by CE Ricci
No, no, no.
Fuck Mom, why did you have to get involved now? Why couldn’t you be a goddamn parent years ago when I needed one and told you what was happening with your husband directly under your roof?
Why couldn’t you love me more than your money and vices and take me at my word?
And why the fuck does my therapist have such insight into the behaviors of my mother?
I give her a hard stare. “Who are you? You speak about her as if you know her.”
A grimace mars Erica’s face. “Your mother and I…? We knew each other. Quite well at one point in our lives, until she married Ted and I moved out here. When she found out you were coming to Colorado, she contacted me. Begged me to help you out, if only to give you someone to talk to once she heard your own voice recounting all the things he did to you on those tapes.” She pauses, taking a deep breath. “Once she sent the tapes into the FBI, she called me and told me everything. She wanted to be sure you were okay, but no one had heard from you. The media doesn’t know this, but Ted is missing. He fled Pennsylvania, maybe even the country. We don’t know where he is.”
My brain gets stuck on those last words. We don’t know where he is.
Which means, he could be anywhere.
He could be here.
I clamp my hands behind my head and focus on inhaling deep, steady breaths like my first therapist taught me when panic starts to set in.
And that’s what I’m doing. Full-bown fucking panicking.
The good doctor must notice my agitation rising again, because she watches me carefully as I work through my self-soothing methods. “That’s it, Ciaráin,” Doctor Fulton praises from her seat. “Keep breathing.”
Her words are knives being driven through my eardrums, so I tell her just fucking that, all while counting back from one hundred in my head.
Three times.
And I’m still not calm.
Five more minutes later and I’m still not.
My mind is running in circles, question after question forming before I can even think about how to answer the first.
Where is Ted? What is his next move? Is he going to out me for that night he erased from history like he threatened before I left for college? Does he plan to eliminate me entirely?
Does he know about River?
Fuck, River.
My brain latches onto thoughts of him again, using them as an anchor to hold me steady, keep me grounded.
His aqua eyes and chocolate hair. A sleepy smile, the kind he only gives me first thing in the morning when he wakes up. The weird musical tapping fixation of his I’ve grown to love, even pray to see at least once on the daily so I can ask him what song is in his brain.
Over the past few weeks, I’ve learned I can deduce his thoughts from them like a fun sort of detective game. Because they always give away more than the words he says aloud, and it’s those thoughts I crave more than his body.
That’s a lie. I crave everything about him.
His laugh, his smile. His steady heartbeat under my ear. His lightness seeps into my black soul, giving it life—purpose—for the first time in forever.
He’s the calm in the storm.
And I fucking need him. I won’t let Ted ruin the best thing to ever happen to me.
And Ted can’t know about him. There’s no way. We were stranded in that goddamn cabin away from the world for five weeks. The entire world thinks I’m dead for fuck’s sake. Or kidnapped or whatever.
So he can’t know about River. There’s no way. It’s impossible.
Except I know the power and reach Ted has. When he wants something, he gets it.
Ted wants to rape and molest his underage stepson? Done.
Ted wants to cover up someone’s murder and use it as leverage? Easy peasy.
Ted wants to find something to use against me so this shitstorm blows over? You can bet your ass he will find it. Extort it. Grind it to dust in his efforts to get every inch of an advantage he can before tossing it to the wayside, labeling it as collateral.
And if he found out about River. About the power River holds over me, the lengths I would go to keep him safe?
River would become the perfect bargaining chip to get whatever he wants from me. Only I can’t trust River would make it out of any scenario with Ted alive and well. Not in this case.
That alone tells me what I fear most.
In order to keep River safe, I have to let him go. I have to break off this…thing between us, whatever it is. Honestly, I don’t know how to classify it anymore. What started as a clash of enemies became secret fuck buddies with no labels and an expiration date, then somehow turned into love.
Not puppy love or infatuation. The real fucking deal kind of love. I might have been questioning it when I walked into this office, but now I’m absolutely certain.
What I feel for him is nothing short of head-over-heels, I’d-do-anything-for-you love.
The love you move mountains for. Cross oceans for.
The love you give up to keep that person safe from the psychotic asshole who will take anything you care about and annihilate on a molecular level.
I can’t, I fucking can’t let him do that to River.
Leaving me with only one option to protect him from Ted. The only one that makes sense, at least.
I have to leave him.
Break this off for good, even if doing so will be as if I cut my own heart out of my chest in the process. No matter how much I don’t want to.
A war wages within me at the thought of living for the foreseeable future without River. Seeing him, but not having him. Feeling so strongly for him, but not being able to express it. It causes an ache in my chest so sharp I actually rub the spot above my heart in an effort to soothe the pain.
I can’t do that to him. Cut him out like he meant nothing. Fuck, I can’t do that to myself when he’s become fucking everything to me.
Only a fool cuts the cord to his one lifeline.
But I have to do it; to protect him from being a casualty in a battle that isn’t his to take part in.
I’ll take down Ted, somehow, some way. And I’ll get River back.
