HAYDEN
Book Four
Copyright ©
Copyrights reserved
2020
Lisa Helen Gray
Edited by Stephanie Farrant at Farrant Editing
Cover Design by Cassy Roop at Pink Ink Designs
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are all products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses or establishments is purely coincidental.
CONTENTS PAGE
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
EPILOGUE
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Other books by Lisa Helen Gray
PROLOGUE
Men!
Time and time again I’ve gone through the same crap with the opposite sex. Mostly with the men I’ve dated. I don’t know why I bother. If I were more attracted to females, I’d be putting all my efforts there.
I’d probably get more orgasms too.
Russell, my current boyfriend of two months, is hit or miss. And not just in bed. He’s good looking with a bit of roughness to him, just the way I like it, but he has his flaws. In fact, he has a lot of them. The only reason I’ve put up with the wanker this long is because I don’t want to prove that my exes were right when they said I self-sabotage my relationships.
Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t.
What I do know is that I’m not this person. I don’t let anyone walk over me.
Tonight is New Year’s Eve, and Russell and I were meant to be spending it together at a new club that opened in town. It’s cold, and I’m wearing a black shimmery dress that drops just below the globes of my arse. It’s girly, along with the underwear I spent a fortune on to give Russell a show later tonight; a last ditch-effort to save our relationship.
I’m glad I didn’t let Hope talk me into wearing stilettos. Instead, I opted for my black ankle boots, giving me comfort and a rocking look.
Twenty minutes I waited outside the club, which was ten minutes longer than I would have given any other guy. This isn’t the first time Russell has cancelled on me, but at least with all those other times, he had the decency to text or call. I haven’t heard a peep from him tonight, so unless he’s dying, I’m going to kill him.
Fuck trying to prove others wrong, and fuck Russell. No one treats me this way and gets away it.
With that revelation in mind, I head to the door, anger simmering inside of me.
My frozen finger hovers over the call button to his flat, ready to push his number, when a guy who looks to be in his mid-fifties pushes open the door. Smiling at me, his teeth rotten and yellow, he says in a gentle voice, “Go on in, out of the cold, little one.”
I wink, sliding past him as he holds the door open. “It’s the small ones you have to watch out for.”
He laughs. “Yep. My wife would tear me a new one if I ever stepped out of line. She was small, but fierce.”
“Happy New Year,” I tell him, waving goodbye.
“Happy New Year,” he calls after me.
The door shuts, blocking the cold breeze and no doubt saving my legs from turning blue. I make my way across the foyer and push the button to call the lift.
There’s a buzz echoing from a light flickering down the hallway, yells and screams coming from adults and children in rooms above. I grimace when I hear doors being slammed and smell the foul odour surrounding the short entrance.
I’d never be able to live in a flat. The noise alone would make me commit murder. It just seems to echo, making the infuriating sounds so much worse.
When the doors open, I step into the lift and press the button for the sixth floor, before crossing my arms over my chest. The lift jolts as it ascends, and I wince, wishing I could have taken the stairs. But during my second visit to this charming building, I learned that they are far riskier. Crackheads sleep on the stairs, along with the homeless, trying to keep warm. Some are okay, but others need to learn when to leave another person alone.
Yet it was the bad odour that made me regret taking them. It’s what I imagine a garbage dump smells like.
I scan the tiny space of the lift, cringing at the smell that is no doubt coming from the yellow liquid puddled in the corner. It’s covered in graffiti, and even though it has a camera in the corner, my guess is, it doesn’t work.
It’s nothing like my brother Landon’s old flat, which is upscale, warm and inviting. This place seems like it was built with no care and is now forgotten to those who are meant to keep up with the maintenance.
But here is all Russell can afford on the hours he gets at work.
And since he’s the first guy I’ve dated that has a job and doesn’t live with his parents, I don’t mind where he lives. It isn’t like I can take them home with me. I wouldn’t put it past my dad to have cameras on the front and back door, ready to defend my ‘innocence’. My dad would slaughter him and hum a tune whilst doing it.
Getting off on his floor, I head over to his door, not bothering to knock. He leaves it unlocked when he’s home, so when the handle tilts down, my question of whether he’s in or not is answered.
Anger sears through me and my pulse slams against my neck when the distinct sound of fucking echoes throughout the flat.
I can handle a lot of stuff when it comes to men. I can pay for my own food, open my own doors, buy my own shit and even pick them up if need be. I can even tolerate bad manners, to an extent. But the things I can’t handle in any relationship are uncleanliness, lying, and fucking cheating.
