by C. Lymari
“Go back to sleep, Abbi,” I whispered, and I felt like a dick when she smiled at me trustingly and did as I asked. A part of me wanted to feel guilty for looking for answers, but it wasn’t like I was doing anything wrong.
Was I?
When I pulled into Hayward’s Auto Shop, I was glad it was just Russell who was there and not his father. My pride was already taking a hit. I didn’t need anyone else to know how much Freya’s return was affecting me. Russell was on the computer when I walked in. As if he knew it was me, he spoke without looking up. “I don’t want to be in the middle of it.”
“No offense, but you’ve always been in the middle. That black eye I had for a week sure felt like the middle of it. When we got together, you told me if I broke her heart, you’d snap my neck; that definitely was in the middle.” It wasn’t a smart thing to say because Rusty looked up and gave me a hard look.
“What do you want me to do, Max? Pick sides? Because you know I wouldn’t do that.”
“She’s a fucking whore! She didn’t even show up to your wedding, and yet you want to act as if nothing happened? Are you shitting me right now?” I hated to admit that I had looked for her. My stomach sank with each person who walked in that wasn’t her. I hated her. Everything that went wrong with my life was because of Freya fucking Pratt.
Russell glared at me, but his anger was no match for the rage I had bottled up for the last seven years. “You want to know why she didn’t show at my wedding? I didn’t invite her, and now she’s pissed at me for that. I had a choice to make, you or her, and I chose you.”
Russell’s answer took me back; I dropped into the chair by the waiting area, put my elbows on my knees, and stared at the floor. I could understand why Russell did what he did, and it made me feel a little ashamed. I was a fucking mess back then.
“Has… has she asked about me?” It was physically painful to get the words out. I hated how much I needed to know if she had… How much it mattered to me. I looked up at Russell who was watching me with pity. I got up. That was answer enough. I wasted time and energy on a bitch who tossed me aside when she found something better.
“We’ve been solving our issues. You haven’t exactly been our priority.”
“Honestly, I don’t know why I fucking asked.” A bitter laugh left my lips. “That girl fucking played me. She played me good. I can’t wait for her to leave; it’s what she’s fucking good at.” I let the door close without looking back at him. What Freya did shouldn’t matter; it was seven years ago. I had time to process and take my revenge with every woman I took to bed after her, except it made me feel empty and hollow.
By the time I made it back to my apartment, I had gotten myself under control. Abigail came out wearing a bright melon-colored dress, and I reminded myself why she was it for me. Why out of all the women who came after Freya, Abigail was the one who I would marry. I didn’t let myself think of anything else. I couldn’t, or I feared what would come out.
“You look beautiful.” I handed her the bouquet of roses and watched a smile light up her face.
“You look handsome, but you always do. God, Max, just a few more weeks for our big day. I can’t wait.” Abigail reached over and held my hand with a smile on her face the whole ride over to my brother’s. This was why Abigail and I worked so well. She was calm, collected, and sophisticated—everything I didn’t know I was looking for until one night our paths crossed.
I was on a path to self-destruction the way I went through booze and women. Even my mother knew I was beyond sowing my wild oats.
Everyone in my family knew what was wrong with me, or who it was, but her name was never uttered around me, except in hushed voices when my mother would blame that trashy girl, and I was at a point in my life where I agreed with her.
I was driving back from Superior when I noticed Abigail’s car had broken down just at the town’s entrance. It was a miracle I wasn’t drunk and didn’t have a woman with me already. Abigail wasn’t someone I had thought of since school ended. She’d left town to pursue a degree in communications, and I hadn’t seen her since graduation, but there she was in the middle of the night, car broken down outside of town, and she was the distraction I needed. Or so I thought, because Abigail Newton wasn’t a girl to be anyone’s distraction. Maybe at first it was the chase, and then it was just her and the calm she brought, but it was enough for me. I could see myself spending the rest of my life with her.