Jesus Christ, am I losing my mind right now?
My body quakes with untapped emotions as I sit on Doctor Fulton’s couch, head in my hands, debating my next move. I’d never be able take on Ted on my own, in any way, shape, or form. Not when it comes to this.
The only problem is, the people I know who can help, he has his hand in with them too. My stepfather’s hold over people is limitless, something I’ve known for a long time but seem to just now be realizing.
“Is there someone, anyone, you can call? Who can help you in a time like this?”
Glancing up at her, I see tears welling in her eyes and immediately feel like the biggest dick in the world for assuming she had anything to do with this. I give her a brief nod, even though I don’t know if I have it in me to make the call.
“You can call whoever it is from here, if you’d like. Take as much time as you need, Ciaráin,” she says, grasping one of my hands in both of her warm ones. “The situation you’ve been forced into…” she trails off, shaking her head in dismay. “I feel for you. In all my years in this field, I’ve never had to deal with this situation. I understand if you have no desire to continue sessions. Just know I’m here in whatever capacity you need me to be.”
She leans back when I give her a nod again.
At this point, I don’t think I can open my mouth to speak without some semblance of a scream or wail breaking though. But I have to do something.
Anything, anyone, that could help is better than nothing.
Swallowing my pride, I steel myself for the move I have to make, even though I’m not sure it will do much good. His number could have changed in the last four years since I’ve spoken to him. And if by some miracle he does answer, will he even want to talk to me? To help me?
When did everything get so fucked up?
My hand
still shakes as I pull my phone from my pocket. I stare the name on the screen, a name that has been on my mind more and more as of late.
Sending up a prayer to whatever divine being that might listen, I jam my finger on the call button and wait. It rings once. Twice. Three times.
And the second I hear the click of the line being picked up, the words rushed out of my throat in a choked sob I didn’t realize I was holding back.
“I need you.”
An hour and one agonizing phone call later with someone who’s voice I never thought I’d hear again, I’m pulling back into my apartment, lost in a haze of…nothing.
I feel absolutely fucking nothing.
Numb. Alone.
Defeated.
For once in my miserable life, I’m grateful I’m in therapy. Lord only knows how I would have reacted finding out about Ted, seeing the news, having my life flipped upside down, in any other place than the safety of Doctor Fulton’s office.
Still lost in thought, I don’t even notice my door is unlocked when I walk through it. That being said, I’m startled to find a pacing River in the space between my kitchen and living room, moving back and forth across the vinyl floor fast enough it might ignite under his shoes. I want to ask how the hell he got in my apartment without a key, but I’m too drained to care.
“Abhainn,” I breathe.
He halts on a dime at the sound of the door closing behind me and for a second, we just look at each other, taking in the appearance of the other.
River’s hair is a disheveled mess, like he’s been raking his fingers through it constantly. His eyes are a dark forest being consumed by wildfire, filled with terror, sorrow, and uncapped amounts of rage. He’s a wreck, but I probably don’t look much better with the shit I’ve dealt with over the past couple hours.
Before I’ve had a chance to take off my shoes, set down my keys, or even fucking think, River is on me, pressing me back into the door of my apartment and devouring my lips. His tongue is in my mouth, tangling with my own, needy and desperate, as if we’re both drowning and this is the only way we can figure out how to float.
In my case, that isn’t far off from the truth because goddamn I didn’t even realize how bad I fucking needed this right now.
Needed him.
My hands are in his hair while his are busy clawing at my clothes, attempting to get them on my skin.
“I saw the news,” he murmurs against my lips after he whips my shirt over my head, moving his attention to my belt. I lift his shirt from his body and quickly slip out of my shoes, then my pants and boxers once he pushes them past my hips.
“I don’t want to talk about the fucking news,” I growl, ripping the remainder of his clothes from his body before dropping to my knees in front of him. Not wasting a minute, I take his dick, thick and ready for me, in my hand before running my tongue down the length of it. Lapping at his cock, paying special attention to the head and sensitive underside, I move my hands around to knead his ass cheeks in my palms.
“Fuck, Rain,” he hisses when my tongue makes contact with the underside of his dick before taking him deeper into my mouth, then down my throat.
My finger glides down his crack in a teasing caress before I slip it in further, finding the tight puckered hole that has become my latest addiction.
Fuck, that’s a lie.
He has become my addiction. Even if sex was taken completely out of the equation, I would still want every piece of him for myself.
But realizing more than sex is about to be taken off the table when it comes to him hits me. Everything, friendship included, is about to go up in smoke once this is over, no matter how much my heart aches at the thought.
This is the last time, I tell myself, chanting the phrase over and over as I continue to work River’s cock.
The last time I’ll have him like this. The last time I’ll allow myself to trust another person with my body, my soul.
It’s the last time I can let myself be truly fucking happy.
As much as I don’t want to say goodbye to this man, who has come to mean more to me than my own life, I have to do it. I told myself, over and over again on my way home, each and every reason why I had to distance myself from River with everything coming to light about my…relationship with Senator Ted Anders.
