Forever (Destroyed by Love #1)

by Abrianna Denae

  Even though I have her number, I don’t want to do this over the phone. It’s so impersonal. And the favor I’m about to ask is very personal.

  Marley opens the door in a pair of running shorts and a tank top. Her hair is in disarray, and I can’t help but notice that she’s not wearing a bra. What really catches my attention is the fact that she glares at me through beautiful green eyes, not brown.

  “It’s early on a fucking Sunday. This better be good.”

  “I have to ask you something.”

  “You’ve never heard of a phone?” she snaps. “Some people like to actually sleep once in a while.”

  “It’s personal. I thought it would be better in person.”

  “Fine.” She pulls the door open further and waves me in.

  She slams the door shut and then pushes past me, heading toward the kitchen. “Gran is gone, and I’m no Betty Crocker. So if you’re hungry, you’re on your own.”

  “I’m fine, thanks though.”

  She sits at the wooden table, and I sit across from her. Her arms are crossed over her chest; it makes it hard to keep my eyes off her breasts. My attention flips between her boobs and her eyes. Even angry, they’re a brilliant shade of green. I wish I could get closer to her to see if they are one color or a multitude of shades.

  “Well?” She raises an eyebrow, and I take a deep breath. It’s now or never.

  “I turn seventeen tomorrow. I’m skipping school because my lawyer is coming to visit. I didn’t even know I had a lawyer until my birthday last year, but I do. It was a very traumatic experience, to say the least.”

  “I don’t see why this concerns me.”

  “Will you come to the meeting? Please? I don’t think I can handle it alone. Apparently, there’s more he needs to go over. I just, I don’t know, Marley. I know it’s asking a lot. But I’m just tired of doing shit alone.”

  There, I said it. Not only did I ask her for a favor, but I admitted one of my deepest truths.

  “Of course. I’ll be there with you. When and where?”

  “He’s coming to the house. He’ll be there at ten.”

  “Okay.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t, this isn’t something you thank me for. This is something a friend does.”

  Marley

  I’m nervous, and I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because I’m meeting someone Wyatt clearly doesn’t want to see. Or maybe it’s because, for the first time, I purposely didn’t wear my contacts.

  I know he knows that I lied. There was no way he didn’t see the pictures all over the house last week. He’s too observant not to. And I’m well aware of the fact that I wasn’t wearing my contacts yesterday. I was, after all trying to sleep. Not that it did any good. I still don’t sleep much, no matter how long I stay in bed.

  Pulling up to Wyatt’s house, I’m in awe. Not because it’s particularly spectacular or anything. But at how different it is from where I live. It’s all white and glass and modern-the exact opposite of what Gramps and Dad design.

  Gramps designed the house that we live in. It’s made of brick and has a long front porch. It’s Colonial style with modern touches. Wyatt’s house is just modern. It’s cold and impersonal.

  It goes against everything Gramps believes in. Living with him has rubbed off on me apparently.

  When Wyatt opens the door, I’m happy to see that he’s wearing his glasses. Since when did I become happy when it comes to Wyatt and his glasses? This worries me.

  “Come in.” He steps back and holds the door open for me. I notice that he shuts the door far more gently than I shut the door yesterday. I might have overreacted a bit.

  “Mr. Peters isn’t here yet, but he should be soon” Wyatt says as he leads me through the house. I notice that his words echo a bit off the walls. There are no pictures, no artwork, nothing indicating that this is a family home.

  It’s cold. Unlived. Unloved.

  The kitchen is spacious, and the type of kitchen that Gran would drool over. Stainless steel appliances, black marble counter tops, a long bar, a huge window overlooking the backyard with a cherry wood kitchen table nestled underneath.

  Wyatt pours water into a glass and sets it on the table in front of me. We sit in silence for a few moments. But like all the other times, this isn’t awkward or uncomfortable. It’s just silence.

  The doorbell rings, startling us both. “That would be Mr. Peters,” Wyatt says, stating the obvious.

