Forever (Destroyed by Love #1)

by Abrianna Denae

  With silence I can read him, I can understand who he is and why he is silent. With words, I have to see things I don’t want to see. Like the way he looks at me when he talks, like I’m the only thing he ever wants to look at.

  The way he’s always touching some part of me as he speaks, as if that will make the words mean more.

  There’s so much I notice about Wyatt. So many things I never wanted to know. He’s turning me into someone I didn’t know I could be. Slowly he’s opening me up to the possibility of more.

  And I’m trying my hardest to be okay with that.

  ***

  Wyatt wastes no time pulling the bike out of the garage. “What is it?” I ask. I’m completely oblivious to these types of things, but it looks expensive and a lot more complex than a Harley.

  “Suzuki Hayabusa. It’s the fastest one they had at the dealership, and well, I like to go fast.”

  “So you said.”

  “You should change your shoes. It’d be more comfortable for you.”

  “Yeah well I don’t have any other ones.” I cross my arms over my chest. Like the guy he is, Wyatt zones in on my boobs for a second.

  “I can fix that. What size do you wear?”

  “Eight,” I say, not knowing where he’s going with this.

  “Perfect.” Wyatt smiles that stupid smile and disappears into the garage. I hear the door open and close, and I’m standing out here in his driveway. Alone.

  Asshole.

  A good five minutes later he comes walking back out with a shoebox and a pair of socks.

  “Never even been worn,” he tells me handing over the box. Inside is a pair of black Nike shoes.

  “I’m not wearing your mother’s shoes.”

  “They’re brand new, and I wore your father’s underwear.”

  “I hate you,” I say snatching the socks out of his hand.

  “No you don’t,” is his smug reply.

  “If I didn’t want to ride on your cool-looking motorcycle I’d be protesting more,” I tell him as I hop on one foot trying to put the sock on.

  “If you say so.”

  “You’re such an ass.”

  “So you tell me.”

  I don’t reply. I just put the stupid shoe on and then start on my other foot. I wish I had a rubber band. It’s starting to warm up, the humidity is making my hair go everywhere. Fucking curly hair.

  “Now what?” I ask. Wyatt stares at me for a few more seconds. He’s had this annoying little grin on his mouth the entire time I was putting the damn shoes on.

  “Make sure you mount and dismount from the left side, and only after I tell you it’s okay to. Don’t want to accidently run over your leg or something. There are handles on either side; they’re far back, almost behind you. It might be an awkward angle at first. Make sure you sit up and keep your feet planted firmly on the pegs. If you’re uncomfortable with that, you can always hold onto me.

  Just make sure you don’t kill me.” He shoots me another little grin. I want to hit him so badly.

  “I’ll try to ride as smoothly as possible, but I’ve never taken a passenger before. I mean I’ve felt you up, I’ve seen you half naked and I slept with you in my bed, so I know you don’t weigh a lot. But like I said, I like to go fast. This is going to be a learning experience for both of us.”

  I can’t even reply to that. Sometimes the shit he says amazes me. It’s either deeply heartfelt and emotional, or it’s totally guyish. I don’t know which I prefer.

  “Here.” Wyatt thrusts my helmet at me. “Put it on like Terrence showed you. I’ll help if necessary.

  I manage to put the helmet on and flip the visor up with little trouble. Wyatt grabs my hand and leads me over to the bike. “I’ll get on first. You just copy me when I give the go-ahead.”

  I watch as he mounts and starts the bike. The rumble of the engine, the power I can feel wafting off it should intimidate me, but doesn’t. I’d rather take on the motorcycle than its rider.

  “Okay,” Wyatt says, giving me a thumb up.

  I climb on and slide my arms around his waist. No way do I trust myself to hang on to the bike itself.

  With one hand, Wyatt squeezes both of mine. They’re resting just below his stomach. Not too far from the waistband of his jeans. Not that I’ll take advantage of him. I don’t want to die.

