not talking about in the friend zone.”
“But you heard what I just said. I’m destined to be a screwup. It’s literally in my DNA. Why would you want to be anywhere near that hot mess?”
“Because it’s your hot mess, and I love you. There’s no more to it than that. Besides, do you think the rest of us have our shit all worked out? Everyone’s a screwup waiting to happen, not just you. We’re all just trying to do the best we can with the hand we’ve been dealt. It just so happens that your hand was worse than most people’s. A lot worse. Speaking of which, I wanted to ask you if you ever told anyone. You know, about finding your folks that way?”
“Nope.”
“Not even Mia?”
“No.”
“Children’s Protective Services. A guidance counselor. Or a therapist. Anyone?”
“Not a soul. You were the first person I’d ever said those words to. It’s a secret I was planning on taking to my grave, and to be honest, I’m not even sure why I even told you. I kind of regretted it as soon as the words left my lips.”
“My God, are you for real? You told nobody? Marnie, this is a huge fucking deal. I mean, losing a parent is huge. Losing both parents is mega. Finding both your parents dead, especially in that way, is next fucking level and way too much for a thirteen-year-old to bear alone. I don’t know why or how you’ve kept that inside for so many years. How about the other thing? The vomiting.”
“Ditto.”
“Jesus, Marnie. This is massive.”
“You don’t need to tell me that. Believe me, I know. I’m the one who’s been carrying the weight of it around like stones in my pocket for more than half my life.”
“Thank you.”
“Huh? What the fuck for? Being the biggest train wreck you’ve ever met?”
“No. For trusting me with all of this. I’m honored that you did.” It was official. I had no idea how his mind worked. Talking to him was like living a permanent state of opposite day.
“Are you actually nuts?”
“Probably. No, scrap that. Definitely when it comes to you. But the joke’s on you because you’re stuck with me. Despite your best efforts to the contrary, I’m not going anywhere.” A goofy grin spread across his face. My heart.
“Jesus, you Jones brothers are all hardheaded bastards in your own different ways.”
“We are. And speaking of hard….” He motioned down to his crotch.
“Make that hardheaded and horny,” I corrected.
“Yeah, that about sums us up. So, what are we going to do about the smaller of my hard heads?”
I tried not to laugh and failed. It was too stupid and funny to even pretend to be pissed at him.
“Well, I don’t know. What shall we do? How about some cold water to the affected area? That should solve the problem, no?”
“Momentarily, maybe, but you can’t keep a good man down, as they say. He’d be back on form in no time. Nope. It’s going to have to be a more… satisfying solution.”
He smiled, and I hated him for it. He had me, and he knew it.
He stood up, pulling me to my feet with him, and immediately began closing the gap between us. I, in turn, stepped backward, and we continued the dance—him moving forward ever
y time I moved back—until I was flush against the kitchen counter with nowhere to go. He caged me with his arms, each palm pressed firm and flat against granite worktop on either side of my body.
I was trapped. Not by his arms, but by his eyes. I’d always been fascinated by them but wary at the same time. His ability to use them as a weapon scared me. I found their startling intensity, both in their vivid emerald depths and in the ferocity of his stare, intimidating. I feared that when he fixed me with that penetrating stare that was really more of a glare, he was looking not just at me but into me. I didn’t want anyone to do that, especially not him. I was terrified that if he looked hard enough, he’d actually find me, and I didn’t want to be found.
Luke leaned forward, still looking at me but talking to the dog still snuggled in my arms.
“Ronnie, cover your eyes and ears. Mommy and Daddy are about to do some lewd shit right here.”
Mommy and Daddy. My chest tightened, knowing I’d never hear him say those words about us for real. It broke my heart. He took Ronnie from my arms, bent down, and tenderly placed her onto her bed, kissing her tiny soft head as he did. He’d make a great father someday—not that I’d ever experience it.
When he straightened up again, I stood on tiptoes and pushed my lips to his. He kissed me back without hesitation, quickly easing his tongue into my mouth. My stomach lurched, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. The slightest touch, and my libido was already on fire, so when he ground his erection against me, bending his knees so that he was at just the right angle to hit me where it mattered, I nearly lost it. I gasped at the shockwave of pleasure that ricocheted around my body.
I leaned heavily against the countertop for support, pushing Luke away gently so that I could speak.
“You make me so horny I don’t know if I want to give in to the urge and do this hard and fast, or if we should take it slow and savor the moment.”
“We don’t have to choose one or the other. We have forever.”
I so badly wanted to believe those words, to be able to give in to the fantasy that this could be it for us. I kissed him again, this time agonizingly slowly. I bit, nibbled, sucked, and tasted. I reached up and grabbed his neck, pulling his forehead to rest against mine.
“Upstairs.”
Luke shook his head.
“Right here.”
He reached around in the compact kitchen for his wallet on the counter, pulled out a condom, and quickly slipped it on. He thrust forward, lifting me onto the edge of the counter. I instinctively followed his lead, wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck. At the same time, Luke pushed inside me, thrusting hard—instantly hitting the spot. I swore I felt my pupils dilate under my heavy lids. Luke took that as his cue to go deeper and harder, establishing a deliciously torturous rhythm.
Holy shit. That position rocked my world. Sex with Luke had been amazing every time, but this was next-level phenomenal, though I didn’t know how long I could take that level of pleasure. When he tilted forward and bit one of my nipples through my T-shirt while continuing to drive hard into me, I knew it wasn’t going to be long.
Even with such a powerful buildup, the intensity of my orgasm took me by surprise. I came hard, biting on my bottom lip to avoid screaming out and startling Ronnie. Moments later, as I clenched vise-like against his straining dick, Luke came too, his legs trembling as he lowered us to the ground, still locked into each other.
