A Boy I Used to Love (A St. Skin Novel): a bad boy new adult romance novel

by London Casey

  She was bucking her hips at me, groaning, but I could feel that she was tired. I had kept her up too late and loved her too hard. But I wasn’t done with her just yet.

  Not a chance in hell.

  I slipped my hand around to her lower back and held tight. I then sat up, easing the burden of fucking me off Lacey. We sat there for a few seconds, staring at each other, breathing heavy. She reached up and touched my face, digging her fingers into the scruff on my face.

  “River…oh, fuck, River…”

  “I know, darlin’,” I whispered. “Trust me, I know.”

  The mix of pleasure and romance was sometimes hard to understand. We had both become accustomed to looking over our shoulders for the next wave to hit. But for tonight, it was just us.

  I put Lacey on her back and my hands to the bed. I stared at her beautiful body as I loved her. I thrust deep and slow inside her, feeling every inch within her as she felt every inch of me. She arched her back and groaned. I kissed her breasts, my tongue flicking against her nipples, my teeth teasing her.

  When she came, her back crashed to the bed, and she grabbed the sheets, lifting her hips off the bed for me. I didn’t let up, though. I kept loving her, fucking her, feeling her. The sounds in my bedroom were the best I’d ever heard. Lacey gave me a sense of home that no apartment, house, mansion, or city could ever do. All I needed was her.

  I let that thought ring through my head.

  All I needed was her.

  “River!” she cried out as her back arched again.

  I wrapped my arms tight around her and pulled her tight against me.

  I thrust my body as I kissed her neck and stopped at her ear.

  “I’m right here, darling. And I’m not fucking going anywhere…”

  I kept one earbud in as I listened to music. My right ear was exposed to the beautiful buzz of the needle as it worked fast, depositing ink into the calf of guy named Petey. He was getting a tattoo of two dogs—a Jack Russell and a German Shepard. They were his two dogs when he’d been a kid, and he wanted them on his leg. If it meant a lot to him, it sure as hell meant a lot to me.

  The thing about tattooing was that time had no bearing on it. Time seemed to vanish for me while I worked. And the only time that did pass was when I was with Lacey. I would only stop tattooing to give the person some relief. I let them be the judge as to when to stop, keep going, or make another appointment. As for me, I could just keep going forever.

  Lucky for Petey, this was his second sitting, and I was done.

  I wiped his leg down of the leftover ink, then admired what I had created.

  “Big and small,” I said with a nod.

  “And here’s the thing,” Petey said in a rough voice. “The little one was the bastard. She was the one who would bite, fight, all that. If the doorbell rang, she ran to the door. The big guy would hide under the table or under my bed.”

  I laughed. “That’s pretty funny. No dog now, though?”

  “Nah. Not a good time in my life. But this…” Petey strained so he could see his calf. “This is fucking amazing, River. Your work is…”

  “Thank you,” I said. “Let’s get you patched up and out of here.” I nodded to his fully tattooed arms. “I assume I don’t have to tell you what to do to take care of that.”

  “Yeah, I’m good,” Petey said with a laugh.

  He sat up, and we shook hands. He left some cash on my counter and went out front to pay. I cleaned up my room and stretched my neck and back. He was the last tattoo of the day. I looked at the clock and knew Lacey still had some left in her work day. She was at Axel’s mother’s house. He still hadn’t told the rest of the guys that his mother was dying. Hell, he didn’t even talk to me about it. Lacey mentioned that she feared he was in some kind of denial about it, constantly asking her when his mother was going to get better. I offered to talk to him, but Lacey told me not to do that.

  So I held back.

  I went out to the front of the shop and found Tate and Maddox standing at the window.

  Tate nodded to me. “You did great on that last one, huh?”

  “What?”

  “That guy. He wouldn’t stop talking about you.”

  “There you go, then,” I said. “I’m famous.”

  “Get that shit online,” Maddox said. “I’m telling you, River. You’re missing out.”

  I thought about the line of tattoos I had designed. If I started to put myself out there more on social media like Tate wanted, things could really open up for me. That was the thing about Tate—he didn’t act greedy with any of us. He wanted all of us to get rich and famous.

  “Well, the choice might be made for you, River,” Tate said.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “Got some sniffs about having stuff filmed in the shop. For a documentary series. To explore the art side of tattoos. Help cut out the assumptions that we’re a bunch of unruly people.”

  “Cameras, huh?” I asked.

  “And all the lights and glitz,” Maddox said with a laugh.

  “You know I hate that shit, Tate. What I do is personal.”

  “Your personal life is between the sheets with Lacey,” Tate said. “Here at the shop, it’s about doing more. A lot more. There’s big plans. This isn’t some beach tattoo shop.”

  “Was that a jab at me?” I asked.

  “Hardly,” Tate said. He grabbed my shoulder. “Look at your bank account. Compare it to when you were inking on the beach.” He winked at me.

  My cellphone started to ring, saving me from the pending argument with Tate over me being on camera and plastered over social media.