“Max, Abigail, I’m glad you’re here.” The smile on Rachael’s face would be believable if it weren’t a little too bright and her eyes weren’t puffy. Abigail turned to give me a look. We both knew she was probably crying all night. I knew I would hear it again today when we left, but my brother and Rachael’s marriage was their business, and I would not meddle. Prescott was who he had always been. Rachael knew what she was marrying when she said I do.
We were already having breakfast when my brother joined us.
“Sorry I’m late. Town business, you know how it goes. I want the elections to be over already. Abigail, you look lovely as always. Brother, you look well.” He gave Rachael a quick peck and sat down. Is that how my life would be? Just a commodity with Abigail? I knew I would never be unfaithful to her, but was love even forever? And why was I thinking like this suddenly?
“I heard Freya Pratt was back in town. Is it true?”
I stopped chewing mid-bite, trying hard not to think of her and all the doubts that girl brought, but my brother had to open his mouth and let the floodgates open.
Why did I ever fall in love with her?
“Who’s Freya?” Rachael asked, probably wondering if it was another woman my brother would cheat on her with. Why word on my brother’s lascivious tendencies hadn’t gotten out yet was a surprise. Or maybe not. People in this town loved the Dunnetts and Newtons. Even when we were wrong, we were right. Money had a way of blinding people.
“No one of importance,” Abigail answered curtly.
Prescott smirked. “You tell yourself that, Abbi, but do you ever ask yourself where you would be right now if Freya hadn’t left town?”
I glared at my brother. The last thing I needed was Abigail asking questions. “That’s enough, Prescott.” My fork made a loud clank when it hit the plate, making the women jump back.
“Sorry, I didn’t know it was a forbidden subject. It’s not like she broke your heart or anything.” The smug smile my brother gave me was more than enough proof he had accomplished what he wanted. Freya may have broken me, but I had put myself back together.
18
Freya
Seventeen years old
One more year of high school. Junior year was a blur, and a lot of it had to do with Max’s decision to get his general education at a community college. His twenty-minute drive was nothing compared to him being a state away. We managed, and I loved it. The problem was his parents didn’t love it. Money wasn’t an issue for the Dunnetts. For them, there was no reason for Max to stay behind; everyone knew he did it for me.
My boy loved me, and I would not lie and say I didn’t occasionally feel like a burden, because I did.
At first, I worried Max would meet someone new and would forget about me. I was a junior in high school, and he was in his first year of college. There would be older girls, girls whom his parents would approve of, and I was a nobody busting my ass at Franny’s, so I could save up money. I knew I couldn’t afford to go to college, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t a hard worker. My summer job with Frank turned into a part-time now that Max was away at college. Rusty was putting in more hours with his dad, so I had free time on my hands. I hadn’t told Max, but since I met him, I took extra classes, trying to get all my credits so I could graduate early. One last year could turn into half a semester, and when he left, if he wanted to, I could go with him. I could get a job, and we could be close.
Contrary to what his family said, I wasn’t in it for his money; that hadn’t even crossed my mind when I met him. In fact, I rare
ly let Max buy me things, unless it was something super important and only because he made me feel guilty for not allowing him to be a good boyfriend. I was just excited it was summer, meaning I would see more of him since school was out.
“Freya, lover boy is waiting already. I told you to leave fifteen minutes ago!” Frankie yelled from the kitchen. “I ain’t paying you overtime, girl!”
Rolling my eyes, I continued to help him clean the tables. Frankie was understaffed today, and I would not leave him to finish on his own. It would take him twice as long. Max could wait. I loved my boy, but I would not leave Frankie high and dry after he gave me a job after some people made a show of not liking me there. And by some people, I mean the Newtons, specifically Abigail Newton
“It’s okay. We’re almost done. Besides, I got to keep that boy on his toes.” I winked at Frankie as I finished my last table.
“Girl, that boy would eat shit if he thought it’d make you happy.” That was gross. I didn’t answer Frankie because I knew he was right.
