Damage Me (Crystal Gulf Book 2)

by Shana Vanterpool

  He took a step. And then two.

  I watched him, wanting him so badly at that moment it was an intense, consuming desire. Not just for right now, but for longer. I wanted to be there for the day he took a step without hurting, when he could smile without thinking about all the times he hadn’t. I wanted the man who smiled at his daughter like she was everything. I imagined a little girl with my hair and his eyes, an unblemished angel who loved her daddy the way I never loved mine.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” he grunted, pausing to breathe. Pain radiated from him. He was risking pain to walk me into a prison to meet my father. It was the biggest I’m sorry I’d ever been given.

  “You hurt me.”

  “Hillary.”

  “You took the worst thing in my life and made it an inconvenience. Do you have any idea how badly that hurt me?”

  “Let’s. Go.”

  “I love you.”

  His head snapped up and his eyes latched on to mine like a lifeline. “What?”

  “I love you, Dylan Meyer. I just wanted you to know that, so when we leave here and I can’t have you, that you at least knew.”

  Horror painted his face. It weighed down his eyes, shone through his chest. “You don’t love me, Hillary. You can’t love me.”

  “Why not? Look at you? What’s not to love? You were the only person in my life that made it easier to breathe. You gave your leg for your country. You love your daughter the way I’ve always wanted my father to love me. You are worth so much to me. Why do you think you’re not?”

  My insides yearned for him. Just one second on his lap and I might be able to breathe.

  “Let’s fucking go!” he snapped, doing his best to stomp away.

  “You’re also an ornery jerk,” I continued, catching up. “But I think that’s just because you’re too busy trying to be strong. You like to have all the power, but I think that’s because at one point you had none. You yell sometimes. And I think that’s because you’ve got too much inside to whisper. You’re also gentle when I want you to be. You’re there. Not anymore, but you were. I wanted to thank you for that. Thank you for giving me an escape.”

  “Hillary, please.” His strangled plea washed over me. “Please stop. We’re going to meet Tyler and then we’re going home.”

  I held myself against his umpteenth dismissal. “I’m not going home.”

  “What are you talking about?” He took a step, continuing the long journey up the dusty dirt road.

  “I quit the coffee shop. I have nine hundred dollars saved. I can’t go back home. I want out.” From everyone who knew the old me and from anyone who didn’t want the new one.

  For a full minute we were quiet. Our stare down rooted me in place; our pupils dilated. And then his words spilled out of him in a quiet, threatening warning.

  “You are not taking off. You’re too innocent for that shit. You. Are. Not. Leaving. Me.” His cold hard eyes met mine. “You really love me? You’d really love an evil worthless douchebag? You’d give that sweet untainted soul to someone like me?”

  “You’re not ev—”

  “Yes or no!”

  “Yes!” I screamed back. “Yes, Dylan. I love you. You’re the first man I’ve ever wanted. You’re the only one I’ll ever want again.”

  “I have nothing to give you.”

  Moronic man. I slipped beneath his arm and wrapped mine around his waist, taking some of his weight off his right leg. The connection within me imploded. I was sexy again. Confident. I was a woman who was okay being herself. “This is all I need from you.” I held him tighter.

  He slung his arm around my shoulders and sighed. “Hillary. I—” He growled. “What do you say to making one more deal?”

  It was my turn to hesitate. One more deal meant longer in his presence, and as much as I wanted that, I knew I’d suffer later when we were separated. But I loved Dylan. I think I fell in love with him the moment I awoke after my attack and heard someone screaming as loud as me, heard his pain in my heart; when our fears existed in the same room, was the exact second a part of me had attached itself to him. The connection was emotional before I’d even understood what was happening. To meet someone who knew my insides meant I’d never have to spill my guts. I could hurt because he knew it. My pain was safe to feel, and in doing so it could also heal. So I gave in, one more time to one more deal. “I’d say it’s been hell without you these past weeks and I’d do anything to have you for a few more.”

  He pulled me to a stop outside of the prison that housed my father and held my face between his strong, protective hands. His eyes leaked, making me think he hadn’t been telling me the complete truth. No one can look at you like that; like their darkness is bleeding and you were the only light they’d ever have unless they felt something more.

  “You come live with us. With Bach and Harley, and with Aubrey and me. You can have my bed. You get your shit together, because I need to get my shit together too. We get our shit together, together. I need your help to do that. Will you help me, baby? I want to kiss this sweet, good mouth every day because I couldn’t breathe without you. I’m sorry I lied. You came into my life, and I wouldn’t change that for anything. You were the best part of coming home. I didn’t tell you to go for me. I told you to go for you. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

  “But you did.”

