by Rachel Leigh
“Right. Ok, Jimmy. This is good. Try and find out who this CEO is. Once I get a name, you get your final payment. Not a minute sooner.”
“Mr. Scott, with all due respect…”
“Cut the Mr. Scott bullshit. I said not a minute sooner.”
With that, I end the call. It won’t be long now. Justice will finally be served. This asshole CEO is going to learn that my mother’s life had no price tag and that his money can’t touch my revenge—even if I have to take it all from him to prove it.
We hit a breaking point. I got the name of the company where the driver works. The driver who hit Mom, took her life, and walked away with blood on his hands. The cherry on top —his daughter was with him. His eleven year, fully competent daughter, who witnessed his destruction. A child who has lived with this secret, knowing that her own father killed someone and never once found it odd that no charges were ever made.
I’ll feel no sympathy when his ass is broke and belittled. His name dragged through the mud, and his family torn apart like mine was. Nothing can bring her back, but her killer will atone for his sins, and anyone else who has been harboring his dirty little secret. I can already taste the sweetness of my revenge on the tip of my tongue.
I brush the distraction aside, temporarily, and head down the well-manicured lawn full of party goers. The weather is damn near perfect tonight. Not a cloud in sight and a clear view of the moon, creating something so breathtaking that even the naked eye can’t pass up a glance. In it, I see hope. If a gas and dust can combine and paint the sky in beauty, then surely two polar opposites like B and I can create something as undeniable.
As long as I have time, I have a window of opportunity. Good things come to those who wait and my view tonight is proof that if something is meant to be, it will be. Like gravity, love is a force too powerful to be interchanged.
I spot B chugging a bottle of something green. Must be some nasty shit because the distaste in her expression is one I haven’t seen before. Her lips puckered up and her eyes squinting as if she’s staring into the sun.
Just as I’m about to catch up to her and her crew, I spot Petra heading in my direction. I don’t know what this girl’s deal is lately, but she’s been putting forth an extra effort to get my attention. It doesn’t matter, though, B’s legs move quicker as she joins my side. “There you are.” She stretches up and plants a kiss on my cheek and turns to Petra. “Oh, hi.” Her voice sweet and loaded with ill intention.
“Jasper, can we finish our conversation from earlier. You still haven’t given me an answer.” Petra flares up a display of flirtation. Girl’s got guts. B could easily take her—she’s a tiny little thing, and I’ve seen B in action. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that again.
“Now's not a good time. I need a beer.” I brush Petra off and grab B’s hand, taking a detour to the keg that sits in a barrel by the massive house. Large speakers placed on each side of the house blast music that expands through acres of property. I don’t understand how these kids aren’t packing a record of MIPs. Then again, cops in this county have been known to play a little dirty and cower at the drop of a few bucks, Officer Dangle is living proof of that.
“What question does she need answered?”
“I don’t know. She asks so many damn questions that I can’t even remember. Homework maybe.” I shrug it off. I could tell her that Petra asked me to hang out tomorrow, but what’s the point, I’m not going. “You’re getting a little tipsy there, bottle sipper.” I swing an arm around her neck and pull her into me. Sour Apple Pucker.
A couple hours in and I’m feeling on top of the world. I’ve got the girl—tonight anyway. I’m looking at a full ride to UCLA—as long as the recruiter is still interested after that ass sucking play in the second quarter. And, best of all, I’m so close to the truth about the accident.
“Hey man, good game tonight.” Knox taps my shoulder. Even though we are not bros. I wouldn’t even call us friends. We are heading toward acquaintances, but even that is pushing it.
“Seriously? Did you see that fumble?” I shake my head. “We played like shit tonight.”
“You win some, you lose some.” He shrugs it off. Easy for him to do, he’s not playing with his future on the line. “Heard the Bruins are interested in you. Are you considering it?”
