Pagan follows Ava into the kitchen. I have to stop what I’m doing and appreciate her curves. No matter how many times I hold her, no matter how many times I see her, I know I’m always going to admire her body.
I might not know much, but I know enough to appreciate a beautiful girl. And Pagan is as beautiful as they come. Her long legs are showcased in a pair of cut-off jean shorts. She’d say she’s pale; I say she has beautiful porcelain skin that I just want to touch with my hands and my mouth.
Her shirt hangs off one shoulder. The deep purple color compliments her green eyes, eyes that are now hidden beneath plain brown-colored contacts.
Her dark colored hair is loose hanging down her shoulders in a mass of curls. I want to go to her and wrap my hands in her hair. I want to feel the way her pretty pink mouth moves undermine.
But I can’t do that, so instead I place a bowl of cereal in front of Adele and continue on with my morning routine.
“We have to go by the house after school. I need more clothes,” Pagan says, moving around me to get to the coffee.
“Okay.” I haven’t thought about how long she was going to stay here. I wouldn’t care if she stayed the whole summer, but that’s only a fantasy. “Are you sure it’s all right for you to go? Maybe I should just go.”
“No, I have to be a big girl. I haven’t turned my phone on since you turned it off Saturday. I need to get clothes and see what the damage is. It’s okay if I stay at least one more day, right?”
“Of course.” Grabbing her arm, I turn her to face me. “Don’t ever ask that again. You are always welcome to stay.”
“Thank you.”
“Trust me, the pleasure is all mine,” I whisper, leaning down to place a quick kiss on her lips.
“I need more shoes. I left my work ones in my locker, and I’m tired of wearing sandals. I haven’t had a pedicure in forever either.” She pouts and looks down at her feet.
“Girls are so weird,” I say. All I see are her small feet and equally small toes. The purple polish is chipped, and that makes it all that much more adorable to me.
“You just don’t understand,” she says with a sigh. “Guys have it so easy.”
“Not all the time,” I reply, running my hand through my damp hair.
Normally I wet my hair in the mornings and run a comb through it. Otherwise, it’s everywhere and more often than not ends up falling into my eyes. Mary says I don’t cut my hair often or short enough.
This morning Pagan said she liked the thick wavy mess and refused to let me do anything but wet it some. The determined look in her eyes was cute, so I let her have her way.
She also dressed me in a pair of dark wash jeans I’ve had forever, my black Chucks, and what is according to her, her favorite dark blue dress shirt of mine.
Having Pagan pick out my clothes and instruct me on what to do or not do with my hair felt so natural. I couldn’t help but listen to her.
“I love your glasses,” she whispers. “I think you look better with them on.”
“I’ll make a note of that then,” I whisper back.
I have one pair of contacts left, which I need to save for work tomorrow, hence the need for glasses today. Hopefully, the prescription I ordered comes in tomorrow. I don’t really like wearing my glasses when I’m not at home.
“Gag, get a room,” Ava says, breaking whatever spell we were under.
I release Marley and take a long breath before I turn to face my sister. I swear it’s like she lives to make my life difficult.
“Go finish getting ready. Mary should be here soon.”
“So long as it gets me away from your excessive PDA.” She rolls her eyes.
I’m grateful for my hours at the club. If I had to be home all summer with Ava, one of us might not survive. I feel sorry for Mary, hopefully she acts better when I’m not around.
I try the best I can with her. But she’s eleven. I’m reminded time and time again by her that she is not a small child like Adele. I know our situation is hard, and I know Ava is acting out because she doesn’t know how else to express herself. I’ve read the parenting books on how to deal with adolescents. I’ve stooped so low as to making up profiles for online forums.
Ava doesn’t want her brother to parent her, but someone has to. I’m beginning to feel like I’m not strong enough to balance it all.