  He rushes off to get the door, and I stare out the window. Even the backyard looks uninviting. You’d think with two kids living here there’d be a play structure or some toys or something. But the large yard looks more like a garden magazine cover, than a family yard.

  “Marley, this is my lawyer, Mr. Peters, Mr. Peters, this is Marley.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Mr. Peters, a short man with more gray than dark brown hair says.

  I smile and stand, reaching my hand out to take his.

  “You’re sure it’s okay to speak freely?” he asks Wyatt after he releases my hand from his clammy one.

  “Yes. Marley is a friend, and I want her here. Say what you need to. I don’t see any reason to delay.”

  “Of course.” Mr. Peters sets his briefcase on the table as Wyatt takes a seat next to me. “In case Wyatt didn’t tell you, I know he’s not one for words. I’ll explain, briefly, before we get started.” He pulls out a stack of papers from his briefcase and sets them on the table.

  “I was hired by Matthew Hensley a year before he separated from Janet Maser. He wanted help setting up a trust for his son. After that, he wanted to write his Will, in which everything would go to his son upon his death. In stages, of course, there is simply too many assets to hand over all at once.

  I was named the beneficiary of course. Matthew didn’t trust his estranged wife at all.

  The first stipulation was to make a third of the original trust available for Wyatt’s use the day he turned sixteen. The second is to explain some of the business assets on Wyatt’s seventeenth birthday.”

  “So you were sitting in the wings for twelve years? Waiting for Wyatt to turn sixteen?”

  “Essentially. I was also in charge of providing the monthly child support for Wyatt.”

  Mr. Peters pushes a few documents toward Wyatt. I can’t help but look at them as well. Holy shit. “That’s just reiterating the amount of money that was made available to you last year. The number under it is what you will receive next year when you turn eighteen. And the last set of numbers is the rest that will be available on your twenty-first birthday,” Mr. Peters says.

  Apparently, the Fallon name means nothing next to Wyatt Hensley’s. If those numbers are correct, and I have no doubt that they are. Then Wyatt is more than just some rich kid. He’s a multi-billionaire at seventeen.

  The rest of the meeting passes by uneventfully. Mr. Peters says a lot of things that I don’t fully understand. He hands Wyatt a report that explains more about the large financial company that he apparently owns, at least partly. Most of the company assets won’t transfer over until he turns twenty-one. But as of now, any major decisions his uncle makes have to go through Mr. Peters, and then Wyatt.

  “I don’t know everything about finance and business. That’s why you also have Marcia Whitfield. She’s the best corporate lawyer I’ve met. She’ll be calling you later this week to set up an appointment. This was also outlined in your father’s Will.

  He was prepared for anything. Though I’m sure he would have wanted to be here with you. To help ease you into all of this, of course that’s why he hired me. I’m to take care of you to the best of my ability.

  Anything you need, call me.” Mr. Peters stares at Wyatt for a moment, then he shifts his gaze to me. “Take care of him, Marley. He’s a special boy.”

  “Yes, he is.” I squeeze Wyatt’s hand under the table. I’m not sure who grabbed who first, but we’ve been holding hands since shortly after Mr. Peters began explaining
things.

  “It was nice to meet you, Marley. Wyatt, I hope to see you soon.” Mr. Peters nods to both of us, then picks up his briefcase. “I’ll let myself out.”

  Wyatt and I sit at the table holding hands until the sound of the front door opening and closing echoes through the house. “Do you see me differently now? Now that you know I’m not some normal rich kid?”

  “You were never normal or just some rich kid in my mind,” I whisper, turning my face toward his. “It changes nothing. You’re still just Wyatt to me.”

  Wyatt turns toward me, and I gasp, his eyes are truly stunning up close. So blue, yet so not, you would think that clear-colored eyes would be impossible. There’s no such thing. But that’s obviously not true. At least for Wyatt.

  Our faces are so close to each other that we’re practically breathing the same air. If I lean forward slightly, our noses will touch. If I lean forward and tilt slightly, I could kiss him.

