Wherever You Are (Bad Reputation Duet Book 2)

by Krista Ritchie

  “Garrison,” she smiles a little like she can see she’s getting to me. “You okay?” She touches my jaw.

  “Fuck,” I groan and then stare down the length of her. “I want to make you come so goddamn badly.”

  “Then do it.”

  My mouth drops a second in shock and desire, and her glittering smile reaches her eyes.

  “That a demand?” I ask.

  Her smile falters. “No. Of course, you don’t have to—”

  Fuck. I kiss her again, stopping her from overthinking this to death. When I part from her lips, I say, “I’m going to make you come, but I’m only going to put one finger in you. How does that sound?”

  She nods and relaxes more. I scoot closer to her, our legs tangled. But I’m still lying on my side while she’s on her back. I have a better view, and she has less chance of feeling my erection.

  Our lips continue to explore each other, deepening, and while she loses herself to the moment, I skate my hand underneath the waistband of her panties.

  Holy…

  My fingers immediately dip into her wetness. Soaked. I skim the top of her swollen clit, and she shudders instantly. I barely rub her, and she breaks from my mouth with a soft cry. “Garrison.”

  Fuckfuckfuck.

  She buries her head into the crook of my chest, breath heavying as I make soft circular patterns over her sensitive flesh.

  Moans breach her lips, and her eyes snap shut like her senses are overloading. Reboot and restore are not going to be in progress any time soon. Not until I give her the best orgasm of her fucking life.

  I can’t believe she’s this sensitive with nothing inside of her.

  It’s blowing my mind.

  I press my thumb more firmly onto her swollen bud.

  Her thighs tremble, and she lets out a whimper.

  “I have you,” I say. “You’re alright.”

  She starts thrusting against my hand. Arching her hips.

  I don’t think she even knows what she’s doing because her eyes are closed, and she looks gone. But it’s like her body is calling out for a release. Calling out for me to fill her completely with my length and bring her to that peak. It’s like her body knows what it wants faster than her head.

  But I’m listening to her head on this one.

  Still, I watch her hips lift and lower in small throbbing waves. My body is set on blaze, and I ache to reach down my pants and release my one pent-up need.

  I’m not there yet. But I’ve got to end her torment.

  I slide a finger through her slick folds and inside her. Beyond tight, she immediately clenches around me. Christ.

  Her legs vibrate, and her forehead presses harder into my chest. “Garrison. Ah…”

  I pulse inside of her a couple times and continue circling her clit. It happens so fast. Her abdomen spasms and her cries bleed into the air. Her hand whips to my wrist to stop my movements. Too sensitive. Too gone.

  She curls up on her side, even with my hand still against her heat. Like she’s cocooning herself against me. My head is floating, a billion miles in the sky. So wrapped up in this girl.

  Her flesh glistens with a light layer of sweat, and I brush back her hair so that I can see her face. “You okay?” I ask.

  “Mmmhmm.” Her breathing is still heavy.

  I can’t last much longer. I remove my hand from her panties, my fingers slick. “I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be right back. Promise—”

  She catches my wrist to stop me.

  Veins pulsate in my dick. “Willow,” I whisper. “I have to go jack off.”

  “I know,” she says, still out of breath. “You can do it here, though.”

  Here?

  “In your bed?” I lick my lips. “You sure?”

  “Yeah. I want to…um…watch you.”

  I smile. “Seems fair.” I just got to watch her orgasm. I lie on my side again.

  She smiles back. “Do you need—”

  “Don’t offer it, if it’s just because you think you have to,” I say, stopping her. “I don’t need you to touch me if you’re not ready.”

  Hesitation fills her gaze. “You sure?”

  “Yeah. This is enough.” I didn’t even think I’d be doing this tonight. I slide my pants to my ankles and kick them off. Just in my boxer-briefs, I slip my hand down the fabric, gripping my rock-hard dick. Unlike her, I don’t close my eyes.

  I keep them open and attached to Willow as I stroke myself.

  She watches me with parted lips.

