by K. V. Rose
What he doesn’t get is that he already is someone decent. More than decent.
Benji steps off the grass, into the parking lot, putting more space between us, backing away. He brushes his thumb over his lips before he puts his hand back in his pocket. “Doesn’t matter, Princess,” he says quietly. “You aren’t for me.”
I feel like I can’t breathe. Like I might choke. He starts to turn away.
“You want me to go after Dumont?” I call after him, not caring who hears. Class has already started and I don’t see anyone else in the parking lot anyway, but even if I did, I wouldn’t keep my voice down. I step down onto the pavement too, and Benji watches me wearily, like he wishes I’d stop talking.
“You want me to keep fucking him, then? You’re okay with that?” I laugh and it’s bitter. “Or maybe you are okay with that, because you and Bianca sure didn’t mind fucking around—”
His hand darts out and he yanks me close to him, pressing my body into his, letting go of my arm to press his palm against my back. With his other hand, he forces my chin up. His eyes look so green in the daylight.
“You know nothing about me and her,” he growls at me, his fingers digging into my jaw.
“So protective over the girl who fucked your life up—” He cuts me off, squeezing my face so hard I gasp.
“You’re the girl that’s fucked my life up,” he hisses at me, his breath caressing my mouth. “You, Ava. You’ve got me thinking maybe I’m not so bad. Maybe I don’t really need to do this shit I do. Maybe, one day, I could be something else. Someone’s father, like I never had. I could be someone’s husband, I could love someone gently. I could be the person to someone that I always wanted for myself but never got.” His lips hover over mine and I can almost feel them on mine. Almost. My blood heats, my thighs clench but I don’t dare move.
“You with your sick mom and your fucking bleeding heart and your beautiful eyes and your lost fucking soul and how you feel when I’m inside you.” He sounds so disgusted, his words so at odds with how he seems to be feeling. I still can’t move, my face forced upward to meet his gaze.
“Even you letting your professor fuck you, Ava. It shows you’ve got fucking spirit.” I feel his mouth on mine now, but he doesn’t kiss me. “That maybe you can handle me, after all. Maybe someone can love me, despite everything I’ve done.” Then he kisses me, and it’s harsh and possessive, a growl in his throat as he bites my lip then pulls away, hand still on my jaw.
A low moan sounds in my throat and my cheeks warm as he smiles coldly down at me. “But you don’t want everything I’ve done, do you? You can’t take it, can you?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I whisper, wanting to feel his mouth on mine again. My heart is hammering in my chest, and my hands are on his jacket. I can feel the warmth of him beneath it, his hard muscles. I want him closer. “But you can’t let it go, can you?” My voice is still a whisper, but it isn’t quiet. “You want to be the bad guy. You want to be the darkness. Well guess what, Benji?” I brush my mouth over his soft lips. “I know you’re more than that, even if you don’t want to admit it to yourself. Even if you never do. I know you’re more.”
For a second, his face softens. The hand on my jaw loosens, and he leans down, as if he’s going to kiss me again. But he doesn’t. Instead, he lets me go and backs away. Cold air rushes in to fill the space of the warmth he’d occupied. He turns to go.
“You aren’t for me, Ava,” he says without looking at me.
Twenty-Five
“Baby, you can’t do that!” Caden shouts, faking an anger he definitely doesn’t really feel, slamming his fist on the coffee table of his living room.
Riley’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, Caden’s in the recliner dragged up against the table and I’m on the couch, feet on the floor, a drink in my hand. I really shouldn’t drink. I’m not so nice when I drink. But fuck, am I really nice when I don’t drink?
Besides, I took my last Xanax earlier this morning, so I’m fucked. This is my only choice. Obviously, I could score something from a dealer here, and it wouldn’t be so hard to find one. If it was, I’d call Felix, and he’d find one.
But I don’t like buying prescription drugs off the street. A purity thing.