  The same thought must pass through his mind, because I watch as his eyes flicker down to my mouth, then back to my eyes. I want to kiss him so badly, I didn’t know that until this second, but I do. However, this is his house, his birthday, his choice.

  And he makes the right choice, at least in my mind. He leans forward and brushes his lips across mine, softly, like he’s not sure we should be doing this. And we really shouldn’t be. This goes against everything, but it feels so right.

  He presses his lips to mine, harder, just barely kissing me. Then slowly I part my lips and whisper, “Happy birthday, Wyatt,” against his lips.

  “Thank you,” he whispers. And suddenly we’re kissing. Really kissing.

  When his tongue brushes against mine, I try not to gasp. This is by far the best kiss I’ve ever had. Wyatt snakes an arm around my waist, drawing me closer to him, bringing our mouths tighter together, and I’m not the only one who makes a slight noise of satisfaction.

  His teeth scrape against my bottom lip as he releases me, and I know it was intentional. And I loved it; I want him to do it again and again. Amazingly we’re still holding hands, so with my free one, I wrap it around his neck, threading my fingers through his hair.

  As I lean in to kiss him again, someone says, “Oh.” Wyatt turns around to face the woman standing in the kitchen entryway.

  Her dark hair is pulled back in a ponytail; she’s wearing jeans and a cute floral top. I don’t know why I notice this, but I do. “Mary,” Wyatt says, “What are you doing here?”

  “Well, I was going to the grocery store but realized I left the list here. I came to get it. And I knew you had that appointment with Mr. Peters today, so I wanted to check on you. But I see that you’re taken care of.” This Mary woman smiles at me. “You must be Marley. Wyatt’s told me a bit about you.”

  “Um.” What does one say in this situation? I have no idea who this woman is. She seems to know who I am, though. That’s not what bothers me. What bothers me is the fact that she has a way to get into Wyatt’s house. She is going grocery shopping, she knows about Mr. Peters. I don’t like the way I feel about the thought of Wyatt and Mary.

  “Marley, this is Mary, obviously. She’s the nanny.”

  The nanny? Oh, the nanny. Right. I knew he had a nanny. But I was expecting someone, I don’t know, old?

  “Nice to meet you?” Why that came out as a question, I don’t know. I apparently need to leave. This whole day was a mistake.

  I’m developing feelings I shouldn’t be. I’m supposed to remain unattached, but instead I’m allowing Wyatt to drag me deeper into his world. While I feel honored, because I know he doesn’t share his life with anyone else, I can’t let myself get sucked in.

  Nothing about this is good.

  “It’s nice to meet you too, Marley. Are you having dinner with us later?”

  “Um, no. I have to go actually. I told my grandparents I was sick, so I have to go back home and pretend I’m sick.” Lie. Gran knew what I was going to do today when she called the school for me this morning.

  “Oh okay then. I guess another time. It was nice to finally meet you.” Mary says as she walks to the counter and grabs a slip of paper off it. “I should go to the store. I’ll be back later, Wyatt. I have a few errands to run before then. Call if you need something.”

  “I will,” he says, but he’s not looking at her. He’s focused on me instead.

  “I have to go,” I whisper.

  “Okay, just promise me one thing,” he whispers back.

  “Anything,” I say automatically.

  “Don’t run away from me. Please. Not now.” He squeezes my hand.

  “I won’t.” And I don’t know if I’m lying or not.

  Wyatt releases my waist and stands up, pulling me with him. He draws me close to him, and I let him kiss me one last time.

  ***

  Dad is at the table when I get home. If that’s not déjà vu, then I don’t know what is. He’s holding something in his hand.

  “What’s that?”

  He jumps when I speak. “Oh, Pagan. You scared me, why aren’t you at school? Are you okay?”

  “I felt sick, so they let me come home,” I lie.

  “Do you need something? Maybe I should call your grandmother, she’s at a luncheon, but-”

  “I’m fine. I already spoke to Gran. She’s the one who gave me permission to come home. I just need to rest.”