Instead of leaving, I carry on down the hall and past the bedroom, where there’s a distinct sound of skin slapping and loud moans coming from inside. I’m just about to pass the bathroom when I come to a skidding stop, pausing just outside the door when an idea hits me.
An evil grin spreads across my face as I step inside the small room. I was going to change his hair gel to glue,
but I’m under a time limit and I’ve got no clue if he even has any glue. The toothbrush calls to me, so I grab it and scrub the grime from the toilet before dipping it into the stained yellow water, then wash the bits off that get stuck to it. The toilet was the one thing I made him clean before I even came over. I haven’t been around for a week, so it’s disgusting. I guess he wasn’t planning on us coming back together tonight, even after I cancelled on my cousin’s party.
Next, I head to the cupboard that holds the boiler. After years of watching my uncles fix stuff, I’ve learned how that stuff gets broken, especially with two triplet brothers. I turn the hot water tap off before completely breaking it, cringing when it makes a loud clink. I pause, waiting for any signs they heard me, but the sex marathon continues, fuelling my anger.
The girl he’s fucking gets louder, and all I can do is grit my teeth and roll my eyes.
“Bitch, he ain’t that good,” I mutter, helping myself to some eggs, flour and tomato sauce. I grab the mop bucket, which is full of dirty water, and start making my concoction. Maddox had fun with this one as a kid, though he never used dirty water. Once it’s all in there, I look through the cupboards, cringing when I find the stale bread. I throw that in there too before finding a few other items, including bolognaise sauce, brown sauce, and some kind of jelly—though when I open the sealed bag, I don’t think that’s what it is. I tilt my head into my shoulder, covering my nose as I try to get myself under control and stop gagging.
Looking around the small kitchen, the fridge catches my attention. I grin at hitting the jackpot and do a quick dance before yanking the door open.
Everything is for the taking, and it’s gross as fuck.
Milk weeks past it’s expiry date and a few tubs of already made foods fill the shelves. Perfect for what I have in mind. I quickly set on pouring it all into the bucket, turning when the foul odour gets stronger.
Breathing through my mouth, I lift the bucket and head out of the kitchen, my body locking when I see the string of underwear and clothes strewn across the room. I block it out, heading towards the sound of them fucking.
I lift my leg and kick open the bedroom door, before stepping inside. I try to veil the simmering anger, but it’s no use. The second I step inside, the sight alone has fury thundering through me. He actually thought he would get away with this.
The globes of his pale arse bounce up and down like a jockey on coke. Whenever he got that excited with me, it diminished my arousal. It’s a shame because he’s a good-looking bloke and has the right goods down below. He just needs to learn how to use it. Which is why I always demanded to be on top. I could control his movements then.
The girl squeals, begging for more, and I cringe at the desperation. I guess she’ll fake it till she makes it.
Neither have noticed me, or felt the anger swirling around the room, which gives me time to walk closer to the bed.
“Honey,” I call out in a sickly-sweet voice.
Russell squeals, jumping away from the girl and turning to me, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. “Don’t tell your family. It was an accident,” he rushes out, holding his hands together in prayer.
I inwardly snort. Like it’s my family he has to worry about right now. The one he should be worried about is standing right in front of him.
But again, he underestimates me and what I’m willing to put up with.
“Get out!” the girl squeals, failing to cover herself.
It takes me a few moments to realise where I know her from. She’s the slag that moved in across the hallway a few weeks ago and had no problems flaunting her body.
I narrow my eyes on Russell. “No, falling down a set of stairs is an accident. Cheating is a choice.”
“We can work this out,” he pleads, sitting up, his floppy dick hanging low.
Yeah, I have too much self-preservation and dignity to ever fall for that crap.
“Happy New Year, you wanker,” I sing, before throwing the concoction all over them both, exploding into laughter when something thick and brown runs down his forehead, over his nose, and into his mouth. His scream is cut off when he begins to choke on the mysterious substance.
I mentally clap myself on the back as the two try to scramble off the bed. To further my revenge, I hold my phone up, snapping a picture. Luckily, the indecent parts are covered in either crap, soggy bread, or the blanket, so I won’t need to black anything out.
Clicking on the Facebook app, I quickly find Russell’s Facebook page and post the picture, with the caption, ‘When you not only discover your ex cheating, but find out it’s because he’s into the sick stuff. Russell, I hope she can give you all your sick desires’. #WhenHeTakesCheatingToAnotherLevel #GladItWasn’tMeHeShatOn
Grinning, I put my phone back in my bag and turn to leave, but the bat resting next to the bedroom door calls to me.
Screams really.