  He readjusts his grip on the handlebars, does something, I’m not entirely sure what since I can’t see and I know nothing about riding, and then suddenly we’re moving.

  Wyatt takes off from the driveway at what I would guess is a good pace. I hold on a little tighter when he speeds up. Within minutes we’re out of the town limits and heading toward the back roads. The same ones we met on.

  I say that because before that fateful day we didn’t want to be around each other. Hell, I didn’t want to be around him even after that day, and I don’t think he did either. Things changed so much. I wish I knew how.

  Sometimes it seems my life is on fast forward and I’m trying my hardest to catch up but can’t. It hurts. A lot.

  I just want time to slow down so I can actually enjoy life once in a while.

  Wyatt takes a corner way too fast, and reality comes crashing back. I feel the sensation of falling as we turn, I make sure to lean with him so we don’t go crashing to our deaths. As we straighten out, and the bike stabilizes on the road beneath us, I see why he likes it.

  The thrill, the danger, that single moment where you know too much or too little could mean the end. I would never peg Wyatt as a reckless person. He’s much too cautious for that. But he is still human. He still has the need to feel alive. I can respect that.

  We slow down and finally come to a stop. “Dismount,” Wyatt says, touching my locked hands that are pressing firmly against his abdomen.

  I unlock my fingers, which are cramped from holding onto him so tightly. Slowly I swing my leg over and stand to the side as Wyatt turns the bike off and dismounts himself.

  We flip our visors up at the same time and smile at each other.

  “Well?” He prompts.

  “Oh my God. I loved it. I freaked out a little when you took that last corner, but it was awesome. The feeling of freedom, the slight recklessness to it, everything was just what I imagined but more.”

  “I knew you would. I’m glad.”

  “Can I try?” I ask.

  “I’m mostly self-taught,” he says. “I don’t want you do get hurt.”

  “I won’t. Please?”

  “Why am I even trying to say no?” He sighs.

  The fingers on his right hand drum on his thigh. The nervous habit amuses me.

  “Fine. But you have to take it easy.”

  Wyatt has me sit on the bike, his hands holding mine, showing me everything from the clutch to the foot brake. When he’s sure I have everything down he lets me start it.

  The vibration, the knowledge that this was built to move excites me. “Don’t go far,” Wyatt says loud enough for me to hear.

  “I won’t,” I reply.

  He steps back, and I take off.

  I don’t know how far I ride or how fast I go. I should be nervous. This is my first time, I’m alone on a country back road, and the only person who knows I’m here is on foot.

  All I want to do is keep riding. I want to ride fast and go far. I want to escape this place. Not just physically but mentally and emotionally as well, when this happens I know it’s time to go back.

  Somehow I manage to turn around and head back to Wyatt, this time I go slower. Savoring the feeling.

  Wyatt is standing in the same place I left him. His arms are crossed over his chest; his feet are wide and planted firmly on the ground. This is not his normal stance. If it weren’t for the wide, crooked smile on his adorable face, I’d be concerned.

  “You were gone a long time. I thought you ditched me.”

  “Really? It didn’t feel like it.”

  “Forty-five minutes, Pagan,” he tells me.

  �
��What? I went that far?”

  “Yep. All the way to the next county and back.”

  “Holy shit. That’s amazing.”

  “How’d it feel?” he asks as he pulls me into his arms.

  I’m still wearing my helmet so I remove it before answering. “It felt like nothing else before. But this,” I squeeze his hands on my hips, “this feels better.”

  “I agree,” he says softly.

  We don’t kiss, we don’t speak. We just hold each other as we become closer than two people probably should be. And I don’t mean physically.

  Wyatt and I have more than just the physical.

  And I realize, I no longer care about the consequences.

  He knows who I am, the rest, we can figure out together, because nothing will make me leave. Not now.

  Wyatt Hensley might just become the best and worst thing that’s ever happened to me.

