Spoiled

by Gianni Holmes

  “I’m sorry, I was afraid if I called you, I wouldn’t be able to do the right thing.” I mumbled again. “To walk away from you so I didn’t hurt you anymore.”

  “Ashton, I—”

  “Are you fucking somebody else?” I couldn’t bear the thought, and I had to know.

  His eyes widened. “Do you really think that after your disappearing stunt, you have a right to ask me that question?”

  I blinked several times at the tears that clouded my vision. My Daddy Callum with another man, making them feel half the things he made me feel when he kissed me, made love to me, or fucked me hard into the mattress until I could feel him for days.

  “Oh my god,” I sobbed, grabbing my bag and making a mad dash for the stairs. I missed the step entirely and cried out as I hurtled forward. Hands clamped around my waist and hauled me back against a hard body.

  I tried to push him away, didn’t want him to touch me right now in my vulnerability.

  “Let me go!”

  “Ashton!” Callum shoved me back against the wall, a hand planted firmly in my chest. He was breathing hard. “Dammit, Ashton, I’m not fucking anyone else. Didn’t you hear what I said? I was worried sick about you. You think I had time to go chasing after some random ass?”

  I wanted to believe him. I really wanted to. “But…but that guy just brought you home,” I whispered. “He made you laugh. I heard you.”

  “So now you’re upset because someone made me laugh?” He removed his hand from my chest and ran his fingers through his hair. “You’re not making any sense, Ash.”

  “I’m nothing but trouble.” I lowered my eyes. “You said it. Over and over. I made you angry, hurt you, disappointed you, but he made you laugh. You want that.”

  Callum swore beneath his breath, his hand gripping my chin and tilting my head. “I’m so fucked, Ashton. You hear that, boy? You’ve fucked me over good, and I can’t stop thinking about you, even with this immature and crazy shit that you pulled.” He laughed, the sound bitter. “You’re not what I’m looking for in a partner. I need honesty, and I can see that you’re lying to me and keeping secrets. You, Ashton Keyes, are not what I should want, but damn if I don’t want you anyway.”

  With a cry, I flung my arms around him and clung to him. He staggered a little, his entire body taut like a bow poised to go off. A few seconds passed in which I kept clutching him, but he made no move to do the same to me. I clamped my eyes closed, silently begging him to give in, to hold me, but he did nothing. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I begged.

  “Please, Daddy. Don’t give up on me.”

  Slowly his arms rose, his body lost the rigidness, and he enveloped me into a tight embrace. Callum pressed me to him, and I didn’t want to let go. Ever. He grounded me.

  Callum took my bag from me and, without a word, led me inside the apartment. I refused to let him go, afraid if I did, he’d remember all the reasons to be angry at me. All the reasons to throw me out and demand that I stop disrupting his life.

  We ended up on the couch, me settled on his lap, hands clutching the front of his shirt in a tight grip while I buried my face into the crook of his neck. Even then, he said nothing, his hand stroking my back. I wished I was naked so I could feel his touch on my bare skin.

  “Pretty Eyes, calm down.”

  I didn’t even realize how violently I was shaking in Callum’s arms until he spoke. My hands tightened on his shirt for a second. Then I forced my grip to loosen. I didn’t let him go entirely, though. I wasn’t out of the woods yet. He hadn’t turned me away, but Callum would want to talk about things, and I had no words to explain.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said again.

  “I know,” he replied. “I believe you about that. There are other things we need to talk about. Things that put us into this mess in the first place.”

  I pressed my lips to his neck, tasting the saltiness of his skin. “Can’t we talk later?”

  He cupped the back of my head and pulled back so I lost contact with his neck. “No, we’re going to talk now, Ash, because I need to know just exactly what we’re dealing with here. It’s the only way I can try to help you.”

  I sighed, sagging against his chest, relieved that I could avoid his eyes. “Okay, what do you want to know?”