Luke rested his forehead against mine and spoke in a low voice, thick with emotion. “Now that I’ve found you, I won’t let you lose me.”
Thirty-Nine
Luke
I knew very well that I couldn’t fuck her into believing in us. I couldn’t use my dick to persuade her that we had a chance. That no matter what skeletons fell out of the closet, no matter what speed humps life threw our way, we could make it through them together.
Though she didn’t think it was possible, there really was nothing she could say or do to turn me off. In fact, the more obstacles life sent our way, the more determined I was to give it the finger and get my girl regardless. I knew I just needed to continue to be patient.
The next few weeks were a testament to my patience, stamina, and self-control, in more ways than one. Firstly, though Arlo had originally told us he would be stepping away from the production process and handing the reins for finishing the album over to the rest of us while he concentrated on getting his house in order and winning London back, he did an almost immediate one-eighty days later, after coming up with a typically Arlo-esque plan to win her back. For a guy who had previously given zero fucks about pretty much anyone other than himself, since meeting and falling for London, he’d embraced grand gestures in a way I’d never have believed possible if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.
His next plan was possibly the most ambitious of them all because Arlo always was a go hard or go home kind of a guy. His latest scheme involved staging a one-off “secret” gig featuring songs from our new album to a live audience of selected uber-fans, competition winners, and a small number of industry people, and live-streamed globally. All this was an elaborate plan to woo London back from Sydney, assuming that she would be one of the however many millions of people who chose to tune in to the event.
Usually I kind of secretly admired my brother’s ambitious, take-no-prisoners attitude, but since Marniegate had gone down, pretty much everything he did stuck in my craw. This move especially so. First the whole plan hinged on the new album. The album that, despite us supposedly being a collective, was comprised almost entirely of Arlo’s odes to London. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the secret gig was happening with only two weeks’ notice, in which time we not only needed to rehearse the songs, which was standard procedure, but we also needed to finish them, which was not.
This was such a typically Arlo move, it made me see red every time I thought about it too hard, so I tried not to. The fact that he had no qualms in unilaterally making decisions that affected us all, without asking or even consulting us in any way, was beyond arrogant and bordered on dictatorial. I didn’t know if I was madder at him for presuming to assume that we’d all fall into line behind him, or with us for doing exactly that and having his back every-fucking-time, regardless of how he treated us.
This time was a more extreme example than most. Arlo had us working around the clock for a hastily organized gig with the sole purpose of wooing back the love of his life. All the while, he was also planning how he could take down the love of mine. Still, I fell into line, like the first-class chump I was and always had been when it came to my brother, asking how high.
Not only that, but in doing so, I was missing out on precious time with Marnie when she really needed me, and just as importantly, our relationship needed me. The more I thought about it, the more in-fucking-sane it seemed and the more I was beginning to agree with Marnie’s assessment of the dynamic between myself and Arlo. Maybe I really did have Stockholm Syndrome. What the hell other explanation could there be for the way I let him tread all over my balls time and time again?
Why else was I spending every hour God gave us, and a few donated by the devil, finalizing and perfecting the album while dying inside, desperate to be home spending time with Marnie? Home. Though it wasn’t official, Mia’s place was definitely starting to feel that way for the three of us—Marnie, Ronnie, and me. It was a home base, at the very least. Although with the hours I was keeping at the studio, I wasn’t there half as much as I wanted to be, or as Marnie wanted me to be, for that matter.
Not that she said anything because Marnie was always so… Marnie, that she never would. Thankfully, much of the time I could read her like a book. She disapproved of my involvement with the secret gig, and I really didn’t blame her. I disapproved of my involvement, and I was the one pulling off eighteen-hour days, and then some, to make it happen. The fact was I was working like a serf around the clock to help Arlo achieve his goals while simultaneously depriving myself of the op
portunity to achieve my own. All of this after I’d promised Marnie that I’d chosen her over Arlo. The irony was not wasted on me. Neither was Marnie’s disappointment.
On the other hand, I wasn’t a total pushover. There was still some fight left in me. I did my duty—I attended every session and rehearsal required—but I think it was obvious to everyone, even hardheaded Arlo, that it was exactly that, a duty. I was clearly there under duress, and as much as you could when you were working in a tiny space together 24/7, I gave Arlo a wide path the entire time. We could go days without directly addressing each other and when we did, it was the minimum amount of contact required to get the job done.
We avoided each other during our breaks too, but if our paths did cross and interaction was unavoidable, we kept it to the minimum level of civility required not to cause a scene. The whole situation was awkward as all hell, for the other boys as much as Arlo and me, if not more so. They were stuck between the two of us after all, and though neither Arlo nor myself would ever explicitly force them to take sides, I knew they felt like kids in the middle of a divorce—trying desperately to show they loved both their parents equally and not doing anything that could in any way be viewed as partisan. As someone who had been through that as a child, I knew exactly how much of a mindfuck it was, and I resented that Arlo’s pigheaded and stubborn actions had brought us to that point.
By far the highpoint of any day was the time I managed to spend with Marnie— whatever form that took. Sometimes the hours were so long that I had to settle for a quick text whenever we had a spare moment or FaceTime during one of our breaks, where she and Ronnie would just about break my heart with their cuteness as we chatted about our various days. Texts were no replacement for the real thing, but I loved the anticipation they would cause to build up between us.
Me: Hey, beautiful, what are you doing?
Marnie: Nothing, just spooning on the couch with Ronnie.
Me: Fuck. Is it weird for me to be jealous of a puppy?