I grinned to myself, feeling his fingers slowly move away from my throat and up to my jaw until he cupped it firmly. “And what’s that?”
Travis answered me by roughly spinning me, grabbing the sides of my face moments before his mouth met mine, a voracious display of carnal hunger, his tongue meeting mine in seconds and drowning me in everything that was him. Danger. Lust. Need. He was everything I shouldn’t want and everything I did.
In the beginning, I didn’t know how insane Ray was, but Travis? I’d known from the beginning, and did it help me to steer clear of him? Nope. I liked the danger, the feeling of being desired so strongly he would break off friendships for me. I liked knowing that he was mine and I didn’t have to compete with anyone else to win him. I didn’t see the whole picture with Ray, but with Travis I did. I saw the big picture, and it was a beautiful mess that I yearned to be a part of.
My legs hit the frame of Sawyer’s bed, and I fell back, Travis coming down with me, pinning me beneath him. Not like I was about to run the other way. No, we were far past that point now. So far past it I couldn’t even remember those days. Right here, right now, I didn’t miss the past.
Why miss the old days when the current days were so much better? Stalker aside, that was.
Our lips never broke apart, even as we inched up in the bed. The back of my head collided with Sawyer’s pillow, and Travis’s mouth only roamed to my neck to give him more room to reach for the nightstand, where Sawyer kept a good supply of condoms. That was one thing the douchebag was good for. Protection. If only condoms could keep the knives and serial killers away.
Alas, scientists hadn’t invented that brand yet.
After he found what he was looking for, it was a race to tug down our clothes. Whoever was the fastest…got naked first? Eh, not really sure where my mind was going with that, mostly because I was too zeroed in on the tattooed man above me and the hard-on he was sporting through his jeans.
Within a minute we were free of our clothing—or at least the most important bits, the clothing that would only get in the way of his cock getting inside of me—and he was rolling the condom on. His blue eyes met mine, two sparkling sapphires that whispered beautiful lies and dangerous truths, and yet again one of his hands found my throat, fingers curling around it slowly.
As long as he didn’t kill me during sex, I was fine with it. Besides, I knew by now Travis liked it rough, and since we were not at his place, where I knew for a fact he had restraints ready, this was the best he could do.
When he entered me, I let out a cry. Or I would’ve, if his hand hadn’t been around my neck, stifling my voice. Travis filled me up in one fluid motion; it was enough to make me forget about what happened downstairs, me going off on Sawyer. Being connected to him like this was practically otherworldly.
Travis’s hips moved fast and hard, and he kept a firm hand around my throat as he pumped in and out of me, my body merely taking whatever his would give me. I arched my back into the bed, allowing him to push in deeper, fill me up as much as my body would ever allow any cock. My core craved more, and I knew I’d get more. I’d have my fill and then some, because that’s how this worked. How we worked.
This…this was always how it was supposed to be. Never me and Ray. Me and Travis, me and Declan. Me and the rich, hot mess that was Hillcrest and its students. I thought Ray was my destiny, my ending, but I was wrong. This was a life I’d fight tooth and nail for. The man with a dragon wrapping around half his body and intricate tribal markings on the other was only one of the guys I’d fight for.
They were mine, and I wasn’t going to let Ray take them from me, or me from them.
My name was Ashley Bonds, and even though I’d like to pretend I was different, I was just like them, messed up in my own way. The only difference being? This psycho had pink hair, and she wasn’t afraid to play dirty.
Chapter Eighteen – Sawyer
I’d be lying if I said Ash’s words didn’t bother me, mostly because they did. Everything she said bothered me more than I wanted to admit. Ash, as blunt as she was, only spoke the truth when it came to me. She wasn’t one to sugarcoat things or tell white lies to make things easier to swallow.
I was just a shitty person. I didn’t want to be, not really, but deep down I was, and there was no changing it. The things I’d done, the things I’d said, all in the name of my sister—Ash was right. She’d never met Sabrina, but she was right all the same. Sabrina would hate to see me like this. I wasn’t the heroic older brother. I was just a washout, a has-been. Someone who fucked up constantly and never thought the world would get fed up with him.