  “Why don’t we start with where you have been and why you’ve been ignoring my calls?”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Callum

  Ashton had gone silent again, his tense body resting against mine. If I could, I would’ve made him talk. I probably could if I tried. It was clear he hated the idea of losing me, but I didn’t want to manipulate him into opening up to me. He wanted me to be a Daddy, and that meant he had to learn to trust me with his darkness as much as he trusted me with the light.

  So I waited patiently for him to get the words out, rubbing his back, even when I didn’t feel like doing it. A huge part of me was hurt that he was okay but hadn’t wanted to talk to me. I should show him the door and wish him a good life.

  I couldn’t do this again.

  But then there was the other part that ached at the pain I’d seen in his eyes when he thought there was more to Dane than the guy bringing me home after my car wouldn’t start. Ashton had made me feel guilty, even though I had no reason to be.

  I had no interest in Dane at all, and once he and I had realized the feelings were mutual, we’d been able to chat. As two people with a possible friendship.

  “Ash?” I jostled him on my lap to prompt him to answer my question.

  “I know about Mario,” he said calmly.

  I frowned at him. “I know. I told you about Mario.”

  “No, I mean, I know about him. That he’s here in Battersea. I saw him.”

  When I’d visited him today, the lady at the front desk had prattled on that it was nice someone else had visited Mario, but I just thought she’d been mistaken. Mario had no family. Now it made sense.

  “How did you find out?”

  He eased back from me, his lips turned down in a pout, but it didn’t seem spoiled and childish this time. He looked hurt.

  “Does it matter? I saw him, and I understand.”

  I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth. “When did you talk to Phil?”

  “Don’t be mad at him,” he pleaded. “He did the right thing by telling me. I don’t think I appreciated what you suffered with Mario and why you were so upset about us. Seeing him, I was able to understand better.”

  “Then why did you stay away?”

  He shook his head. “To spare you. You’ve already been through enough with him. You don’t deserve to deal with me too. You deserve a break, Daddy Callum, because you’re a good person. And I’m not.”

  I swallowed, uncertain of what to say. I’d never expected this conversation. Mario wasn’t a topic I liked to talk about, and I’d already told Ashton all I thought he needed to know. I’d definitely had no plans to inform him that Mario was here in Battersea.

  Our talk had spiraled out of control. I couldn’t concentrate. I was upset with him, but at the same time, I was fuming at Phil for sharing something about me without my permission. On top of that, I was worried that Ashton thought the wrong thing about Mario being here.

  “I swear I don’t know how you twist me up inside like this,” I muttered. “I’m livid with you right now, but all I can think of is reassuring you that Mario is my past and you’re my present.”

  He gave me a small smile. “Sadly, that’s not true, but it’s okay. When I learned about him, I thought I’d be jealous and possessive. I was in the beginning, but then I saw him, and I understood why he has to be a part of your life.”

  “Are you saying that you don’t mind him being here? That I pay his expenses and visit with him every week?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying. You’re a good man. Way better than Mario and I are, and we’re both lucky to have you. We don’t deserve you.”

  He was fucking with my brain. He had to be. The
way he was looking at me with such understanding and love in his eyes was completely unfair. I’d never thought I’d be involved with anyone else ever again. How many men wouldn’t mind that most of my salary went toward taking care of an ex of mine?

  “Daddy, please say something.”

  “What do you want me to say, Ash?”

  “Anything.” He fisted my shirt tighter. “That you’re disappointed in me. That you’ll spank all the bad out of me until I’m good enough for you. I want to be good enough for you. I promise.”

  “Tell me what happened after you visited Mario. Tell me everything.”

  “I just sat with him for about an hour. Then I left. I don’t think he ever noticed I was there, but I didn’t mind. I went home and cried, hating myself for doing this to you. I wanted to go to you so badly, but I convinced myself Phil was right. You deserve better than me.”

  “Then why did you show up tonight?”