  Chapter 18

  Wyatt

  “You cook?” The surprised look on Pagan’s face makes me laugh. I like making her see things in a different light. I doubt any other guy my age knows how to cook a full blown balanced meal.

  The things you learn when you’re busy playing daddy.

  “I do.”

  “You cook, but you rarely eat. How does that happen?”

  “Wyatt is a contradiction, for just about everything,” Mary says from behind us.

  Turning I watch as she appraises Pagan and me. How close we are, how comfortable we are with each other.

  Mary knows me better than anyone, except now Pagan, so she knows this is far from normal. I don’t like the way she’s looking at Pagan. I know Mary cares about me and all that, but I don’t need her approving or disapproving my choices.

  “I didn’t know y’all were back.”

  “We just came in. The girls are in the playroom. I have to head out. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She turns to leave. “Oh, and Marley. I hope to talk to you more soon. It’d be nice to get to know the girl my boss is dating, especially if she’s going to be around more.” And with that she’s striding out of the kitchen, shaking her jean-clad ass.

  I could kill her.

  “Dating? Does the nanny know something I don’t?” Pagan asks folding her arms across her lovely chest.

  “Of course not.” I try to smile at her, but I’m sure it looks more like a grimace. “Mary is just protective I guess.”

  “She’s pretty.”

  “She’s five years older than us.”

  “So? You’re moving her in here next weekend. We might not be defined Wyatt, but this,” she gestures her hand in the space between the two of us, “is more than friendship.” At least she’s admitting it.

  I’ll take what I can get from her. But this is definitely not a topic I’m going to touch with a ten-foot pole. I know nothing about girls. But I do know I do not want to deal with a jealous and pissed off Pagan.

  “I have children to feed,” I tell her, grabbing the chicken from the fridge and placing a few pieces on the Foreman grill.

  “You don’t like her like that, do you? No dirty fantasies? No long showers?”

  This girl is going to kill me.

  “Definitely not,” I reply firmly. “The only one I’ve imagined in the shower has crazy curly hair, amazing green eyes, and stands about six inches shorter than my nanny. And not that I would ever admit it, but if I did have fantasies, they’d be about an evil little temptress named Pagan, who is trying to trap me into an argument.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m just curious.”

  “Really?” I shut the water off after washing my hands. “I don’t believe that. The Pagan I’ve become accustomed to doesn’t ask jealous questions and make me prove I’m a horny teenager for her and only her.”

  “Wyatt,” she says, “we had a lot of fun today.”

  “We did.”

  “I did a lot of thinking.”

  “You always do.”

  “And I decided I don’t want to hold back from whatever this is. I know things aren’t going to be perfect, I know they’re probably going to end badly. And the look on your face tells me you agree. However, I decided I’m done pretending with you.”

  “Really?” I whisper.

  “Really,” she whispers back.

  “What does that mean?” I need to be sure. I need her to be sure. Of what I don’t know, I just know I need it.

  “It means you’re mine, and I’m yours. And while that was a given already it didn’t mean anything because we were both afraid to say it out loud. A lot has happened this weekend. A lot will happen this summer. I know it.

  I also know,” she moves closer, “that as long as I have you, as long as it’s your arms around me, I can handle it.”

  We’re on the same page. For the first time, it seems as though our wants line up. We need each other. That’s something I’ve always known. It’s about damn time she knows it too.

  Those fucking green eyes are going to be the death of me.

  I know, without a doubt, that before this is over-because she’s right, it will end one day-as much as I wish forever was long enough, it will end. But before then, I know I will tell this girl how much I love her. She can’t know it now. She’s not ready. I’m not ready.

  There’s no use denying it, though. I fucking love this girl. In whatever capacity of love I’m capable of at the moment.

  Pagan

  There’s a calm to Wyatt that I can’t understand. It’s like after we had our little heart-to-heart something inside of him shifted. I’m dying to know what it is, but I’m too afraid to ask. I’ve done a lot of asking tonight. And I’m not ready for more.