The problem here was that I didn’t have a world anymore. I hardly had a family. I didn’t have friends. I was utterly alone, and when faced with reality, what the hell was I supposed to do? How was I supposed to act?
Ash had told the truth, the truth and then some, and I’d just sat there like an idiot, not knowing what to say.
I watched her storm upstairs, and I watched Travis go after her—even though, as dumb as it was, I wanted to go after her. I was the one who got her so upset. The problem here was me; I never knew when to stop fucking things up.
But I didn’t go after her. How could I? How could I go after her when she’d so clearly and confidently put me in my place? When she had multiple guys who were all willing to go the extra mile for her and I was…well, I was me. I didn’t go the extra mile. I didn’t try. The one and only thing I seemed to be good at was fucking up and expecting others to help me pick up my mess.
Declan stood with his hands in his jean pockets, his shoulders slumped. I could tell it took everything in him to not follow Ash, to remain in the living room with me. He looked…more mature than I remembered him being, no longer the dorky friend of mine who had a thing for my sister. We’d all changed, but not all of us for the better.
He was slow to draw his dark eyes away from the staircase, landing it on me. I sat, hunched over my knees, resisting my urge to get up and storm up those stairs myself. Even now, I wanted to go up there and follow her, tell her that I…
Tell her that I was sorry, for all the good it would do.
No, it was way too late for apologies. Everything she’d said was completely true, and I—
Wait a minute. Everything she said?
“You told me about what happened with her ex, but you didn’t tell me about Brooklyn,” I said, recalling what she’d said. Almost getting raped because of Brooklyn, Brooklyn hitting her with her car. I just…how? Brooklyn didn’t seem that crazy, but then again, she was willing to dye her hair pink just to be with me, so maybe that should’ve keyed me into her particular brand of crazy.
“I…there’s been a lot going on” was what Declan said, being as vague as ever.
Funny how everyone told me all about Ray Ruiz, Ash’s crazy as fuck ex, but they never told me about mine. Brooklyn was an attempted murderer and a would-be rapist. I didn’t…honestly, even now, the night of the party was a blur, but bits and pieces had come to me. Small parts. Brooklyn did invite me to a Stanton bash, and I went because I…because I had nowhere else to go, and I was tired of cleaning my place after I threw parties.
“Brooklyn almost had Ash raped?” I spoke the words Ash had said, feeling them in my bones. It was not a pleasant feeling, being upset for someone else, and feeling guilty, like it was all my fault. After all, Ash and Brooklyn had only met because of me, because of the stupid shit I did.
Declan nodded once. “If Travis wasn’t there watching, it would’ve happened, too.”
Travis saved her? Then I supposed it was a good thing Travis was the one who was up there with her now. I sluggishly got to my feet, feeling, for the first time in a while, the need to flex my muscles, the need to…to hit something. Maybe even someone.
Again, for the first time in a long time, Declan wasn’t the one I wanted to hit. I knew it wasn’t right to want to hit a girl, but come on. There were lines—and while I’d crossed them all, Brooklyn had, too
.
“She tried to have Ash raped, and she hit her with her car?” I asked, meeting Declan’s eyes.
Declan’s mouth was a thin line, and it looked like he was lost in his own thoughts. “Apparently not in that order, but yeah.”
Brooklyn had tried to kill Ash. The sentence didn’t want to sit in my head, because it just didn’t sound right. My mind whirled. “And none of you guys called the cops on her? None of you did anything? You just sat here, watching me, like I’m the one who needed your help. You should’ve been helping Ash, not me—”
“We were helping Ash,” Declan cut in, “by helping you.”
I wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that, but I took offense to it. “That’s fucking stupid.”
My feet drew me out of the living room, and I found myself glancing toward the stairs. It took every ounce of restraint in me not to go up those steps, not to see Ash for myself, not to ask her why she’d gotten so lucky. Any other girl wouldn’t have made it out of those situations without a scratch, but her? She’d been hit by a car, nearly raped, and practically kidnapped by her psycho ex, and yet here she was, still alive, still breathing.
