Bad Habit (Bad Love Book 1)

by Charleigh Rose

  Adrian huffs out a laugh, letting go of Jackson, and starts toward the door. “I’m out.”

  “Let’s start with you, then, Adrian,” Whitley says. He pauses and turns around, throwing his arms out in a hit me with your best shot gesture.

  “I bet no one here knows that you can’t get it up. At least not without your best friend there. Why is that? Could it be that pussy just doesn’t do it for you?”

  What is she talking about?

  “No, it’s just yours that tends to kill my boner,” he strikes back, but I can tell her jab hit its intended target from the way that he grinds his jaw and clenches his fists.

  “He’s not gay. That’s enough, Whitley,” Dash says in a low, threatening tone. She turns her attention to him, lifting one perfectly arched brow. Dash releases his hold on Jackson, but Asher keeps him pinned by his throat.

  “Why? Because you don’t want your precious little sister to know how messed up you really are? How you like to share girls with Adrian. How you both fucked me together, night after night, even in high school.”

  Her eyes glow with victory, dying for my reaction. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep my jaw from hitting the floor. I knew Adrian was into some freaky shit, but there are just some things you don’t need to know about your brother. Dash won’t so much as meet my eyes, and I hate Whitley right now. I hate her for all of this.

  “And what about you?” I snap. “You have literally slept with everyone in this room besides me. Did Daddy not love you enough? Or is this because of Asher? He doesn’t want you, Whitley. Why can’t you accept it? Sleeping with all his friends isn’t going to make him jealous.”

  I know I’m being harsh. I hear the words being spewed from my mouth like verbal diarrhea, but I can’t stop myself. Whitley is toxic, and she’s hurting every single person I love with her brand of poison. I’ve put up with her for years. But this? This is too far.

  Whitley’s mouth snaps shut, and her face reddens.

  “You,” she says, pointing a finger at me, “are one to talk, Little Miss Make Out Slut. You’ll shove your tongue down anyone’s throat, but when it comes to fucking, no one gets you off like your brother’s best friend.”

  And there it is. My pulse races, and I hear my heartbeat in my ears that are now on fire. All eyes are on me. No one speaks. Dash begs me with his eyes to deny it, but I won’t lie to him. Jackson laughs, despite Asher’s fingers closed around his neck, but Ash doesn’t show any emotion whatsoever. His face is completely blank, but I know what he’s doing. He’s bracing himself for the fallout. Slipping that mask back into place.

  “I mean, sure, you screwed Jackson in an attempt to get over Asher. But even that was a one-off. Not that I blame you, though,” she whispers conspiratorially, holding her finger and thumb an inch apart in the universal sign for tiny penis, with her bottom lip jutted out in a fake pout.

  “What the hell, Whit?!” Jackson yells, while my brother says, “You fucked my sister?”

  “Since we’re all sharing secrets,” Jackson shoots back, “do you want to know the real reason Asher had to leave?”

  “Jackson, no.” Whitley shakes her head, looking genuinely nervous for the first time. My heart sinks, stomach full of dread. Even Asher seems confused. What could Jackson possibly know about Asher leaving?

  “Whitley saw you guys that night,” he starts, and Asher’s grip on his throat tightens. “In Dash’s room. She saw you in the window.”

  “What the fuck is he talking about?” my brother, who is rapidly losing patience, asks.

  “She knew right then she’d lost him, so she snapped a picture before Dash caught up and sent it to Daddy Vale. He’s the one who had him sent away. All because she was jealous.”

  What? How?

  My dad has made his feelings for Asher clear, but he would never do something like that. And if he did, he would’ve mentioned knowing, right? Asher drops his hand abruptly, bringing both hands behind his head as he paces back and forth, letting this new information sink in. She did this. I underestimated her. I thought she was just a typical high school mean girl: Gothic edition. I never thought she’d be capable of something like this. I shouldn’t be surprised, yet I still am.

  “She was fourteen!” Dash shouts, and from the sheer outrage in his voice, I know this is going to be bad. “You were with my sister when she was fourteen?”