Ted’s hold on me, it’s fucking deep. And I know he will go to any length to make sure he keeps it. I’ve learned firsthand he isn’t above covering up crimes for his own gain.
Even crimes not committed by himself.
So ending this thing with River, I have to do it. If only for his safety.
My mouth moves faster at that thought, tears pricking in my eyes. Whether it’s from his length hitting the back of my throat or the regret and anguish coursing through my veins, I refuse to determine.
“Baby,” he groans, his hips thrusting with each bob of my head on his cock. “Baby, you need to stop.”
I don’t stop.
His words might say that’s what he wants me to do, but his body is telling me the exact opposite. A niggle of guilt taps at my skull, reminding me of that first time in the shower.
No. This is different. It’s not a hate fuck. It’s goodbye.
River grips my hair roughly with both of his hands, and I prepare myself for him to fuck my face in a way that turns me on like no other. But instead of shoving his cock deeper down my throat, he yanks my head up and away from him, effectively releasing himself from my mouth.
“What are you doing?” His brows are drawn, and he looks…almost pissed. “I asked you to stop.”
My brows furrow as I push back to my feet, suddenly aware of the vulnerable position I’m in kneeling before him. “Your body was asking for something completely different. By now, I think I know when to listen to which head.”
River reaches down and yanks his boxers and pants back up his legs, leaving them unbuttoned and unzipped in the most tantalizing way. Panic begins to rise in my throat as his shirt also is thrown back onto his body, leaving his hair a tousled mess atop his head.
Fuck. Is he leaving?
Running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to manage the wild locks, he sighs and leans into me for a kiss. “Baby, I get you’re upset, but I think we do need to talk about it.”
Talk? No. I just need him one last time before I have to be a fucking martyr and give up the one good thing in my life.
My jaw ticks as I reach down and redress in my underwear and jeans. “And I think you need to shut up and let me fuck you.”
A soft chuckle leaves him, oblivious to my rising frustration. “You can’t fuck away your problems. It doesn’t make them nonexistent.”
I let out a low growl from my throat, tension forming in my forehead. “Jesus Christ, you’re not a very good casual fuck if you refuse to put out, Lennox. At this rate, I’ll have better luck getting laid at a fucking convent.”
River steps away, his eyes wide, clearly taken aback by the bitterness of my voice. “What is going on with you? One minute you’re on me like you’re ready to consume my very being and now you’re…” he gestures with his hand, up and down, in my direction,“…this.”
A scoff of disbelief slips out of me before I can even think to stop it. “This is who I am. The real me,” I snarl, jamming my index finger into my chest. “The me you knew in the cabin is long gone now that I have access to a regular supply of pussy on the west side of campus.”
His face contorts into a grimace as disgust flares in his eyes, along with another emotion. Something like hurt, I’d imagine. “Where the fuck do you get off?”
I cross my arms over my chest, cocking my head at him and squinting as if thinking in depth about my answer. “Well if you would have asked me last week, or even yesterday, the answer would have been inside of you. But now?” I shrug with indifference, “I honestly don’t give a fuck where. In fact, maybe I will hit up Sorority Row once you leave here tonight.”
I know it’s not true, but that doesn’t k
eep me from feeling guilt because of those words. His mouth drops open slightly in a way that is almost comical, as he gapes at me. Blinking in rapid succession, attempting to process my vicious retort. Clearing his throat, he shakes his head in disbelief before speaking again. “What is happening right now?” he asks slowly.
“I guess you could say I’m ending whatever this is between us.”
“How can we end things when we’ve never even started?” he rumbles, a menacing tone to his voice. “You’re keeping me at arm’s length, and for what? Don’t you see all I want is to be here for you? You just won’t let me!”
“And don’t you see I don’t give a flying fuck about what you want? I shut everyone out! You’re nothing special!” I roar, my temper finally getting the best of me. I regret the words instantly, because they are the furthest thing from the truth, but I keep digging myself a deeper hole to bury myself in once he walks out of my life for good. “I don’t need you, River. I’m not some fucking pet project you can sit here and try to fix. A broken toy you can put back together, piece by piece.”
“I don’t want a goddamn project,” River shouts as he throws his hands down, his voice booming through my tiny apartment. He swallows roughly and shakes his head before speaking again in a gravel-filled voice. “Jesus Christ, Rain. I just want you.”
My brain screeches to a halt as it processes his declaration.
I just want you.
Never in my life has anyone uttered those words to me, and I didn’t realize until now how much I really needed them. How desperate I was to be desired, not sexually, but in general. As a whole person.
My body ignites in warmth at the recognition that this is what it feels like to be—fuck, loved. But the moment is short lived when the reality of my situation drenches me in despondence like a bucket of ice water, reminding me that River and I…we will never work.
And that thought? The sting of it might as well kill me.
“Well, I don’t want you,” I grind out, the words tasting bitter on my tongue, but I have to swallow down the poison I’m forcing down both our throats. It’s for his own good.
If only he would take my words at face value.