  “You look tired, you’re working too much.”

  “So are you.”

  “Touché.”

  “Now what is that?”

  “Oh, this?” He motions to the papers he set on the table. “That is the finalization of my divorce.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yep. Divorces in Georgia can be finalized in thirty-one days if they’re uncontested and don’t go to court. I applied shortly after, well you know. And it’s been almost two months. Your mother almost made it drag on longer, she wanted to petition for custody of you.

  Let’s just say your grandmother fixed that quickly.”

  “So it’s done? Just like that?”

  “Just like that,” he affirms.

  I stand up so quickly the chair topples over. “Pagan,” he calls after me, but I pay him no mind.

  I rush to the nearest bathroom and throw up the banana I had this morning.

  I stare at myself in the mirror, and all I can see are my mother’s tear filled green eyes staring back at me. “I hate you,” I scream at my reflection. “I fucking hate you,” I sob.

  For the first time since this whole thing started, I break down and let myself feel.

  Chapter 10

  Wyatt

  I watch as Marley laughs at the Jensen brothers. Twins in their late sixties, both of them are in good shape and look ten years younger than they are. They come in once a week and they seem to be the only people Marley smiles at. The only ones she smiles a real smile at.

  If I thought things were different between us before, now I know they are. Since we kissed on Monday, she’s been avoiding me. As much as she can, that is. She tries not to. I can see her inner struggle. She’s fighting against something.

  I told her not to run from me. I made her promise. But I’m not sure it was such a good idea. I know we probably shouldn’t do this. It’s dangerous. But it’s the only thing I look forward to every day.

  Marley is slowly embedding herself into my life, whether she realizes it or not. I once thought I wanted to keep her out, but my feelings are changing. I’m not sure if I want them to or not.

  “Take a break, Wyatt,” Kenneth says as he passes me. He’s been working extra shifts this past week and a half. Things are really picking up and we now need four people working at all times.

  I pull out my phone when I’m in the break room. No messages, but I send one to Ava anyway. My mother is home with them tonight. I want to make sure they’re all still alive.

  Everything okay?

  Ava: Yep. You don’t need to check in on us.

  Yes, I do. I’ll see you lat
er.

  Sliding the phone back in my pocket, I lean back in my chair. My stomach reminds me that I haven’t eaten anything all day, but there’s nothing I can do about it now. I don’t have any food on me.

  As I try to clear my mind, I can’t help but think about Marley. All my thoughts lead back to her. If I were normal, I’d know what to do. But I’ve never been normal. I’ve never had a girlfriend, much less a girl who is just a friend. I don’t know how to handle this situation.

  I want to confront her, but I’m scared she’ll run.

  “Break’s over,” her voice calls out from the door. Opening my eyes, I realize I must have nodded off. Not embarrassing whatsoever.

  “Thanks. Guess I didn’t sleep enough last night.”

  “You never do.” She says softly.

  I look at her, searching her face as if it can tell me everything I need to know.

  “It’s easy to see in your eyes,” she explains. “Like me, you always have bags under them, like you don’t sleep enough. It’s also in the way you hold yourself. During the day you’re fine, but the later it gets, the more worn down your posture gets.”

  “Yeah well, I have a lot on my plate.”

  “I know, and I don’t want to add to it-”

  “Don’t.” I cut her off. “You could never add to my stress. You-you help me. I have to get back to work, but, go somewhere with me, after?”

  “Yes.”

  I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I don’t know what I would have done if she said no. Not that I have any idea where we’re going. All I know is that we’re going.

  ***

  I follow Marley home so she can drop off her car. I don’t know why, but I just felt the need to drive her.

  We end up at a twenty-four-hour diner and order coffee and pie. It’s almost ten o’clock on a school night, but I don’t sleep much anyway, and from what I’ve learned, neither does Marley.

  We eat in silence, it’s the first time I’ve ever felt uncomfortable in our silence.

  “What’s going on, Marley?”