  “No, it wasn’t like tha—” I try, but Dash lunges at Asher, only to be held back by Adrian.

  “You fucking piece of shit,” my brother says between clenched teeth. “I let you into my house. I trusted you with her. Instead, you fucking preyed on her! She’s a child!”

  Asher wipes his bloody nose with the back of his hand and sniffs.

  “I didn’t fucking touch her, man.”

  “So, she’s lying?” Jackson stabs a finger in Whitley’s direction. “You two haven’t been seeing each other behind my back?”

  “Not back then, we weren’t. I fought it when she was younger. I fucking fought it as hard as I could.”

  “I’ll kill you.”

  “I love her.”

  My mouth drops open. Love. Asher loves me. And he’s admitting it in a room full of people. The words are right, so right, but the timing is so wrong.

  Dash rushes Asher, and they both go down. Jackson takes the opportunity to slip out of the room like the coward he is, and both Adrian and I try to break them up. Asher is doing his best to block my brother’s hits without actually doing any harm, but after a few good punches, I can tell his graciousness is wearing off, and he’s close to fighting back. In all the years that Dash and Asher have been friends, they’ve never come to blows.

  “Knock it the fuck off!” Adrian shouts, separating them with a palm to each of their chests. I step in front of Asher just as Dash throws another punch. Ash shoves me out of the way and I stumble toward Whitley, but I catch myself. I turn my attention back to Dash and Asher, still trying to find my footing when I feel something abruptly pull me backward by my hair. I throw my arms out and try to twist around to brace myself for the fall, but something sharp hits my temple and then…nothing.

  Black.

  Just black.

  Chapter 13

  Asher

  I’m going to fuck Dash up. That’s my only thought as I push Briar out of the way right before his fist makes contact with her face. I get it. I fucked up. But he’s putting Briar in danger because he can’t see past his anger.

  I hear Whitley scream, and from the corner of my eye, I see Briar go down. She hits the side of her head on the table next to Whitley, sending the tray of coke flying. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  “Briar!” I scream her name, but she doesn’t move. Whitley stands there, gaping, and brings her hands to her mouth. I drop to my knees. I want to shake her, to lift her head and force her to look at me, but I know I shouldn’t move her. Blood pools under her head, and I look to Dash, who’s white as a fucking ghost.

  “Call 911!”

  Adrian breaks out of frozen fear, frantically feeling around for the phone in his pocket.

  “Briar, baby, wake up. Why the fuck isn’t she waking up?!”

  This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. Memories flash through my head of seeing my mom just like this, and I shake my head, violently, to rid myself of the images assaulting my mind. This is Briar, and this is different.

  Everything is muffled, but I recognize Adrian’s voice relaying the address to the police. The party below us still goes on, completely oblivious to what’s taking place above their heads. Carefully, I try to move Briar onto her side. I think I remember reading that you’re supposed to do that somewhere, and I can’t sit here and do nothing.

  “Get the fuck away from her,” Dash says, breaking out of his shock. “You’ve done enough!” He steps forward and kneels next to her. His shaky hands reach out to touch her, but he stops himself. “You fucking pushed her. You did this!”

  No.

  No.

  “Wa
lk the fuck away, Ash.”

  But I can’t. I won’t. Even if that means the end of my friendship with Dash. I pick Briar. I’ll choose Briar every fucking day if I have to.

  She’s still not waking up. Shouldn’t she have woken up by now? I want to argue with him. Tell him that I was trying to protect her from him, not hurt her. But, as I see her crimson blood spreading across the hardwood floor, I know that there has never been a clearer sign in my life. I’m no good for her.

  “Whitley!” Adrian snaps, and she jumps, her eyes darting up to his. “Get everyone out of here. The party is over.” She nods, panicked. “Now!” Adrian shouts, and she finally runs out of the room.

  “Dash, keep her head and shoulders elevated, but don’t move her neck.” Dash closes his eyes and blows out his breath. “Okay. Okay, I got it.”

  “Kelley, go get a clean towel or a washcloth or something. We need to stop the bleeding.”