“Hello, beautiful.” Max grinned at me as soon as he saw me, causing my heart to beat erratically. God, time went by so fast. I still remembered him waiting for me in front of my home at seventeen, but now at nineteen, he took my breath away. Max had grown, and he had muscle in all the right places. He was no longer my boy; he was on his way to being my man. What was I saying? He was my man.
Maximilian Dunnett was mine.
It still felt like a dream thinking about it. I hoped this dream never ended.
“Okay, so where to, baby girl?” Max had one hand on the steering wheel and the other on my lap. I knew what he was doing every time he rubbed my lap. Please, like I didn’t feel his hand creeping higher and higher each time.
Max never pressured me into having sex. It was always on me, when and where and how. He knew sex was a sore subject for me, and it was just another one of those things he did to make me comfortable, to make me feel like I had the power when with only one touch he had me.
“Hmm... we could go to our spot.” That spot being the old water tower where we spent as much time as we possibly could.
“I like the water tower.”
I smirked at him. “I bet you do.”
I liked the water tower too, but for once it would be nice to have something more romantic—more private. It wasn’t for lack of trying, so I couldn’t get mad over that. The Dunnetts had made their dislike for me known.
“Freya, will you come to the dinner my parents are throwing for the Mayor?” As much as I wanted to say no, I never would. Max did so much for me; it was only fair of me to do the same.
That didn’t mean I couldn’t have fun with it.
“I’ll make you a deal.”
His eyes narrowed, knowing I was up to no good. He said I gave him a heart attack every time I pulled a stunt with Rusty, but I knew he secretly loved it.
“Okay, I’m game. Just don’t get mad when I win, baby.”
My grin spread.
“Okay, the rules are simple. You have to drive through Main Street without swerving or crashing.”
Max smiled at me and shook his head. He probably thought I said it as an easy win instead of straight out saying yes to his invitation.
Tsk. My boy didn’t learn.
When we made it to Main Street, I bit my lip to stop my grin from spreading when I undid my seat belt. Max’s head snapped in my direction.
“What are you doing?”
“Baby, you didn’t think I’d make it easy for you, did you?” He looked confused but thrilled. He loved that about me: my wildness.
“Oh, did I mention the best part? No swerving or crashing while my mouth is on you.”
I saw his Adam’s apple wobble, making me giddy with excitement. Rusty and I were older now, which mean we didn’t pull as many stunts. Getting caught now meant getting tried as adults, and that would suck. I had to get my thrills somewhere, right?
“Put your mouth where?” he croaked.
“Why don’t I just show you?” I was already pulling down his zipper. He wasn’t fully erect—not yet. Max’s chest was rising and falling rapidly. It elated me to know I could evoke this emotion in him. He was gripping the steering wheel so hard I was a little afraid it would come right off.
I saw his attention was on me and not on the road. I let him watch me put him in my mouth, knowing how much it drove him crazy when my tongue creeped out to lick his precum. “Eyes on the road, Dunnett.” My voice was a low purr that vibrated along his sex.
He said a string of curse words. Slowly but surely, I swallowed him whole. The first time I put him in my mouth, I was hesitant and nervous. I wasn’t a blow job guru, and all the mean things that got thrown at me through the years kept replaying on repeat.
Not anymore.
I liked how Max tasted. I loved the way he responded to me. The velvety feel of his sex, the saltiness of his arousal, and how whole and complete I felt when I took him. Max got hard for me, he came because of me, and that made me feel powerful. Adding more pressure, I jacked him while I sucked his tip and marveled at the way I made him lose control.
“Fuck, baby, you keep going like this I will not last.” Max grunted when I took him all the way to my throat. I had a gag reflex, but I read in a magazine that if you squeezed your thumb, it made you stop gagging. So far it worked. I liked to take my boy in deep because it drove him wild. His hips started to thrust in my mouth with abandon, and for a second, he didn’t treat me like I was made of porcelain. I loved making him lose control, just like I was now. When I sucked him hard, he threw his head back, forgetting for a second he was driving.