I slam the rest of my keg beer and gesture Knox to walk and talk while I refill. I pump a couple times, tip the cup and fill. “Considering it? I’d give my left nut for a full ride. UCLA has always been the end game.”
“Sounds like it’s a big possibility.” He pauses, as if he’s struggling to find his next words, “What about you and Blakely? It’s a pretty far drive. Blakely has no intentions of going to school.”
“I don’t even know if there is a me and Blakely. We’re having fun and all, but she doesn’t seem to want much more.”
“Probably for the best. Long distance relationships never work. Especially when…” he trails off.
“When, what?”
“Nothing. It’ll all work out.” He pats my shoulder again and walks off and joins the flock of stumbling Ravens.
I stand at the keg, chugging and refilling, as I begin to think about the future and what Knox said. Long distance relationships never work. B and I aren’t even in a relationship. I don’t even know where all of this is headed, but I hope it’s in that direction. I could see myself with her and I think it could work. Hell, maybe I could convince her to move. Then again, she has her brother who will still be in school and I don’t ever see her leaving him behind. Shit. Is it even worth it to throw myself into something that is likely doomed for failure? I can’t say no one warned me. Seems like the entire town is against B and I being together.
“There you are.” B emerges from the crowd with that same green bottle, only it’s almost empty. “I think I’m a little drunk.” Her head tips to the side with the weight of a bowling ball as her body follows.
I stretch my arm out and catch her just in time. “Damn girl, we just got here.” I grab the bottle from her and finish it off. Handing her my cup of beer, something a little less destructive on her blood alcohol level. “Come on.” I put my arm around her waist and walk her over to a porch swing.
“I don’t wanna sit. I wanna dance.” She attempts to stand up, but her ass falls right back down into the swing.
“Five minutes. Just sit with me.” I pull her into me as her head falls onto my chest.
“Look at us, being nice to each other and shit. Who would have thought?” Her words slurring and her eyes heavy.
“Oh, we’ve been nice to each other alright.” I pull her closer. “And, I knew all along. From the moment I first looked at you. Behind that sass and sexiness, I saw a girl who needed to be held. Understood. Loved.” I look down at her as her eyes stretch up to meet mine.
“And, you think you can do all that? Understand me and love me?” Her vulnerability is as evident as her buzz, and I know that she wouldn’t be having a heart to heart with me if it wasn’t for said buzz. She doesn’t open up easily. She probably won’t even remember any of this tomorrow. And that’s why I say it, because my vulnerability is masked by hers.
“I already do,” I say it, and I mean it.
I didn’t know it was possible to fall for someone this fast. She does something to me that no one else can touch. Something worth fighting for. Something I’m willing to fight for.
She springs up and straightens her back. Staring straight ahead as if she’s waiting for someone to appear and take her away from me and my sappy bullshit words. I should have never said it.
“Say something.”
“I don’t know what to say. Except…” she takes a deep breath, one that feels like minutes but is more like two seconds, “you really shouldn’t.”
With that, she walks away, tossing her cup—my cup, into the grass.
“Fuuuuck.” I shout, planting both of my hands on the seat of the wooden swing.
I stand up and skim my eyes
around the party. It’s as if this whole conversation never happened when I look to the right and see B giggling with her friends, Levi included. Fucking Levi. Maybe I should just forget this ridiculous idea that a girl like that would ever want a guy like me—a poor kid from the poor town. All these kids come from money and will always have money. Her future husband will probably work for her dad at…
Blacksmith Oil.
That’s where I heard that from. The plaque on the wall.
Blacksmith Oil.
Mike Porter, CEO.
My knees buckle. My heart feels weak I fall back into the swing in utter dismay, trying to work through this and find a possible explanation that doesn’t involve B’s dad being the driver who hit and killed Mom.
He wasn’t alone. He had a kid with him. Dangle talked about how the distraught little girl watched your mom... well, ya know.
It can’t be. I continue to watch her. Dancing and laughing, not a care in the world.