  “Because I’m not half the man you are, but you can teach me to be,” he said. “And I find that I’m too selfish to leave you alone. I know I’m fucked-up. I’m addicted to alcohol, and I don’t know if I can fight that, but I know I want you. I want you so much, and I’m willing to do the work to get better.”

  He ran the back of his hand down the side of my face. “Because the truth is that I prefer the version of myself that exists with you more than the one I find at the bottom of a bottle.”

  I closed my eyes, conflicted. Never again. That was what I’d vowed when I finally got out of my situation with Mario. I’d never again be with someone who had a self-destructive streak, but this time it was different.

  Or was I the one trying to make it different? Trying to believe in him as I’d believed in Mario when our problems started happening? It was impossible to think of Ashton and not be consumed with thoughts of Mario and how he had ruined my life.

  But Mario never wanted to change.

  “Do you want to change?”

  “Yes!” he answered, just a little bit too quickly. “I’ll change for you. Do what you say. I don’t want to lose you, Daddy Callum.”

  I placed my hands over his and pried them away from my shirt, but I didn’t let go. “Ash, sweetheart, that’s not what I meant. Do you want to change for you? Do you think you deserve better than moments of your life snatched away when you’re too drunk to remember what you did?”

  He frowned at me. “I don’t understand. What does it matter who I change for as long as I change, right?”

  “No, listen to me, Ash. You have to ultimately change for yourself. You have to want it badly enough to do it for you, baby.”

  “I do want it badly enough.” He wrapped his arms around my neck. “Don’t you get it? I want you badly enough to do anything.”

  He spoke so passionately I would’ve believed him had I not lived this life already with a different boy. Mario’s case had been more severe, but it all started somewhere. Ashton was already engaging in the same behavior of secrecy, lying, and avoidance.

  “You knew the rules.” My heart felt like it was being folded into too many tiny sections, then being forcefully ripped down the middle. “And I decided to give you a chance. We talked about this, planned your first AA meeting, but you bailed on me.”

  Before I could say anything else, Ashton started crying again, and he gripped my neck so tightly his fingernails dug into my skin.

  “I’ll prove it to you,” he swore. “I’ll prove to you that I can stop.”

  I was used to the tears. Whenever I’d threatened to break things off with Mario, he’d used his tears, throwing tantrums and breaking my shit, manipulating me until I’d change my mind about leaving.

  Ashton clung to me, afraid to let me go. I imagined if I tried to get up from the couch in that moment, it wouldn’t have been easy for me.

  “Ash, please stop crying.”

  I shifted to the edge of the sofa and stood. He wrapped his legs around my waist, adamant about holding on. He wasn’t sobbing loudly anymore. Silent tears streamed down his face while he clung to me.

  I didn’t walk to the door. I didn’t set him on his feet outside and close the door in his face like I should do. Instead, I carried him to the bathroom, where I tried to set him down, but he still refused to release me.

  “Ashton, let go.”

  “No! You’re going to kick me out for what I did.”

  “I’m not.”

  He blinked rapidly, calming down. “You’re not?”

  “No.” Now it was my turn to avoid looking at him. I didn’t want him to see all the emotions I’d rather hide. I was already sucked in too deep. There was no way I could let Ashton go.

  “But I hurt you so badly. I ignored your calls and avoided you. And…I want to be honest from now on, Daddy.” He stared up at me, his face white. “I wasn’t going to my classes. I used to sneak away and go to the bar. I’d then go home to sleep it off before I came to you.”

  Could this get any worse? All those nights, sitting up with him doing assignments, wasting the precious hours of sleep, and for nothing.

  I wished I had the strength to deny him, to escort him outside, but that wasn’t really going to happen, was it? I chuckled softly, the sound raw. I was a hypocrite. He wasn’t the only one suffering from an addiction. Like the alcohol seeping into his veins when he drank, Ash was seeped into my skin, permeated into my heart.

  “Daddy?”

  “You lied to me.”

  “I won’t ever again. I promise.”