  She looks at me like I’m an otherworldly thing too good for this Earth, but I’m lying next to her jacking off while literally wearing a devil’s costume.

  In my soul, I know, hell is where I’m from.

  39 BACK THEN – February

  Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

  WILLOW HALE

  Age 19

  On one of the best days of my life, it has to be pouring. Rain pelts the roof of the courthouse, and I guess it should feel ominous. But I couldn’t be happier sitting in the first row beside Garrison and my dad.

  My dad.

  I’ve been referring to Jonathan Hale as my father for almost a year now. He reached out to me, wanting to have a relationship. Wanting to get to know me.

  Our first real meeting as father and daughter was accompanied by Ryke and Lo, but it told me what I needed to know.

  Jonathan Hale isn’t perfect. Not in the slightest. But I’ve never had a parent fight to spend time with me. My mom let me run off to Philly like she was tossing feathers into the wind, and long before that, Robert Moore rejected me just on the assumption that I might not be his daughter. Maybe deep down he knew.

  And he’s here.

  In the very back row.

  He’s the only part of the day that clouds the happiness. I don’t peek over my shoulder again to check if he’s still in the courtroom. I know he has to be.

  Garrison holds my hand tightly, giving me encouraging nods. The fact that he’s here with me through these giant moments in my life—it brings about this wave of comfort and longing. For a future. One that lasts forever with him.

  Lily leans over Garrison, at the end of the first row with Lo, to whisper to me, “They’re here.”

  Okay, I have to glance back this time. Sucking in a breath, I rotate a little. But four bodies block my view from Robert Moore.

  Daisy, Ryke, Connor, and Rose walk down the aisle, and Daisy rings out her sopping wet hair, drenched from the storm. Her other hand rests atop her round belly, baby due any day now.

  They came here just for me. It’s an overwhelming feeling knowing that so many people care. This isn’t a birth or a wedding. It’s just one of those unique pivotal moments in my life that I didn’t think would matter to other people.

  But I see that it does.

  My glasses mist, and I quickly rotate to face the front. Not wanting them to see me cry. I take my glasses off, wiping the lenses with my shirt.

  When I turn back, they’ve already slipped into the second row. “Thanks for coming, everyone,” I tell them.

  “Wouldn’t fucking miss it,” Ryke says.

  I put my glasses back on and hold his gaze, which has been easier these days. My relationship with Ryke isn’t so awkward anymore. And I couldn’t tell you the day that it changed. It was a slow, gradual process to accept that this intimidating force in my life is also my big brother.

  “I meant to give you this.” My hand shakes as I pass him an envelope. Willow, you fool, stop shaking. “You can open it now or later. I already gave Lo and Dad his.”

  “Are we doing presents already?” Lily asks.

  Daisy stands. “I left Willow’s in the car.”

  “No, it’s alright,” I tell her. “I can wait until later. The time just presented itself to give them theirs, so…”

  Daisy gives me a smile. “I really want you to see it. I’ll be right back, and I’ll be really fast.” She holds out her palm to Ryke, asking for the car keys. Daisy’s enth
usiasm is contagious, and I find myself grinning.

  Rose and Lily stand like they’re accompanying Daisy, and Ryke passes his wife the keys, despite the torrential downpour outside. Daisy jingles them in excitement before ambling out with Rose and Lily.

  Just as they leave, Ryke tears open the envelope.

  My heart beats faster. Gift-giving always has that effect. What if the recipient hates it? And then there’s the worst scenario: the recipient hates a gift but pretends to love it, and it’s so obvious that both parties partake in this quasi lie.

  But luckily, I don’t think Ryke would lie.

  All worry washes away when Ryke pulls out a photograph. It was taken in a candid moment during Christmas at the mountain lake house. Lo, Ryke, and I sit on the patio around a fire. We’re all drinking homemade, non-alcoholic Butterbeer that Lily and I concocted together.

  All three of us are smiling.

  Ryke doesn’t say anything as he stares at the photo, but he has this faraway look like he’s remembering that day. He flips it over.

  I wrote on the back.