I’d lost Sabrina, but Ash? Ash had been through a hell of a lot, too—and she was a lot stronger than I was.
No, I couldn’t go upstairs, so I headed to the patio in the back, sitting myself on the nearest chair. I sank into the cushion, leaning back as I stared at the sky. Twilight, a few stars peeking through but not as many as there would be once the world was shrouded in black. I breathed in deeply, and suddenly I was so very tired. Tired of it all. Physically exhausted. Mentally drained.
Was this what life was supposed to be like? Was this how it was supposed to feel? I didn’t like it. It was so much easier to be numb to it all, to block out the pain and the hurt and the worry.
I sighed, closing my eyes. Declan didn’t follow me out, but I knew if I looked at the house, I’d see him watching. None of us could ever truly be alone here, not with everything that was going on.
I did my best as I sat there to not let my mind wander, but it was difficult. Impossible, really. I failed in saving Sabrina, so why should I even attempt to try to help Ash? Ash had Declan and Travis—and Will, clearly—she didn’t need another fuckup trying to make things better. In all honesty, I’d only make things worse. That’s what I did. That was my name brand.
Sawyer Salvatore, resident playboy and fuckup. If you need a dick, he’s your man, but don’t ask him to feel. Don’t ask for anything real.
Wasn’t that just the depressing truth?
I couldn’t say how long I sat there, but it was a while. The next time I opened my eyes, I wasn’t outside, or even at my house. I was…home? Sitting on the front marble steps to my parents’ house. Odd, but my mind couldn’t remember the last thing I’d been doing.
Almost instinctively, I got up, turning to head towards the door, pushing inside and entering this place that hardly felt familiar anymore. The first moment my feet stepped into the house, my stomach plummeted. Whatever I was about to see, I knew I wasn’t going to like it.
Out of the foyer, into the hall. Past the greeting room, where my mother always had her drinks with her friends after church. The socializing room that I hardly ever stepped foot in. I made it to the dining room, rich wooden beams overhead, the ceiling taller than in a typical house. When you were rich, you tended to go extravagant on absolutely everything.
One of the chairs from the long dining table was pulled away from it, a note scribbled and left at the table’s head. A girl was busy climbing onto the chair and reaching for something that hung from one of the beams—a noose. A thick rope tied to become a noose.
Immediately my mind flashed back, and I wondered if this was finally my chance at saving my sister, at helping Sabrina when I normally couldn’t, but then the girl stood on the chair, facing me as she reached for the noose and lifted it over her head. Her blonde, pink-tipped head.
It wasn’t Sabrina. It was Ash.
I stood ten feet from her, and yet the distance felt like miles. “Ash,” I called out to her, afraid to rush closer, fearing that she’d slip and fall, accidentally kick the chair to the side and break her own neck before I got to her. “What are you doing?”
“What I should’ve done a long time ago,” Ash answered, looking at me with those storm grey eyes. Staring at her was like staring at an approaching hurricane. Half of you wanted to run, while the other half desperately wanted to stay and watch whatever havoc it would bring. She tightened the noose around her neck, the rope snug.
“Don’t,” I begged, taking a single step closer. Or, at least, I thought I moved closer. But she seemed to grow farther away as the seconds ticked on, as if the house itself was stretching, refusing to let me near her.
“It’s too late,” Ash whispered, a single tear falling along her cheek, curving with her face until it ran to her chin, dropping onto her chest. I noticed then she wore no shoes, and her feet were bloody. “It’s always been too late, Sawyer. Nothing you ever do will change it.” And then Ash did the one thing I didn’t want her to: she pushed herself off the chair, practically jumping, her feet kicking the chair away.
I called out to her, screamed for her, but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t a big fall, so her neck didn’t break. I tried running to her, but the house wouldn’t let me near. This was my fate, to lose it all. To lose everything I ever cared about. Ash’s end was just like Sabrina’s, only this time—this time there was no one to blame but myself.