And my dad always said never to let anyone take advantage of me. It would be wrong to not listen to him.
I shrug, ignoring my mum’s inner voice telling me to calm down, and swing the bat over my shoulder. I pass Russell and Blondie, who are struggling to get untangled from the sheets.
Huh, they weren’t that tangled before.
“My eyes burn!” he screams, swiping thick goo out of his eyes as he tries to get out of the bed.
“Your dick just poked me in the eye! Stop moving!”
“Fuck! What went up my arse?” he squeals, and the high pitch of it has me cringing.
And gagging. The smell is horrendous.
A huge sigh escapes me as I tune out the fighting going on behind me. Bringing the bat up higher, I swing it down, smashing the fifty-two-inch television in the centre, shattering the screen. His Xbox is next, and oddly, I feel more satisfied destroying the love of his life than I do throwing a bucket of random crap on him.
“Oh my God, did you just vomit on me?” he growls.
As I turn to leave, laughter spills out of me as I watch the girl struggling to hold it in before throwing up all over his crotch.
“Are you getting hard?” she screeches, pushing him away from her.
Stepping out of the room, I head for the front door, but her bag on the floor stops me. I look behind me to the bedroom, hearing them still yelling at each other.
She deserves it, Hayden. She slept with a guy she knew was taken.
With that thought, I bend down, searching through the suitcase she calls a bag.
“Gotcha,” I cheer when my fingers clasp around the cold metal of a key, before dashing out the door.
I only wish I could be here when they realise they don’t have hot water to wash all that crap off. And they won’t be using hers for a while.
Still laughing, I make sure to shut the front door behind me. Whistling the Game of Thrones theme tune, I head over to the lift and press the button to go down.
Hopefully I’ll still be able to make it to Faith’s party.
A woman with two kids steps out of the lift, her eyes widening when she hears the expletives coming from Russell’s flat.
I twist my lips as I pretend to wince. “It’s shocking, isn’t it?”
She nods, still open-mouthed as she ushers her kids away. The lift hums as it descends.
It’s only then that I realise I’m not upset about him cheating. In fact, it gave me the perfect out. Because no matter how many men say it’s girls who get emotional during a break up, I’ve only ever encountered men who do. They beg, get clingy, call you constantly, or threaten to sleep with your sister, one you don’t even have. It’s ridiculous. And if I hadn’t caught him tonight, I can only imagine what he would have gone on to do.
I tried to make it work between us, yet that spark just wasn’t there. I’m young, however I want more than meaningless encounters with the men I’ve dated. And then there’s my overbearing dad to take into account. Russell was that dimpy at times, my dad’s insults would have flown way over his head.
As I push through the doors
leading outside, I lose the keys, throwing them in the bin just outside the door.
Cold licks at my face and bare skin and creeps under my clothes, causing me to shiver.
It’s then that I hate myself for not bringing a jacket. I had hoped to spend the night inside a hot, sweaty club. Not outside where I could get frostbite.
Annoyance flares through me when my phone begins to ring and vibrate. If it’s Russell calling to try and—
Seeing my dad’s name flash across the screen, I groan. However, it’s still better than listening to Russell cry.
If he’s calling me about those damn mini muffins, I’m going to lose it. He can’t prove it was me who ate them. And it’s been a week. He really needs to get over it.
I answer. “Dad?”
“Hey, Hay,” he greets.
“Har, har,” I mutter, rolling my eyes.
“Hey, sweetie,” Mum calls over the phone. I hear cars in the background, so they must have me on the car speaker.
“Hey, Mum.”
“Um, I know you had plans with your friends tonight, but we need all the family tonight. Would they mind if you cancelled?”
“Um, yeah, I can. They won’t mind at all,” I tell her, my voice hard at the end when I think of Russell.
“What aren’t you telling me, woman?” Dad screeches, and I wince, pulling the phone away from my ear.
“Nothing. Will you just drive, already?”
“Liar,” he accuses. “Where do you want picking up from? I’m coming to get you,” Dad explains, talking to me now.
I sigh, looking up at the block of flats, knowing I won’t be able to talk my way out of it. “I’m not out with girlfriends.”
“Where are you?” he asks, his voice calm, stern. It’s his ‘I mean business’ voice.
I suck in my bottom lip. “I’m at the Duncan Fall flats. I was going out with my boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend?” he explodes, and I roll my eyes at his dramatics.
“Not anymore,” I rush out before he goes into one of his rants. All I bloody need is for him to give me a sex education lesson again. The first time was horrifying enough.
Hayden (A Next Generation Carter Brother Novel Book 4) Page 1