  Ryke Meadows (Gryffindor), Loren Hale (Slytherin), Willow Hale (Gryffindor, like Neville Longbottom).

  Thanks for caring about me, even before we were family.

  I could have probably said more, but the photograph wasn’t big enough. Anyway, I don’t think there are enough words in the dictionary to describe what my brothers mean to me. What Ryke means to me.

  He takes a deeper breath. “You changed your name?” he asks, his voice splitting.

  Tears threaten to rise. “It’s pending, but yeah.” My eyes burn, fighting off the waterworks. “I just hope everything goes right.”

  I guess, there’s still a possibility that things end poorly today. But I’ve tried not to believe that. I glance anxiously at the judge’s bench. Empty. Once she arrives, all will either go smoothly or horribly.

  Even though Jonathan Hale is my biological father, Robert Moore has legal claim, since he was my dad at the time of my birth. It’s all really complicated, and I hate that there are hoops to be jumped through just so that Jonathan can be my dad on paper.

  The biggest hurdle: Robert has to give consent to Jonathan.

  I may be eighteen, but Jonathan wants me on his health insurance, and I’m willing to accept some financial help from him. Maybe not a lot. But I don’t want to be drowning in debt when my dad actively wants to be involved. I figure it’s easier accepting this than a twenty-grand medical bill from an accident or surgery or some unknown thing happening to me.

  “I need to talk to you,” Connor says, abruptly capturing everyone’s attention.

  His gaze isn’t planted on me though.

  He’s looking at Garrison.

  My boyfriend frowns. “Me?”

  “I am staring at you,” Connor says, expressionless and calm.

  Garrison turns to me for answers, just as puzzled as I am.

  I shake my head. I don’t know what this is about.

  “Let’s not drag this fucking out, Cobalt,” Ryke says, but his brows are furrowed in confusion. I think that Connor might be the only one who’s caught up to speed.

  Connor says to Garrison, “I’ve been looking for a new investment, and I want to invest in you.”

  Garrison laughs like it’s a joke. I want to whisper to him and tell him that I don’t think it is, but his face quickly falls when he sees Connor is just waiting patiently for him.

  “You’re serious?” Garrison’s brows shoot up. “You want to invest in me?” He pauses. “You do know who I am, right?”

  “Garrison Abbey, proficient in tech and coding. You like Tumblr, gifs, hacking, Final Cut, classic video games, and the girl sitting next to you.”

  Wow…he’s good.

  Garrison shrugs off his leather jacket like he’s hot with frustration. “I’m unreliable. I was kicked out of two high schools. I have no fucking plans to go to college—”

  “You lack confidence, so I’ll give you some right now. You’re talented, self-motivated, and driven. If you don’t see that in yourself, open your eyes and look at what you can do. All I’m asking is for you to create something, anything, and I’ll back it.”

  Garrison blinks for a long beat. Stunned and shocked. “Why?”

  “I value everything I just listed, and you need someone who believes in you. Create something brilliant, Garrison, or don’t create anything at all. That’s your choice.”

  Garrison stays quiet, processing. I’m doing the same. It’s a lot to digest.

  Lo says, “Take it, man. The god has spoken.”

  Connor grins.

  Ryke groans. “Come on. He’s a fucking six-foot-four human being with good hair.”

  “At least we’ve established one thing,” Connor says. “Ryke loves my hair.”

  “I think you want to be fucking punched in a courthouse.”

  Connor’s grin widens, but he plants his deep blue eyes back on Garrison.

  My boyfriend’s brows are furrowed, still thinking over the offer, and he keeps glancing at me. The second time he does, I realize why. It didn’t really hit me until now, but if he accepts Connor’s offer, we may not see each other that much anymore.

  At least not for the next four years.

  My stomach is already churning, but there’s no desire to stop Garrison from this. Not for me. When he looks to me for the third time, I tell him, “Take it.” Our eyes lock in a heady beat. “You can do anything, Garrison.”

  I truly, truly believe this.

  Garrison looks back to Connor. “I’ll have to stay in Philadelphia?”