  “But I did.”

  “I needed you. Was that stupid of me?” I looked away. I had to. His eyes and my eyes connecting meant falling deeper. I still needed my safe zone. I probably always would. “I can’t tell.”

  “I’m sorry,” he begged, holding me tenderly. But the look in his eyes looked like blue fire. “Are you telling me no?”

  “I’m telling you that if I agree to this deal, what I am supposed to do when you decide you’re done making them? I have to do what’s right for me.” I stared at his chest through his shirt. He was wearing that cologne. I wanted to press my nose to him and inhale, hold his scent inside so I could breathe it in when he let me go. The thought spread slowly until I was screaming at my own self. Take the damn deal! But I was better than a temporary promise. I wanted something stronger, a promise that did not need words.

  He grabbed my chin and lifted it, forcing my eyes on his. “Whatever you wanted, remember? I’ll give you whatever you want. Tell me what you want, Hillary.”

  “I want … to meet my dad, and then I want to go home with you and my brother and figure out how to start living again. I just want to live again, Dylan. I feel like I’ve been stuck in this nightmare for months.” I knew I’d be stuck there until I figured out how to free myself. No one else would free me, but me. No one would call my name or break the door down. I would crawl from that bed in my skirt and open the door myself. I would smile because I deserved to. I would let my nightmares exist in the darkness because I deserved the light. I would save myself because I deserved to feel safe. “I want free of that night.”

  He bent to kiss the tears that trailed down my face. His lips caressed my cheek as he spoke. “I want that too. But I feel guilty for wanting that. For wanting this.” His lips trailed beneath mine, teasing my chin. “I don’t know what to do. Damage you or protect you?”

  “Damage me, Dylan,” I begged, and pressed my lips to his.

  It took one second.

  One life-altering second to fall for this man. When our fears collided so did our souls. They were intertwined, like the barbed wire atop the prison chain fences. Sharp and painful and perfectly protecting. A wall between the hurt we’ve suffered. A safe place to take a breath and not fear the monsters. His lips created a fog I missed so much. Within this fog, I was a woman who was coveted for all the right reasons. How I felt was my choice. And I felt safe.

  With Dylan, I would always be safe.

  I kept him upright, and he kissed my hair before I was searched, poked, and prodded. After we were administered the rules, we were seated amongst the other visitors in a cold, sterile room. The entire prison remin
ded me of a tin, metal can. Hollow, empty, and entrapping. Dylan grabbed my hand and held on when I kept cracking my knuckles. I shrunk away from the man sitting across from us, staring at me intently. There were so many men around me. I’d been avoiding people in general, and now I was in the monster’s den. A breeding ground for darkness. I slid closer to Dylan and grabbed his arm, holding on as tight as I could.

  He looked down at me, and I peeked at him. “No one will hurt you.”

  “They might.”

  “Not with me around. I may not be able to do the tango, but I can still kick some ass.”

  For the first time in weeks, I giggled. “You tango?”

  He shrugged, fighting his own smile. “I get jiggy with it, if that’s what you mean.”

  My mouth made a sound that I’d missed so much it almost brought tears to my eyes. My laughter pinged off the cold walls, catching a few disgruntled stares. To muffle it, I pressed my lips to his shoulder. “And I’m the nerd?”

  His lips lifted, and he winked. “You have nerd qualities. Have you ever gotten anything lower than a C?”

  I scuffed. “Mom would have killed me if I got anything less than a B+.” At the mention of my mother my smile fell. She wasn’t taking my plans well. If I told her about seeing my father, she would’ve locked me in my room forever and sealed the windows until I was too old to ever leave her again.

  “C’s were my A’s,” he continued. “So technically I was an A+ student. Bach was the smart one, although he’d just fart into his beer bottle whenever I pointed it out.”

  I gaped at him. “I wasn’t aware farting into beer bottles was an academic achievement.”

  With a soft smile, he leaned forward and kissed the space between my eyes. “That’s because you’re too cute to fart.”

  My skin heated. “Dylan.”

  “I bet they sound like a bell toll and sprinkles shoot out of that full round ass like we’re at a birthday party.”

  “No such thing happens.”

  He was on the edge of laughing. It was odd to be able to find something amusing while my world fell apart. That’s what this man did. He lifted my lips when I couldn’t remember what smiling felt like.

  “You’re ridiculous.”

  “Maybe,” he allowed. “But you’re not upset anymore, so I’ll take it. Are you nervous?”