Chapter 20
Pagan
Walking next to Wyatt without touching him feels so wrong. All weekend I had the liberty of placing my hands wherever I wanted on him, and now that we’re at school I can’t. I agree that our peers shouldn't know yet. We don’t need them judging our relationship, or whatever the hell this is. But not being able to touch him, not being able to feel his strong arms around me sucks.
It doesn’t escape anyone’s notice, however, as Wyatt carries both our backpacks and opens the doors for me. He likes to blame it on where he lived, what he was taught. But it’s just him. Chivalry is not dead. It lives in my sweet silent boy.
Our arms brush as we sit in history, but I can’t hear a thing that is said. I don’t particularly care for history, but we have a final tomorrow so I should probably pay attention.
The back of my hand touches Wyatt’s. While it’s innocent, I’m comforted by the fact that I can turn my hand over and place it in his and he’ll hold tight. Knowing that Wyatt is here to catch me makes me think that I can still stand when life fucks us over.
We’re not perfect, we will never be perfect, but what we have together, is perfect.
It makes me believe that I am strong enough.
I more than like him, I more than care about him, but I don’t think I’m ready for what comes next.
I’m still trying to figure out who I am.
Wyatt
She no longer hesitates when she walks over to our table. Pagan walks with her head held high, like she doesn’t have a care in the world. Oh, how I wish that were true. I’d do anything to ease her worries. I’d gladly take them as my own.
Kala follows Pagan to our table. I try not to be awkward around her, but it’s hard to look her in the eye. I haven’t talked to the girl since I was fourteen and she gave me my first kiss behind the gym.
Two days later she started hanging out with Mikayla and her band of minions.
I’m not going to be the one to tell Pagan that her only friend was my first kiss. Even if we don’t have feelings for each other, even if it was a long time ago, after Pagan’s display of jealousy over Mary, I’d rather not chance it.
“What are your plans for the summer, Marley?” Kala asks as they sit down. I wince at that horrible name.
Knowing what I know about Pagan, that other name doesn’t fit her. At all. I’m curious to know how she chose it.
“Work, work, and more work. And spend some time with this asshole.” She gestures to me. “Then work some more.”
“You have to have some fun. Come on, it’s the summer vacation before our senior year. Next year is going to be stressful enough with graduation and college apps. You can’t spend the whole summer doing nothing.”
“Eh, I’ll be fine.”
Kala sighs and digs into her salad. “Y’all are no fun.”
“We’re not here to entertain you,” Pagan says. She gives me half of the orange she peeled.
I accept it without complaint. The girl is always trying to feed me. She’ll just bitch if I don’t take what is offered. It makes me grateful for her.
“There’s a party Friday night. Kind of a traditional, end-of-the-school-year thing.” Kala shrugs. “You can come with me. If you want.”
Pagan rolls her eyes, pushing her half eaten tray toward me. “I don’t want to,” she says.
Grabbing the tray I stand to throw it away. “You should go,” I tell her. “Have some fun.”
“I’m not a big fan of crowded houses, loud music, and drunken obnoxious rich kids.”
“Hey,” Kala says, “I take offense to that. I’m not as rich as some people.”
She looks at Pagan pointedly.
Pagan just smiles and glances at me. Her hazel eyes twinkle with amusement. To everyone else, Pagan comes from the wealthiest family in town. She and I are the only ones who will ever know the truth.
***
“You ready?” I ask, turning the car off.
“No.” Pagan sighs before opening the door. “Let’s get this over with.”
I follow her up the porch steps; she takes a deep breath before opening the front door.
We both pause in the foyer. The house is quiet, and there are no other cars in the driveway, but that doesn’t mean anything. Instead of going upstairs she heads for the kitchen.
It’s empty, as is the den. It seems like we’re alone. “Let’s get out of here,” Pagan says, grabbing my hand and leading me to the back stairs.
I sit on the bed as Pagan pulls some clothes out of her closet. Her room is big; I didn’t really take stock the last time we were here. Even though I’ve been over for dinner many times, we never came in here. It was always the back porch or Frank’s study.