“So, the nightmares? What are they?”
“Just a really bad time. I witnessed something as a child that no child should ever have to. An image that I’ve never been able to escape.”
I pull out my phone. Holding my stare to the beautiful girl who I allowed to suck the air out of my lungs, just to keep her own filled. Misunderstood, broken—all this time, she’s been the one setting her own fires.
“Jimmy, find out everything you can about a man named Mike Porter at Blacksmith Oil. I think we’ve found our man.”
I end the call without a response.
She doesn’t want me to love her.
Good.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jasper
At first, I searched for an excuse. There had to be one. There is no way that Blakely was part of this. It was confirmed when Jimmy called me back Saturday morning—Mike Porter, the one and only CEO of Blacksmith Oil, has been for the past seven years.
We were told it was a hit and run. I’ve known all along that was bullshit. Dad kept telling me to let it go, and he thinks I did. Once I turned sixteen, I started digging on my own. When I was able to see the police report, the pictures of Mom’s car were enough proof that whoever hit her, did not run. They likely spent days in the hospital recovering. Her accident never hit the news. It’s like it never happened. They cleaned up the mess, we had a funeral, and everyone, including the cops, moved on with their lives—everyone except me and Mom.
I never even said anything to Blakely. I grabbed Marco and got the hell out of there. We ended up at Petra’s house, which was a fucking terrible idea. I drank until my eyes closed and didn’t open them until I was losing my stomach on her bedroom floor. Nothing happened, at least I don’t think anything happened. I know I led her on, though, and she’s been calling me all weekend—her and Blakely both.
I had a plan. Find out who the driver was, make their lives miserable by taking everything that they love, and sitting back while their life crumbles. I struggled with that or having them put behind bars, but why? So, he can buy his way out? Maybe serve a year or two and then continue on with his high profile life. No! That’s not penance. I have it all in the palm of my hands, so why haven’t I done anything about it?
“Jasper” Dad knocks on the door, “open up.”
I roll over to face the white wall that my bed is pressed against. “I’m sleeping.”
“If you were sleeping then you wouldn’t be talking to me right now. Unlock the door.”
I let out a groan, loud enough to be sure that he heard it. “That’s because you keep waking me up.” The intonation in my voice growing with each word. This is the third time he’s been up here, and I knew, eventually, I would have to drag my ass out of bed. I toss the blanket at the wall and adjust my boxers, before opening the door. I unlock it and open it up for him then return to the bed with my head hung back.
“You feeling ok? You haven’t left your room all weekend.”
“Fine, Dad.” I drop down onto the bed with my hands tucked behind my head. “Just tired.”
I should have known that response wouldn’t satisfy him. It’s Dad, after all. He lives for the opportunity to have a father-son chat. I should be grateful that he listens, but this is one of those times that I don’t plan to talk. Not yet.
“You and Knox seem to be getting along better. Thank you for that.” He takes a seat at the foot of my bed, pulling his leg under the other, getting way too comfortable.
I close my eyes and shrug. “Guess so.”
“Val is cooking a nice Sunday dinner tonight. It would be nice if you could join us.”
A nice home cooked meal sounds pretty good right about now. As long as it isn’t that awful casserole we had last week. I can’t stomach that shit again. Although, I haven’t eaten in over twenty-four hours, and I’d probably choke it down, regardless.
“Text me when it's ready.”
“Text? You kids and your phones. I’m not texting you when you’re in the same house as me, who does that? Be down there at six o’clock.” He nudges my leg. “Oh, and take a shower. You look like shit.”
I smile with my eyes still closed. “Thanks, Dad.” My gratitude is loaded with sarcasm. Just as he turns to walk away, I open them and I see him smiling back. If this move has done anything good, it’s that.
When the door closes, I don’t bother getting up to lock it again. Dad is right, I really should shower and shave. I thumb the stubble on my chin before getting up and gathering some clothes.