  “It’s Lacey,” I said, stepping back. “I need to take this.”

  “Tell the little lady we all said hello,” Tate said with a wink.

  I turned and took the call. “I owe you one, darling. Tate was just…”

  I heard Lacey sniffle.

  My blood ran icy-cold.

  I had caught her two times on the balcony of my apartment, smoking a cigarette, crying. When I asked why, she told me the past hurt her. I knew she felt guilty over what happened with that Kyle guy, but there wasn’t a damn thing me or her could do about it.

  I gritted my teeth for a second. I couldn’t get mad at her for sharing her feelings.

  “What is it, darling?”

  She sucked in a shaky breath. “River…”

  “What? Tell me?”

  Of all the things in my mind, I never could have expected her to say what she said.

  “My mother is dead.”

  Lacey

  PRESENT DAY

  From the second the plane touched down, things were all a big blur.

  I wasn’t sure how to accept what was said to me by my parents’ butler, Jerry. Yes, they had a butler. A man who lived with them in his own little quarters, which were basically a converted garage. And he had done everything, including making the phone call that my mother had passed away.

  She had been briefly sick with some kind of liver issue and passed suddenly in her sleep.

  River took charge after I got the news. He scooped me up off his balcony and packed bags for me and him, scheduled the flight, paid for it, and communicated with Jerry when needed.

  The truth?

  I wasn’t sure whether I should have been sad or angry. And that alone made me mad. How could I have not known she was sick? And why hadn’t my father called me? There were a lot more questions that swirled through my head as I walked through the airport, River’s hand in mine, him carrying our bags.

  When we got outside and got blasted with the chilly early spring New York air, I looked at River.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “For what?”

  “For being here. I couldn’t be here without you. I don’t know what to expect. And you know how they felt about you…”

  “We’re not teenagers,” River said. “And I love you, Lacey. Nothing can stop me from loving you and taking care of you.”
r />   River had arranged for a car and everything.

  We got into the car, turned on the GPS, and started our drive.

  I dialed the number Jerry had called me from.

  “Jerry, this is Lacey,” I said.

  “Yes, ma’am, of course.”

  “Please just call me Lacey. I’m not some rich person, okay?”

  “As you wish. What can I help you with?”

  “Are there services being held?”

  “Ma’am…Lacey…your father requested you to come to the residence. That’s what I was told to tell you.”

  “Jerry, that tells me nothing. Is my mother really dead?”

  My throat tightened that I had just asked that question. For all I knew, this could have been my parents pulling a stunt to break me away from River again.

  “Yes, I’m sorry to say it, but yes, she has perished.”

  Perished?

  I cringed.

  I had memories of my parents sitting at the dining room table clipping coupons. And, yeah, even when my father got a better job and made good money, they didn’t act all hoity-toity.

  “Where is my father?”

  “He’s grieving, Miss Lacey,” Jerry said.

  “Why hasn’t he spoken to me?”

  “He said he will speak to you when you arrive.”

  “We should be there in the hour,” I said, ending the call.

  River reached for my hand. He didn’t have to say a word to comfort me. I loved him for that.

  “River?”

  “Yeah, darling?”

  “I’m sorry for whatever happens.”

  “You have nothing to worry about. Whatever is waiting, we’ll get through it together. And if we get there and you decide you don’t want this, then we leave. I just want you to find whatever closure you can get in all this shit from your past.”

  “I just never understood them. How they could be so fake? How they could never experience love?”

  “They had a different kind of love, Lacey. A love for material items. To me, that’s wrong, but to others, it’s what they want. We can’t change people, darlin’. We can only be ourselves.”

  I made a move and put my hand on top of his.

  The world sped by, the seconds and the road pulling me closer to my parents.

  “River?” I asked again.

  “Talk to me, Lacey,” he said.

  I swallowed hard and looked out the window.

  “I don’t have a good feeling about this…at all.”

  And I was right.

  We arrived at the massive house, and Jerry was waiting out front. The sprawling house—more like a mansion—made Tate’s large house look like a garage.

  Jerry was in a fancy suit and stood stoically, almost like he was afraid to move until we addressed him.

  The steps to the house were wide and there was plenty to climb.

  The entire way, River kept a tight lock to my hand. He was constantly reassuring me things would be okay. Even if it was lie, it was a comfort lie. The only kind of lie I would ever accept from River.

  “Miss Lacey,” Jerry said with a weak smile.

  The only thing missing from his attire was a pair of white gloves.

  We shook hands and then he addressed River. “Can I have your name, sir?”

  “Oh, trust me, he knows who I am,” River said.

  “Very well. Miss Lacey, your father would like a word with you.” He glanced at River again. “Alone.”

  I opened my mouth, but River stepped in.

  “Not a chance,” River said. “We’re here together. I’m here to help her. Bad enough nobody contacted her when her mother was ill. Now she missed her passing? I refuse to step away from my love.”

  “Right,” Jerry said. “Very well. This will upset Mr. William, you understand.”

  “I’m used to letting him down,” I said. “Now, can someone please tell me when the services are for my mother?”