  “Yes,” he says. “You’ve never done a start-up of any kind, and while you’re creative, you need me to teach you about business.”

  Connor isn’t the type to just blindly invest in a person. This isn’t a normal job offer, and anyone receiving it would be jumping head-first at the chance. No questions asked.

  Garrison angles towards me, confusion still pleating his forehead. His eyes carry raw, hard truths.

  I’ve been accepted to Wakefield University, and I’ll be leaving for London in August.

  Different countries.

  Different continents.

  A whole ocean separating us. And I see that he wants to keep me close. I want him by my side, too. That was the plan when I chose this college. But he can’t come to London and leave behind an opportunity as great and big as this one. Working at Cobalt Inc. is the road that will lead him in the right direction. I know it.

  “Take it,” I repeat, sucking in a tight breath. Pain lances me. “I just want the best for you.” This is the best.

  “The best for me is to be with you.” His nose flares, restraining emotion. “I’m a better fucking person when I’m with you.” He rubs his face a couple times, trying to stop himself from crying.

  Our lives are about to split, fissure, and fracture by this one decision. But I think it’d break worse if he didn’t choose the job. I think we’d both resent each other in the end.

  I lean closer to him, a breath apart. “Don’t be afraid,” I whisper. “You can do anything on your own. I know you can.” But can I be without him? The question rips through me, and my glasses fog up.

  I take them off.

  His reddened eyes meet mine, and he’s a little fuzzy in my vision now, but it’s not too bad. He clasps my hand, threading his fingers. “I love you,” he says.

  Tears crease my eyes.

  “No matter where we are,” he tells me. “You’re always going to be my girl.”

  The future feels different now that Garrison and I are planning to live apart. More somber and up in the air. But I try to push the reality behind me to focus on what’s before me.

  The courtroom quiets as Robert Moore approaches the bench. My dad and I already stand in front of it. I hold my arm to my chest, nervous that everyone is looking at me. Because everyone is.

  I try not to glance at Robert. Not wanting to have my earth shattered today with a mental image of
his expression.

  The judge looks to him. “Since the means of Mr. Hale outweigh most, I wanted you here in person. I need to make sure you haven’t been coerced, threatened, or swayed by financial means to give consent.”

  The court reporter’s fingers move quickly, capturing the judge’s words.

  “This is what it’s come to. I’m not surprised.” Robert’s words are a battleax to my heart.

  He did raise me. Before the divorce, before things soured, he raised me.

  “Are you in agreement surrendering your parental rights, Mr. Moore?” the judge asks.

  I glance over at that.

  Wrong move.

  Robert shrugs. This nonchalant, I don’t give a shit shrug. “All along, I think I knew that she wasn’t my kid. It’s not just about looks, but no one in my family needs glasses.”

  It feels like a hole is being chiseled through my chest. I’d have loved going the rest of my life not hearing Robert’s opinion about me.

  But he crosses his arms and keeps going. “She doesn’t act like any kid of mine. She’s practically mute half the time.” I can’t breathe. “She dresses more like a boy than a girl.” Please stop. “She has no friends.”

  Feet clatter behind me, and I glance over to see Lily, Lo, Ryke, Daisy, Connor, Rose, and Garrison all standing to their feet. All silently saying she’s my friend.

  Tears stream down my cheeks. When my eyes land on Daisy, she mouths my one friend and makes a heart with her hands, smiling.

  My best friend. Daisy Calloway. Her friendship is the rare, beautiful kind, and I’m never letting it go.

  My smile matches hers, and I rub my wet face. I notice Lo’s cheekbones sharpening like he’s grinding his teeth. Ryke looks equally pissed. Just when I think they might explode in the courtroom, my dad’s voice cuts in.

  “Can I say something, Your Honor?” He raises his hand. His face is creased with severe, strict lines.

  The judge nods. “Yes.”

  My dad narrows a malicious glare on Robert. The tension in the room seems to amp with that one look, setting ablaze any fake congeniality. “Don’t ever insult my daughter again, you microscopic prick—”