It’s been a week since Rolland was killed, and I still haven’t left. I don’t know why. Felix has been blowing up my phone. Not emergencies, but he’s pissed. He took care of the last job quickly enough and he wants to talk about more. He always wants to talk about more.
I usually do too.
For once though…I don’t.
Maria Virani buried her husband, and the funeral made the news. What didn’t make the news was how he died or why. Nothing about Jack. Riley. Any of it. Instead, people are mourning a real estate mogul and his widow, the woman who lost a child three years ago, too.
If might actually be sad if it wasn’t so fucked up.
Caden’s smile lights up his whole face as he swipes Riley’s entire pile of cards and shuffles it in the deck. I don’t even know what they’re playing. I’m not playing with them.
Riley laughs, covering her face with her hand, that big black diamond shimmering under the lights in the living room. The blinds are open, nothing but darkness outside.
“Hey,” Caden says and I realize he’s talking to me as he shuffles the cards. Riley picks up her drink, probably rum and Diet, and watches me as I shift my gaze to Caden. Riley has a small smile on her face. Probably because she’s drunk, and because now that Rolland is dead, Caden is more…carefree.
“Where’s your girl?” Caden asks me, still smiling. He sets the cards down and picks up his beer by the neck, tossing it back.
I finish my drink, swirl the ice around in my glass. “What girl?” I arch a brow at him.
Riley giggles. “Ava is obsessed with you,” she says, cocking her head as I level a stare her way. “You telling me you don’t feel the same?”
“Her mom is dying.” I reach down and set the glass on a coaster on the table.
“Even better,” Caden says teasingly, setting his beer down. Not on a coaster. “When chicks are grieving…” He trails off when Riley throws him a glare. He holds up his hands in mock innocence. “I mean, I’m just sayin’…”
“Shut up,” Riley says, rolling her eyes.
Caden gets off the chair, sinks down to the floor beside her and wraps an arm around her shoulder. Riley tries to pull away, but he doesn’t let her, and she reluctantly lays her head against him.
I feel that pang of jealousy light through me. Not that Caden has Riley. I know Riley is my friend, and I don’t want her for anything more. But I want what they have, as toxic as it may be sometimes.
I don’t care.
I want it.
With Ava fucking Culwen.
“She doesn’t want to talk to me,” I tell them.
They look up from each other to stare at me. “Why?” Caden asks, as if he’s offended on my behalf. But they’ve been through shit. So have I. Ava…she hadn’t watched a man die before Rolland. She probably hadn’t seen someone beat the shit out of a helpless sack of crap before, like I made her watch with Rolland. And I didn’t just beat the shit out of him…I helped hurry along his death.
She probably hates me for that.
Good.
I hook my arms around the back of the couch. “Is it really that mysterious?” I ask, letting my eyes flutter closed as I lean my head back. “She thinks I’m a psycho.”
A beat of silence and then Riley mutters, “Well, you are a psycho.”
Caden laughs and I can picture him shaking his head, even with my eyes closed. “You think she’s jealous?” he asks after a moment. “Of our threesome?” Something in his tone makes me snap my head up to watch him.
Riley is watching him too.
His smile is gone.
“Maybe she wants to join in,” he suggests, shrugging.
Riley leans away from him, ducking out from under his arm.
Her green eyes are narrowed and the whole mood in the fucking room changes.
Leave it to Caden Virani to fuck up a perfectly decent Friday night. More than decent, from his perspective.
Dumbass.
“What are you saying?” Riley asks, crossing her arms.
Caden claps a hand on her calf. She’s wearing black sweatpants, a white t-shirt. Caden still has on black pants and a crisp white shirt. They look like opposites, save for the fact they’re both good looking and right now, kind of angry.
“Well, baby girl, you had your fun. And Ava is cute, isn’t she?”
My pulse quickens with those words, even though he’s not wrong. Not to mention the fact that I said enough provocative things about Riley to last us a decade. Not to mention I fucked Riley. Not to mention that morning when Caden walked in to see us all in bed together…
I don’t really have the right to feel jealous, but I kind of do. And Riley definitely does. She stands to her feet, and Caden watches her, his blue eyes narrowed.