  I don’t want to walk away from her. I feel like if I do… I can’t even go down that road. She’s going to be fine. She just bumped her head. Ignoring the fear that grips my throat, stealing all my air, and the blood on my boots, I bolt into action.

  “How do you know all this? She’s going to be okay, right?” I hear Dash ask Adrian as I’m walking out the door.

  “When your mom is a doctor, you pick up a few things over the years.”

  I don’t hear Dash’s response. I run down the hall toward the bathroom we almost went into before. Fuck, how was that only twenty minutes ago? How did everything get this bad in so little time? I barge in on a couple—some guy getting head as he sits on the toilet and a redhead between his knees—and yell at them to get the fuck out. They both jump up, and he trips over his pants as they run away.

  “Fuck!” I can’t find a towel. Darting back into the hall, I see a door that’s narrower than the others and hope to fuck it’s a linen closet. I grab two thick, white towels and one washcloth and rush back to the room.

  “She hasn’t woken up?” I ask, sliding the towels underneath her head. The longer she’s unconscious, the more I’m filled with a feeling of pure dread. Wisps of her blonde hair are stuck to the blood on her temple and cheek. Dash balled up his T-shirt, stopping the flow of blood, and he removes it to let me hold the washcloth there.

  “Where the fuck is the ambulance?” Dash’s panic-stricken voice echoes my thoughts. It feels like it’s been hours, but in reality, it’s probably only been about two minutes since she fell.

  “I’m going to make sure everyone’s out of the way and wait for them,” Adrian says, leaving us alone with Briar.

  “I can’t…” I start, but my voice cracks. I clear my throat and try again. “I can’t lose her. She’s the only fucking good thing in my world.”

  “Stop. The only reason you’re still here is because my sister needs me right now.”

  I want to tell him to try it. Just fucking try to make me leave. But now isn’t the time. So, we wait in tense silence for what seems like days, until the paramedics or EMTs or whoever the fuck they are pile into the room. There’s about six of them, two of them carrying a stretcher.

  Natalia comes barreling in on their heels, all the color gone from her face.

  “Oh my God!” she shrieks.

  “How long has she been unconscious?” one of the paramedics asks.

  “I don’t know, fuck, maybe ten minutes?” Dash answers.

  “What’s her name?”

  “Briar Vale.”

  “Briar, can you hear me?” another one asks, squatting down and checking her pulse. When she doesn’t respond, he presses his knuckles hard against the center of her chest.

  “The fuck are you doing?” I bark, just barely stopping myself from smacking his hand away. I think I see her stir, but I can’t be sure.

  “I’m testing her level of consciousness. Has she had anything to drink?”

  “No, I don’t think so,” I reply, but, fuck, I’m not sure. “She hit her head on the corner of the table.” I gesture to the nightstand and realize that no one even thought to clean up the drugs and paraphernalia. It’s the last thing I’m worried about—it’s not my shit—but the disapproving look the medic shoots me tells me he thinks he’s got us all figured out.

  “She wasn’t drinking,” Natalia chimes in, twisting her hands together. “I gave her a cup of that punch, but she set it on the table without taking a sip.”

  “And she doesn’t fucking do drugs,” I add pointedly.

  “Okay, let’s get her to the hospital.”

  Briar’s loaded up onto the stretcher and carried downstairs. My stomach rolls, and for a second, I think I’m going to throw up. I can’t help but draw parallels to the way I lost my mom. The unresponsiveness, the blood. My phone rings, but I don’t even look at it before hitting the fuck you button.

  She’s fine. She has to be.

  Once outside, they ask who’s riding with her to the hospital, and both Dash and I step forward.

  “Only one,” the medic snaps, looking between the two of us impatiently. “And figure it out soon or neither one of you is going.” He turns his attention to lifting Briar into the ambulance, and even though I want nothing more than to fight for my place next to her, I know I need to let this one go.

  “The only way you’re riding in the ambulance with her is if you’re in a goddamn body bag,” Dash says in a low, threatening voice.

  Shaking my head, I walk off wordlessly toward my truck. Except I’m blocked in by two other cars.