The large window looks out over the beautiful backyard. I want their backyard. I want their house. Everything is so relaxed, so open. I have a few years before I think I’m ready for a house of my own, but maybe I’ll talk to Frank. See if he can help me come up with a solid idea.
Of course, thinking about the future, with my imaginary house, makes me think about Pagan and the nature of our relationship.
“Earth to Wyatt,” Pagan says. I turn away from the window to find her standing right in front of me.
“Are you ready?”
“Sure,” I reply. But I don’t get up. Instead, I snake my hand out and catch her around the waist.
Pulling her in between my legs I stare into her hazel eyes. “Take them out,” I whisper.
“Wyatt, we need to leave.”
“Please. Indulge me. I know you don’t want to be here, but I don’t want to be there.”
“Well we’re fucked then, aren’t we?” she whispers.
“I guess so.” I smile at her, and she gives me one of her own.
None of her smiles, real, fake, sad, or happy compare to the one in the picture downstairs. But I love them all the same because they come from her. Pagan’s smile, just like her eyes, call to me in ways I can’t explain.
She pulls away from me, but I tighten my hold. “I’m going to take the contacts out.” It’s the only thing that makes me let her go.
When she comes back out, she goes right back to where she was. “Pagan,” I say to her stomach.
“What?”
Wrapping both arms around her, I pull her close to me and bury my face into her shirt.
“I like you. I really like you. I know we’ve talked a lot in the past, but I don’t know if you really understand how much I like you. How much I’m giving and risking by being here with you. You’ve become so important to me. I don’t know what I’m going to do when you leave me.”
“Who says I’m going to leave you?” she asks, her small, soft fingers run through my hair.
“Because eventually this will end. Maybe we’ll spend the rest of our lives together if we manage to like each other enough, but if that happens, someone will eventually die.
And it will have to be you. Just like if we end up ending this relationship, it will have to be you.
Because I promised you that I will never hurt you. And I don’t break my promises.
I just wanted you to know that.”
“Okay. Okay, Wyatt. I’ll let you have your crazy moment. Because you’ve indulged me many times, I’ll let you have this.
But understand something, Wyatt. Every time you pick me over them, you hurt me. Because that’s not how it should be.”
“I love them. I will always take care of them. But I need to be happy and take care of myself as well. You make me happy.
It will never be a choice for me.”
“You promise me. You will never make a choice between us? I can’t live with the guilt of that. And I think, if you had to choose them, you’d hurt me. Badly.”
“I promise. I will never hurt you. And I will never let there be a choice between you or them. I need the three of you to survive.”
Chapter 21
Pagan
Wyatt pulls away and emotion-filled eyes meet mine. I didn’t think eyes like his-so clean and clear-could be filled with so much emotion. I guess vulnerability brings out the blue in them.
Wyatt’s hands are on my hips, his fingers teasing the skin between my shirt and my shorts.
My hands are resting on his shoulders. “We should go,” I say.
“We should. But I don’t want to.”
“Truthfully neither do I. It’s not that I want to be here, it’s that I don’t want to leave this.”
“I know,” he replies. “What we have, in this room, it’s the same thing I feel when we’re alone in my room. We’re alone, at peace.”
“Exactly. But I don’t know if I’m ready to stay. I probably should. I don’t want to overstay my welcome-”
“Don’t.” He cuts me off. “You’re welcome whenever you want. Honestly, I don’t want to leave you.”
“Then don’t.”
“The girls.” He sighs.
“They’ll be fine with Mary. She’s moving in this weekend anyway.”
“You’re right.” I’m not.
“No, I’m not, I’m trying to make you choose me. Even though it’s the last thing I want.” I’m lying.
“No, you’re not. I want to stay here with you. Without the distractions. I want to hold you in your bed. I want everything with you; I just don’t know how to get it.”
“Let’s go.” I pull away from him.
“Wait.” Wyatt grabs my wrist, pulling me back in. “Kiss me,” he says.