She smiles at him. It’s cold, and definitely does not meet her eyes.
“Okay,” she says quietly. “If that’s what you want.” She uncrosses her arms and I see, for the first time, she isn’t wearing a bra.
Caden sees it too.
“Riley,” he growls, his voice laced with warning.
But she ignores him, and turns to me, because of course they’ve got to bring me into their bullshit. She saunters over to me and sinks down beside me on the couch. Fuck’s sake.
She leans into me, her hand on my chest, and I do my best not to react. I’m holding my breath, I realize, as I look to Caden for some fucking help. We’re not really going to do this again, are we? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’d love to. If Ava was here.
But our first time together, that was supposed to be a one-off. But Caden had said…he’d said he’d do anything for Riley. And I think he meant it.
I think about Ava. About her accusing glare when I let her into Riley’s condo and she saw Riley with the towel wrapped around her, her hair dripping wet. How she had looked between us, and probably wanted me to explain what was going on.
Nothing.
That’s what had been going on.
But Riley’s hand is trailing lower over my abs, down to my belt buckle.
I don’t move.
Caden’s nostrils flare.
“Riley,” he says again, lower, more dangerous. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Here we go.
Riley’s fingers deftly unbuckle my belt and I still don’t move. I’m watching Caden. He’s watching Riley. I don’t know who Riley is looking at because I refuse to look at her, but if I had to guess, I’d say Caden.
Riley unbuttons my jeans. “You wanna go again?” she purrs, directing her question to Caden. “Wanna watch your best friend fuck me again?”
Jesus Christ.
I close my eyes, hoping to God Riley doesn’t put her hand on my dick. And as if God actually listens to me for once in my fucking life, my phone vibrates in my pocket. Riley’s hand stops and she pulls away from me.
“Might wanna get that,” she whispers.
I swallow, open my eyes to see Caden glaring at me, and lean over, pulling my phone from my back pocket.
It’s Ava.
My heart leaps into my throat and I answer the call, bringing the phone to my ear. Before I can even say ‘Hello’, I hear her sobbing on the other end.
“My mom, Benji,” she says, her words coming out choked. “It’s my mom.”
“I’ll be right there, Princess.”
I end the call, stand to my feet and button my pants and do up my belt. “Gotta go.”
I leave without looking back at my friends.
Twenty-Six
I only hear silence when I walk inside her house.
Silence, and something that feels strangely cold. I don’t believe in God. I don’t really believe in ghosts, either. But I swear to God there’s a ghostly presence in this house, even if it’s just from the two broken humans inside.
Ava’s arms wrap around me and I lift her up, hugging her close to me. Her whole body is wracked with sobs and she rests her head on my shoulder. I lean against the door at my back and just hold her, smoothing down her hair, letting her cry. I don’t need to ask.
I know her mom is gone now.
I have no idea if her father knows I’m here, but now is not the time to ask.
Instead, I just let Ava cry, her tears falling against my neck. My heart aches for her, even though I never got to meet her mom. Something I’m sure that will haunt Ava for the rest of her life.
Because I don’t care what I said. I don’t care what she said. I’m not leaving her again. She’s stuck with me now.
After a moment, her sobs grow quiet, but her body still shakes in my arms, her own arms still wrapped around my neck, her legs around my waist. I want to kiss her tears away, pull back and wipe them from her eyes. But I let her grieve how she wants. This is her loss.
I stand like that, with her pressed against me, for a long, long time. I don’t hear her father upstairs, and I wonder how he’s coping. I wonder how he’s hurting. I wonder if he can even think right now, past the misery.
Wonder what it must be like to love someone that much.
Finally, Ava pulls away from me and I slide her down my body until she’s on her feet. Her face is red, eyes still full of tears, and her lip trembles as she takes my face in her hands.