  But would he keep it? The words of an addict could not be trusted.

  “I’m not going anywhere.” I stared into his face and those wide terror-filled eyes. He was scared of losing me. Just as much as I was scared of losing him. “Now release me so I can clean you up.”

  This time he didn’t argue. He unwrapped his legs from my waist and stood before me at the vanity. I washed his face, then took one of the nice towels he’d brought over to pat his face dry the way I’d seen him do it so many times.

  His eyes were bloodshot, red, and puffy. I hated the way he looked, so uncertain and fragile. The Ashton the world saw was fierce with a bubbly personality that attracted everyone to him. He was a likable guy, but this—this was also a part of him. The part of him that scared the shit out of me.

  It was the same part of him that wouldn’t permit me to let him go, which was fucked-up.

  When I finished patting his face dry, I threw the towel over the rack to dry and kept Ashton turned to me. He chewed on his bottom lip. I tugged on the lip he was abusing.

  “Stop that.”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  All meek and obedient now when we both knew differently. “Tell me what I’m going to punish you for.”

  His breath hitched, and he breathed out slowly, then answered. “For breaking your rule about getting drunk, not responding to you, Daddy, when you called me. I shouldn’t have ignored your calls.”

  “Why?”

  “Because good boys listen to their Daddy.”

  “And you’re a good boy at heart, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t know, but I want to be.”

  “We’re going to have to work on that answer, won’t we, Ashton?”

  “Okay, Daddy.”

  I gave him a few seconds to relax before I continued. “And what do you think your punishment should be?”

  His head snapped up, and from the flush in his cheeks, I knew what he wanted. “The spatula.”

  I nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose you do, but you’re not going to get the spatula tonight, boy. A mischievous boy gets the spatula from Daddy. A boy who’s destroying his body—Daddy’s property—gets to find himself.”

  His eyes squelched together, a furrow forming between his brows. “Uh…okay?”

  “Going forward, you come to me if you’re going through a difficult time,” I said, my voice stern. “If you get the urge to drink, you call me. We can overcome this when you’re honest. Lying to me will only set us back because then I won’
t know how to trust you. I won’t judge you. I only need the truth. Is that clear?”

  His head bobbed up and down. “Yes, Daddy.”

  “Good. If you pull another disappearing stunt, Ashton, make no mistake about it. That will be the end of us. That’s a selfish thing to do, and you had me worrying about your welfare. I want you to get that. I worried about you.”

  His eyes landed on the floor again, and he sniffled, his shoulders shaking. “I promise not to disappear again, Daddy.”

  “And you’ll keep that promise, won’t you?”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  He raised his gaze, and the determined narrowness in their depths made me feel slightly better.

  Maybe I wasn’t as screwed as I thought I was. Maybe I was doing the right thing where Ashton and I were concerned. I couldn’t recall a time when Mario had ever been this receptive and willing to listen to me. He’d pretend to listen, but I’d occasionally catch him rolling his eyes or blatantly ignoring me.

  “For the time being, I need you to let me know wherever you’re going,” I insisted, even though it sounded extreme. “You’ll avoid places that make you want to drink, and you’ll attend AA meetings, get a sponsor, and get better.”

  He took a deep breath then went back to chewing on his bottom lip. “I-I already signed up for my first meeting,” he replied which was a relief. If he was taking action then that was the first step, and it was a big one. For him to admit that he needed help and to seek it.

  “I’m proud of you.”

  “The truth is my mother wants to send me away,” he explained. “At first I didn’t want to tell you because I’m afraid you’ll agree with her, but I don’t want to lie to you anymore.”

  “You’re going to need to explain a bit more than that.”

  “My mother wants to send me out of state to a recovery program. All the way in Texas. I’m not going.”

  “How long?” I ignored the way my heart hurt at the idea of him leaving. We would do whatever was best for him, and if that meant sending him away for a while so he could get the best treatment option then we’d do it.