  Jerry ignored my question and opened the massive front door. Excuse me, he opened one of two massive doors.

  The inside of the house was something out of a television show. A grand staircase that could be walked up from either the left or right. The middle was wide-open, large foyer with a chandelier hanging high above our heads. To the right, I saw a small room that had a couple chairs and a piano. To the left was a room with a couch, two chairs, a large stone fireplace, and a table that had a tray with a bottle of booze on it. Everything was perfectly designed, perfectly put into place, and I bet most of the rooms in the house were barely used.

  “May I interest you both in a drink?” Jerry asked as he led the way from the foyer down a long hallway.

  The hallway ended where the kitchen began. A kitchen, my mind, that was bigger than my apartment. Everything was marble, stainless steel, white with gold. Just money thrown around like it was nothing.

  “Did you hear me?” Jerry asked.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I don’t want anything.”

  “No thanks,” River said.

  “Well, Mr. William is expecting you, Miss Lacey. He’s in his private office on the east wing of the estate. I can take you there personally. However, I must again advise against Mr. River attending.”

  “You can tell Mr. William he can kiss my…”

  “It’s okay,” I said, putting a hand to River’s arm. “I’ll go alone.”

  “What?”

  I looked up at River. “I have to face him. Face this. Wait here for me?”

  “I’ll wait anywhere you want me to,” River said. He touched my face. He kissed me. “Just walk away when you need to.”

  “I did it before,” I said with a grin. “I can do it again.”

  I broke away from River and left him standing in the kitchen.

  Jerry led the way through hallways, rooms, all the way to another wing of this sprawling house. The thing that struck me the most was that there wasn’t a single picture of my parents anywhere. Certainly no pictures of me. But how could they be in a marriage and have this so-called dream home and not have a single picture of themselves anywhere?

  My heart started to twist as the distance between me and River grew. I hadn’t seen my parents in close to five years. They were phantoms of my memory at that point, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt that my mother was gone.

  Jerry stopped at a large wooden door and stiffened his back. He licked his lips. This guy was actually afraid of my father. So, after all these years, my father finally found someone to boss around that he could actually control. Part of me wished I knew Jerry’s story so I could help him. But the truth? I just wanted to go. I wanted to leave with River and get away from the pain and memory.

  Jerry then looked at me and nodded.

  He lifted his hand and knocked on the door.

  My father sat in a large leather chair. He was holding a glass of whisky. A fire crackled in the fireplace, the flames flickering light against his face. The room was like a massive study. Books were from floor to ceiling with a large desk in the corner of the room. He had aged quite a bit, but I supposed selling your soul to money would do that. He had been a hardworking man, but the second he got a sniff of money, he turned into a greedy one.

  At the same time, he did give me a roof over my head. He had made sure I had clothing, meals, and toys. His decision to rip me away from River and go to New York might have had the best intentions for my becoming a doctor and securing a happy future for myself. I understood all of that. I really did.

  My father turned his head and looked at me. “Lacey.”

  “Dad,” I whispered.

  I sucked in a breath and felt my eyes watering already.

  “Is she really gone?” I whispered, my voice crackling.

  “I’m afraid so,” he said.

  “Why…if she was ill…”

  “Sit, Lacey, please,” he said.

  “I’d rather not…”

  “Please,” he said. He leaned forward and put the glass down. He rubbed his chin. T
he hair on his face had visible gray everywhere. His eyes were saggy and weary. Those were things that money could fix, though. “I know you brought him with you.”

  “River?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes. I brought him.”

  “So, after years of keeping your hand away from the fire, you jump right into it.”

  “I’m not here to talk about River. Or any of my decisions in life. I came to pay my respects to my mother. I want to know when the service is and where. As soon as that’s over, I’m flying back home.”

  “Home?” he asked. “Isn’t this home?”

  “No,” I said. “This is all fake.”

  My father smiled. He shook a finger. “Sometimes I wonder where you got your heart from. That hippie ‘free spirit’ attitude. You love so much and so deeply. You just put it in all the wrong places.”

  I swallowed the words fuck you, and they burned going down.

  “Lacey, sit,” my father said.

  I walked across the large room and sat down. The leather chair was super comfortable. But I pretended to sit stiff and uncomfortable.

  “You look beautiful,” my father said.

  “Thank you. You look old.”

  He grinned. “I am old.”

  “What happened?”

  “She had some stomach pains. I guess she had been having them for a while and ignored them. She just took medicines to make the pain go away. If she’d seen a doctor earlier…” My father shook his head. “That doesn’t matter right now. We were working tirelessly on a new project together. A real estate development venture. It was the closest I ever felt to her, Lacey, after having you. Working side-by-side on a business together. Then she was in the hospital, and doctors were telling us she was having liver failure. I made phone calls and offered money to anyone who had a pulse. But it didn’t matter. There wasn’t enough time. There just wasn’t enough fucking time.”

  My father looked at the fireplace.

  He was genuinely hurt over this.

  “I’m sorry you lost her,” I said. “When is the service?”