“Benji,” she whispers, like a question.
I don’t say anything, just keep staring at her. Her blue eyes are shining from grief, but I can’t help thinking she looks so goddamn beautiful. So fucking pure. It’s not fair that the world did this to her, took her mom much too soon.
But I know more than anyone that nobody gets a perfect life. Ava is no exception. If it were up to me, she would be.
“Stay with me,” she whispers, my face still between her hands.
I nod. “Of course.” I wouldn’t dare leave.
Her hands fall down my face, to my neck, skimming over my shoulders and my body comes alive at her touch, even though I won’t fuck her tonight. Not unless she really, really wants to. Some people try to deal with grief that way.
I know I did, after I got out of prison. I tried to fuck away the memory of watching Bianca with Thames.
Feeling his head beneath my tire wasn’t enough. Beating him to within an inch of his life wasn’t fucking enough. I wanted to get her out of my system completely.
In prison, I did.
But with Ava…I’m not sure I ever would. She’s too good. I don’t ever want to erase her.
“Is your dad…” I trail off, not sure what I’m asking. I know he’s not okay. I know he probably doesn’t want to see a grown ass man in his house, touching his daughter. But I’m definitely not leaving.
Ava looks down, and I see a tear clinging to her lower lashes.
“We’ll go to my room,” she whispers. “You can see him in the morning.”
I nod, and she slips her hand in to mine, tugging me toward the stairs.
I don’t sleep.
Ava’s back is pressed against my chest, my arms wrapped around her. I feel her steady inhales and exhales as she sleeps. We passed by her mom’s room without going in, but the door was cracked, and I saw her dad was wrapped around her mom just like I’m wrapped around her.
My chest feels like it’s going to cave in, thinking of Ava that way.
I tighten my arms around her a little more. She can never fucking leave me. And I’ve definitely got to die first. Or maybe we’ll go together.
My eyes are closed, my nose against her hair, and she smells so damn good. She’s wearing a cami, pajama bottoms, and I can’t imagine being anywhere else right now. Maybe ever.
I hope she dealt with Dumont. Because if she didn’t…I will.
She graduates in two months. I’ve already decided to stay here until she’s done. Maybe then I can talk her int
o moving to Canada. But what about her dad? Is he going to need her?
Am I willing to stay here, a little longer? If that’s what it takes?
Am I fucking delusional?
How the fuck do I expect this to work?
Ava shifts in her sleep, turning to face me, her hands reaching out for mine. I take hers, and she sleeps on, her swollen eyes closed softly. I want to touch her face, tuck her hair behind her ear, but I don’t want to wake her. Because when she wakes up, she’ll remember it all over again.
It happened to me in prison.
Every night, I’d go to sleep in the hard cot, have dreams I could never remember, and wake up confused. Wondering where the fuck I was, and why. Every single night, the entire time I was in.
That’s how her grief will be.
She’ll lose her mom over and over again for a long, long time, every time she wakes. So I don’t touch her face, I just let her sleep.
In the morning, I’ll be here for her. And not just tomorrow. The day after, and the day after that one, too.
Twenty-Seven
November comes too soon.
I didn’t celebrate Halloween. Dad had people decorate the house, outside and inside, but he didn’t hand out candy like he and Mom did every year since I became too old to trick-or-treat.
I broke things off with Dumont, which he hated. But he must have remembered Benji, because he left me alone after our hushed conversation in his classroom. I’m worried he’s going to fail me, but I do my work. I have decent grades. Maybe he won’t be that petty.
Benji hasn’t went back to Toronto.
He’s still here.
I see him and Caden and Riley nearly every weekend. Dad has thrown himself back into work and he doesn’t want to talk about Mom.
I don’t either.
Not yet.
I keep pretending she’s still here, still in that room hooked up to the machines with the blankets piled over her small frame. Like maybe if I don’t peek inside her room, she will still be there. And when I’m ready, I can go inside and crawl onto her bed and into her lap.