  Tonight is big, for more than one reason. Not only is it the second night I’m going to sleep in Wyatt’s bed, but Ava and Adele are going to know I’m there. I’m also having dinner with just the three of them. They’ve been over for Sunday dinner a few times, but without Gran and Gramps, and occasionally Albert, this is much more intimate. Much more family oriented. In the idea that Wyatt and I are the adults to Ava and Adele.

  Knowing Wyatt plays the father figure to his sisters, and seeing it happen within the walls of their home are two different things. He has an authority here that I can’t understand. It’s intimidating.

  I’ve also decided that I don’t want the girls or Mary to call me Marley anymore. If I’m going to be around them more, and I hope I am, then I need to be okay with letting them in on the secret.

  If I’m going to be with Wyatt, if I’m going to trust him with everything, then I need to let all aspects of his life in as well. I can lie to my family, but I can’t lie to his.

  When I tell him this, he’s supportive. There’s nothing else he can be, this is my decision. But these are also his sisters. If he thought we were going to confuse them or scar them in any way, he wouldn’t let me do this.

  “Adele, do you know what a nickname is?”

  “Like a name that you get called that isn’t your name? Like the kids at school who call me Delly?”

  This kid is four. She’s way too smart for her age. Not that I know anything about kids, but I don’t think she’s normal.

  “Yes. So you know that when I tell you that my name is Pagan, not Marley, you understand that Marley is a nickname?”

  “Yes. But why do you go by a nickname?”

  “Only some people call me Pagan. Only special people,” I tell her. I hope I’m not screwing this up.

  “Am I special?”

  “You are a very special girl.”

  “Gag.”

  “Hush, Ava,” Wyatt scolds.

  I glance at Ava, she’s glaring at Wyatt, I don’t think she looked at me once after she realized I was having dinner with them.

  “Is Ava special?” Adele asks.

  “Yes, she can call me Pagan just like you.”

  “And Wyatt?”

  “And Wyatt.”

  “And Mary?”

  “Yes, and Mary.”

  “Not Mommy?”

  �
�No, your mother and I are not friends. She’s not special enough.”

  “Why?”

  “Yeah. Why? Why should we care about any of this?” Ava finally graces me with her cold blue eyes.

  “Ava, you should be grateful Pagan wants to put up with you,” Wyatt says in a tone I’ve never heard before.

  “It’s only because she’s your girlfriend.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend. We’re-it’s complicated, and you’re eleven,” Wyatt snaps.

  The siblings share a look, one I can’t possibly understand.

  It’s here when I understand how truly hard Wyatt has it. He has to play brother and father. He’s everything to these girls. That balance between friend and authoritative figure, between sibling rival and adult, is so out of whack it’s amazing the three of them aren’t more screwed up.

  Dakota and I would fight, but as sisters only. I’d tell her what to do, but as the older sister, it was my job.

  Wyatt isn’t playing big brother. He’s playing father.

  When he fights with his sister, it’s not about meaningless things; it’s about real issues within their family.

  I thought I understood the role Wyatt played in his sisters’ lives. But until this moment, watching him struggle to control her even though he technically shouldn’t have that power, it breaks my heart.

  I want to cry for this family.

  “Pagan?” Adele’s small voice interrupts my thoughts, and I’m thankful.

  “Yes?”

  “Does Grandma Jodie call you Pagan?”

  “No.” How do I explain? “She calls me Marley. Both Grandma Jodie and Grandpa Frank call me Marley because I asked them to.”

  “Okay.”

  “Can you do me a favor? Do you know what that is?”

  “No.”

  “It’s something you do for friends. You do something they ask you, as long as it doesn’t get you in trouble, and then when you need them to do something for you, they’ll do it for you. Do you understand?”

  “Yes. So I ask you to watch my rocks you will?” I have no idea what that means, but I agree anyway.

  “I’ll watch your rocks if you keep the fact that you, Ava, Wyatt, and Mary call me Pagan a secret.”