It was only when Ash’s body became limp that I was finally able to reach her, to grab her midsection and hoist her up, undoing the noose around her neck even though I knew it was too late. That was my motto: too little, too late. After all this time, I didn’t know how to change it.
Once I got her down, I collapsed to the floor, cradling her body against mine. She was limp, and already cold somehow. One arm kept her body against mine, the other swept a hand through her hair, getting it away from her face. A bruised ring was already forming around her neck. How did she get so cold so fast?
“No,” I murmured, feeling my shoulders begin to shake. “Ash, why…” It seemed my tongue could hardly form words. I could barely speak as I gazed down at her. A simple, flawless perfection I didn’t even notice until it was too late.
This…there was no going back from this. This was the point of no return, and I hated it. I would give anything and everything to undo this, to take it all back. She didn’t deserve any of those things I said, what I did. I never should’ve dragged her into my mess; if I hadn’t, odds were she’d still be alive.
And that—that was the worst thought of them all.
“This is my fault,” I whispered. “This is all my fault, Ash. I didn’t want this to happen.” I was about to say more, to tell her that I was sorry for it all, even though it was far too late for apologies, but the world around me faded, and I jerked awake.
A dream.
Just a dream.
My back ached from falling asleep on the patio chair, and as I let out a groan and sat up, I found I was no longer alone outside. Travis leaned against the house, watching me with eyes that knew too much, as if he’d seen my dream for himself. He was busy lighting up a cigarette, hardly blinking.
The sky above us was pitch-black now, clouds having rolled over and covered the view of the stars and the moon. The only light around us was the light coming from inside the house. I saw Ash on the couch through the windows, sitting near Declan. She was busy laughing, and inside my gut, I felt a pang of…something. Regret? Longing?
Or maybe it was fear. Fear over losing her. Fear for what she was doing to me.
I opened my mouth, saying the words I felt deep inside my soul, “I fucked up.”
Travis frowned, inhaling and filling his lungs with smoke. “You’re you, Sawyer. Fucking up is what you do.” The truth, and yet the words stung me like a thousand bees.
Yes, I was Sawyer Salvatore, and I fucked up on more occasions th
an not, but you know what? This…this was a first.
This was the first time that I cared.
Chapter Nineteen – Travis
I was not looking forward to break. Even though we’d all made plans to end Thanksgiving break early and return here as soon as we could—the Friday after, when the meals were done and everybody was sated when it came to Turkey and stuffing and all that for another year—I still didn’t like it.
Being away from Ash, even if only for a few days, was going to be torturous. Plus, she was spending the break with Declan and Will. I guess she didn’t have family, so her mother was all too thrilled to accept Dean Briggs’s invitation to have Thanksgiving at his house. Will came through on that, at least.
I suppose it was good for Ash to be with one of us rather than none of us. Still, though, I strongly loathed the fact I’d have to go with Sawyer.
Tick, tick, tick. The time was ticking. Markus was going to help, but even knowing that he would come wasn’t enough sometimes. I knew it was smarter to wait—Markus had more ins and outs than I did; he knew where I could have a little one-on-one time with Ray where no one would interrupt us. Oh, I itched for that day, and it would come soon enough.
It was a few days before Thanksgiving break when I had to get up in the middle of the night. I couldn’t sleep. I felt restless. So I rolled off the bed I shared with Ash and Declan as quietly as I could, wearing nothing but jeans as I headed down the stairs and into the kitchen. After unlocking the patio door, I stepped outside and reached into my pocket. My fingers touched the worn case of cigarettes the moment I realized I wasn’t alone.
I was alone on the patio, but in the backyard—which was oddly small, considering how big the house itself was—I wasn’t. Standing in the grass, leaning against one of the few aged trees on the property, was the man of the month himself.
Ray Ruiz.
Ray fucking Ruiz was here, not even twenty feet away, holding onto what looked like a small box, and I was shirtless, shoeless, basically offense-less and defenseless since it was just me and him. Right here, right now, he had the upper hand, only because he caught me off-guard. He could’ve had me, if he wanted. He could’ve stood closer to the house, jumped me, maybe even killed me—though I would’ve given him all the fight I had in me.
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