When I walk down the hall to the shared bathroom, I hear voices coming from downstairs. Giggles, small talk, and the sound of pots and pans—happy people, exactly what I want to avoid, but exactly what I have to deal with tonight.
I make the shower extra hot, hoping to sweat out some of this unwanted stress. I watch as the water falls off my skin, dripping onto the bottom of the tub and rolling down the drain. Hoping it will take some of this pain with it, only nothing can take away what I’m feeling right now. The first day, I felt numb—in shock and in denial. The second day, I felt anger. A rage building inside of me that felt as if my insides would combust. Today, I feel hurt—blindsided and alone. I have this bucket of secrets that I have tried to dig up for so long. I have no idea who I should dump them on first. Once it all comes out, no one will ever be the same. The Porters will get what they deserve, but other people will get destroyed in the process, and that’s what makes this decision that much more difficult.
She had to fucking ruin everything. I felt something for this girl. She was like a shooting star that I wanted to pocket and keep. But, like the stars, she’s unattainable. I could take her. Ruin her life the way they ruined mine. I could keep her at arm's reach and make her life miserable. Everything I thought I felt feels like a distant memory that I try so hard to reach, but it’s too late. It’s gone.
I turn the shower handle and grab a towel before stepping out onto the bath rug, pulling the shower curtain closed behind me. I run the towel over my head and then use it to wipe off the steamed up mirror. Just as I see my reflection, the door opens and closes. A moment later, I’m staring back at Blakely’s face next to mine.
My heart picks up pace as my shallow breaths try to catch up. The mirror begins to fog over again, and I’m not sure if it’s from my forced breaths or the lingering steam that continues to escape from behind the shower curtain.
“What the hell are you doing here, Blakely?” My tone indifferent. I continue to face the mirror, only seeing the outline of her face and her pouty lips.
“You won’t answer my calls, my texts. It’s like you just dropped off the face of the earth.” She pauses, as if she’s had an epiphany of some sort. “You never call me Blakely. You always call me B.” Her voice raspy. “I think you owe me an explanation.”
My head twists, and I grit my teeth on impulse.
She thinks I fucking owe her something.
Pain suddenly a thing of the past as the rage returns.
I turn around and she backs up when she
glances down at my soft cock. I step forward filling the empty space between us. My skin burning with desire to break this girl. To bend her over this sink and fuck the lies right out of her. To pull her hair and have her confess her sins out loud.
I take a step forward, my expression cold. She crosses her arms over her chest and continues to look at me like she’s waiting for me to give her something. “What’s with you lately, Jasper? I thought things were good and now this.” She throws her arms up.
“Things changed.” I turn again, grabbing my towel off the vanity, and press my face into it. Wanting to bite the cotton fabric before I say something that I’ll regret.
“Nothing changed.” Her hands run down my arms as she stands behind me. As angry as I am with Blakely, one sweep of her touch can turn me soft to rock hard in the blink of an eye. I feel her face inching closer by the sound of her heady breaths. Her mouth presses against my shoulder blade, and I instinctively tilt my head back into her.
“You don’t get to tell me you love me and then ignore me. I don’t like being ignored,” she mutters into my damp skin.
I turn around in one quick motion. My hands gripping her ass beneath her red dress—my dick pressed firmly against her. I tilt my head and whisper with intent, “I never said I love you.”
I lift my head and look into her eyes, begging to see her pain and confusion, “You said…”
I stop her before she can even replay that night. I slam my mouth aggressively into hers. Her hands fixed on the back of my head, pulling me in even more.
She wants me. She can have me. But, I’m taking something in return.
She jumps up as I lift her, pulling her into me and feeling the warmth of her legs wrap around my cold skin. Our lips still cemented together like two pieces of disproportioned metal. Intact, but not unfusable. I can stop this right now if I wanted. I have willpower.
I don’t stop. Instead, I prop her on the sink as her legs suspend at my sides.