  Fuck!

  I’m seriously debating on hot-wiring a car—it’s what I fucking do best, after all—when Natalia rolls up and motions for me to jump in.

  “Need a ride?”

  Tears are streaming down her face, but she tries to play it off with a shaky, unconvincing smile. Most of the time, Natalia is a pain in my ass. She’s loud and opinionated, and I wish she came with a mute button. I tolerate her at best. But right now, we are the same. Two people who are trying to keep their shit together while the most important person in their lives is sitting in an ambulance.

  I climb into her flashy little sports car that costs more than most people’s homes. Her hand trembles as she reaches for the gear stick, and she stalls out. She smacks the steering wheel, and a frustrated growl leaves her mouth. I can tell she’s losing it. Really fucking losing it. We don’t have time to waste, so I place her hand on the shifter and cover it with my own. Her eyes shoot up to mine.

  “Get it together. Briar needs us.”

  “Okay. Okay,” she says, sounding like she’s trying to convince herself.

  “Breathe.”

  She does, inhaling and exhaling deeply.

  “Now, let’s fucking go.”

  She turns the key and pushes in the clutch, and this time, she doesn’t stall. She accelerates, weaving in and out of traffic to catch up to the blue and red flashing lights, and stays on their tail all the way to the hospital. She follows it all the way up to the emergency entrance and lets me jump out before going to park the car.

  I run toward the ambulance as they unload the stretcher that carries my fucking heart. The first thing I notice is that Dash is talking to her, reassuring her that everything is okay.

  She’s awake. She’s fucking awake.

  “Briar!” I yell as I get closer, and her panicked eyes follow the sound.

  “Asher? What happened? Asher, please.” She sounds desperate and confused, and I tell myself not to panic that she doesn’t remember. That it’s common with head injuries. Right?

  “You’re okay. It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

  They wheel her into the hospital. The bright fluorescent lights and bustling of the busy ER are a stark contrast from the quiet night sky.

  “You both need to wait out here,” one of the paramedics says over his shoulder. “Someone will be out to update you soon.”

  “Asher, please don’t leave me,” Briar says, right before they go through the double doors that we aren’t allowed to pass.r />
  “I’ll be here, baby. I’m not going anywhere,” I shout after her.

  And it’s true. Nothing and no one could make me leave her. I pace the waiting room, hands crossed behind my head, while Dash opts to take a seat. I try to distract myself by counting the square tiles on the ceiling and making out shapes in the water stain that seeped through.

  After a while, I notice him staring at me, his eyes following my every move with his arms crossed, expression contemplative.

  “What?” I snap, annoyed.

  “She asked for you.”

  Briar?

  “When?”

  “She asked for you right when she came to, and then she told you not to leave her. Not me. Any time she fell and scraped her knee or any time she forgot her lunch, she’d call me. Not my parents. Me. But she asked for you.”

  I don’t know what to say to that. I don’t know where he’s going with it, either. So, I don’t respond. After another minute or two, he breaks the silence again.

  “She loves you,” he says grudgingly.

  I pause my pacing, and even though the words aren’t coming from her, my heart starts to pound harder at the thought. I know he doesn’t mean like a brother or a friend, or he wouldn’t be upset at the idea.

  “Yeah, well, I fucked that up.”

  Why couldn’t I have just walked away? My actions caused this.

  I take a seat two chairs away from him, with my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands. My phone rings again, and I silence it. Not a second later, Natalia comes barging through the doors like a bat out of hell. She’s still in her party dress, but her shoes dangle from her fingers.

  “Where is she? Is she okay? Have you heard anything? They need better fucking parking. It took me ten minutes to find a spot. That’s not really conducive to an emergency situation,” she yells.

  Annnnd, the motor mouth is back.

  “Calm down, turbo. She’s awake, but we aren’t allowed to go back yet,” I say, dropping my head back down.

  “She’s awake,” she repeats, equal parts shock and relief lacing her Dash tone. “Thank fuck.” Natalia tosses her shoes underneath the chair between Dash and me before collapsing into it like a sack of potatoes.