I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t. We need to leave, but those eyes, that mouth, that voice. They call me in. It’s him, just him. I can’t ever get enough.
Leaning down, I give him what he wants, what we both want.
It’s short and sweet and loving.
I’m afraid to linger. Afraid of what all these feelings mean.
Wyatt grabs the bag I packed, and we head downstairs hand in hand.
We go down the main staircase, in hopes of making a quick exit. But as we reach the front door it swings open, and Albert takes a few steps inside before spotting us.
My spine straightens. There are a few ways this could play out, none of them are pleasant.
The grip Wyatt has on my hand tightens. He’s trying to ground me. I cling to him, hoping the safety and comfort I find in his embrace is enough to keep me in one piece.
“Pagan,” he says with no emotion in his voice.
I flinch. Wyatt squeezes my hand.
“Albert,” I say just as coolly.
“Didn’t think you’d be coming back.”
“I live here. We just came so I can grab a few things.”
“Olivia expects you back in Georgia.”
“I don’t give a fuck what Olivia expects. I’m never going back. I thought I made that perfectly clear when I left. Or on Saturday when she decided to cause a scene at my place of employment.”
“You’re still a minor, Pagan. We are still your parents.”
Wyatt steps forward, he angles his body so that it’s slightly in front of mine. I feel something more for him at this gesture.
“Have you ever looked up the definition of ‘parent’ Albert? I wouldn’t think you have. But I have. My sister, Adele, was three when she first heard that word. When she asked what it meant, I looked it up, because I sure as shit didn’t know.
The definition of parent is: be or act as a mother or father to someone.
And as far as I’m concerned, neither you nor Olivia,” he spits my mother’s name out like it’s a dirty word, “have been a father or mother to Pagan, so I’m wondering, why you think you’re her parent.”
The tension is thick, I feel like I’m chok
ing.
Wyatt and my father stare each other down. Blue eyes on clear. The two men in my life, one who doesn’t care-or doesn’t care enough-the other, shouldn’t care but does-probably too much.
“This, Wyatt, is a family matter. I have to ask you to leave. Now.” Albert’s blue eyes hold a fire I’ve never seen before.
“I can’t do that. I can’t leave unless Pagan tells me to go.” Wyatt’s voice is steely.
At this moment I am afraid.
I am afraid of what will happen if Wyatt doesn’t leave. I am afraid what my father will do if he does.
I’ve never been hit. At least not by Albert. He preferred a more passive approach to our punishment.
I’m not afraid that he will hit me, he doesn’t have the balls. I’m afraid that Wyatt will hit him.
He is no longer holding me; my small frame is almost completely protected behind his taller one. I don’t move, I don’t speak, I don’t even breathe.
A car comes to a stop in front of the house. I can hear gravel crunching underneath the tires. A door slams, and I hear feet rushing in our direction.
Albert is still in the doorway, Wyatt is still shielding me. So it’s not until she speaks do I know. Then I relax slightly.
“And just what do y’all think you’re doing with my front door open? I know none of ya was raised in a barn. Get the hell away before you let all the damn flies in the state in.” Gran’s sharp drawl snaps us all back to the present.
“I was just telling Wyatt that he could leave now, Mother,” Albert says. I can no longer call him ‘Dad.'
“I raised you to be a man of sense. Or at least I tried to. So I’ll ask again. Why in the hell is my front door open?” Gran’s deep southern accent, the one she’s conditioned herself to tone down, is full-force. The more upset she is, the more her roots show.
“Like I said, Wyatt was just-”
“I didn’t ask for your lies, Albert Jessup,” Gran barks.
“I’m sorry, Jodie. Marley and I were just leaving.” Wyatt reaches blindly back with his hand, and I clasp it.
Once I’m back at his side, he wraps his arm around me, holding me close.
“Pagan is not going anywhere.” Albert seethes. His face turns red.
Forever (Destroyed by Love #1) Page 13