“Fuck,” he said through gritted teeth before he fucked my mouth. His hand came to my nape, lovingly at first. Then he gripped my hair until my scalp tingled, pushing me closer to his cock. “Take it, Freya,” he rasped. And I did, I took it because it wasn’t often, but when my boy lost control, it was so sexy. “You like that, baby, driving me insane.” He kept gripping my hair, and I moaned around his dick. Taking my hand, I squeezed the best I could. I felt him throb, and I knew I had him when he grunted, and his cum filled my mouth.
I was still sucking him when he let out a horrified yell, making my heart speed up.
Both of Max’s hands went under my arm and pulling me to his chest. His arms were like steel around me, caging me in. I was confused to what was going on. I couldn’t see a thing, but I knew Max didn’t have his hands on the steering wheel and that he stomped on the break.
That’s when I felt it—the impact of the car colliding.
Shit. Shit. Shit. This was all my fault. Max’s hands didn’t waver for a second; his hold on me was strong and impenetrable.
“Baby, are you okay? Does anything hurt?” There was a frantic tone in Max’s voice. It felt like minutes had passed, but I knew it was mere seconds. I nodded. I couldn’t talk. My heart felt like it was coming out of my chest, and since I was pressed against him, I knew his was too. Max was just as scared as I was, and it was all my fault. I could have gotten us hurt, all for what? For some thrill? Detective Tim was right, I needed to grow up.
Gently, Max sat me up straight, making sure I was okay, his hands roaming my face, checking for bruises.
“I’m fine.” My voice was a little shaky, but I was fine. I watched as Max subtly fixed his pants before he opened the door. I cursed myself when I saw not what we crashed into but whom. Clark Carson. Damn, I knew how excited he was to get his car; he wouldn’t shut up about it. He didn’t even care he had to drive his little brother around—and we had just crashed into it.
“What the fuck, Dunnett!” he yelled, and I spurred into action, getting out of the car before Clark would try to hit Max. Clark was a hothead; he never really thought about consequences.
What do you know? We had that in common.
“Weren’t you fucking paying attention? You were going ten miles an hour and yet you still fucking hit my car.” Clark was frantic, ready to call the cops, and they would get
here either way since they were down the street.
“It’s my fault,” I said, trying to think of a way to get out of this. “I was mad at Max, and he refused to drop me off. I moved the steering wheel. I’m so sorry.” That was a better excuse than saying I was giving my boyfriend fantastic head and he lost it. Besides, my voice was shaky from the crash, so it wasn’t hard to sell it.
“You’re a crazy bitch, Freya. Look what you did to my car!” Clark’s rage turned from Max to me. One second Clark was spouting shit at me, the next Max had him by the collar of his shirt. I wasn’t the only one who was shocked; Clark was too.
“Never speak to my girl like that,” Max growled. I knew it was totally wrong for me to find it incredibly sexy, but I did. Clark wasn’t happy about it, but he wouldn’t do anything to Max, not when he offered to pay for all the damages.
“Take it to Russell’s. He’ll be expecting you, and, Clark, if I ever hear you say one more nasty thing about my girl, you can say goodbye to your car.” Max was still glaring at Clark who took a step back and wouldn’t meet my eyes. Well, if I didn’t feel guilty before, I certainly did now. Max’s parents already hated me. This would not do me any favors in changing their opinions.
“Baby, come here.” Max pulled me into his arms and kissed my forehead. “You didn’t have to do that. I would have handled it.” He wasn’t happy about it, but I didn’t regret taking the blame; besides, it wasn’t like we could have told the truth.
“I know, but it was my fault anyway.”
“Freya, it wasn’t. Shit happens. Come on, let’s go to the water tower.” I couldn’t help but chuckle. That night, after we swore no more blow jobs down Main Street and after he made love to me on the hood of his car, I swore I would stop being reckless. It was time for me to grow up.
19
Freya
The next day, when I walked into Emma’s coffee, I had the delight of meeting the other kid that helped her out.