  I nodded, resting on him. “If I think too hard about it I’ll run. I can’t run away. I have to meet him at least once. After that, he can be what he’s always been. A painful myth.”

  “When we get home I’m going to do my best to make you forget.”

  “How?” I wondered, because I already wanted to.

  “First, I’m going to take your clothes off. I’ve been dreaming about your body for weeks. I’ll leave your panties on because they’re probably boy shorts, aren’t they?”

  “Mhm.”

  “What color?”

  “Pink.”

  “Of course they are. I’d leave them on and lay you down. I’d want them wet first. Soaking wet before I took them off. I’d tease you until I could smell your want, until I couldn’t help myself, and then I’d make you watch as I took them off. You want me to take them off?”

  “All the way off.”

  “After they were I’d open your legs wide so I can see your golden pussy.” His words were this quiet deep whisper in my brain.

  “Do you like my hair?” I’d never thought of shaving.

  “Don’t interrupt me.” His lips kissed my forehead. “And yes. I love it. I’d put your legs on my shoulders before I tasted you. You’d be creamy for me, wouldn’t you?”

  I scrunched up my nose. “Creamy? Dylan—”

  “Yes or no?”

  “Of course I would. I am right now.” I squirmed to relieve the desire tingling between my thighs. My panties were probably damp.

  “You’re always such a good girl. Always be my good girl. Always,” he pleaded, whispering his demand straight to my brain. “May I continue?”

  “Hurry.”

  “Your pussy would be creamy, dripping, soaking wet because of me. I’d clean that up first before I tasted where it came from. Tease that tight pussy before I tasted your—”

  “Hillary Hayes and Dylan Meyer!”

  Both our heads snapped up from our sexy, intoxicating bubble. I was thrust back to reality. I wasn’t sure I liked it there.

  With a fiery blush, I helped Dylan to his feet.

  “Come with me,” the guard said, expression empty, uniform starched, gun on his hip. “Do not touch the inmate. If you do your hour will be cut short, and I will escort you out. Have a seat.” He waved a hand in the visiting room. “They’ll be out shortly.”

  This was really happening.

  Nineteen years spent wanting this man.

  Wanting a man who gave me nothing.

  Hurt my brother.

  Used my mother.

  What was I doing here?

  I lost my cool just as a man came into the room. He was tall, like Bach. He had dark brown hair, like Bach. He was devastatingly handsome, like Bach. With a strong jaw peppered with stubble and eyes so sea green they looked fluorescent, like Bach. Standing before me was the most stunning monster I’d ever met. It made me think that he was a predator. A stunning trap to lure good people in.

  And he looked just like me minus our hair.

  When he saw me, he blinked, the way I would at a complete and utter stranger. He looked around the room and then kept going, searching for his daughter.

  “Over here, dipshit.” Dylan glared so profusely at my father it chilled my blood. “The beautiful blond.”

  My dad chuckled, this deep gravely sound.

  I was hearing my dad’s voice. Instead of warming me it chilled me.

  “Mitch know you talk like that, boy?”

  I leaned over and puked. All over the prison visiting room floor. His accent was thick dark and country. A ghost story whispered around a campfire at night.

  “Happy to see you too, baby doll.”

  I retched as he sat down across from me.

  “What’s up, Tyler?” There was no warmth in Dylan’s greeting.

  “Oh, you know. Inmate in this fine prison. Keep up the good work boys.” I raised my head in time to watch him give the guard a thumbs’ up.

  Our eyes locked. I saw no love in them. No joy. Nothing except a small glimmer of curiosity and gross disinterest.

  He raised his eyebrow after a few seconds. “You ever hear you got one hell of a pair of eyes.”

  I sat there immobile, trapped.

  “Let me help you out, Tyler. ‘Hello, Hillary’ would work.”

  Tyler—because he wasn’t my father—grinned. “You know where Pat got that name?”

  I shook my head, caught.

  Don’t say it.

  “I picked it out.”

  I stared, breaking.

  “Because it’s my mom’s name. Want to know why I picked her?”

  No.

  He leaned forward and whispered. “I didn’t love her either. Is that why you’re here? Because you think I care? You ever wonder why I haven’t contacted you?”

  “Whelp, that lasted longer than I thought it would. Let’s go, Hill.” Dylan started to rise.

  “No. It’s all right.” I looked my father in the eye. “I’ve waited nineteen years for this. Shut your mouth while I talk.”

  Tyler raised one eyebrow but heeded my warning.

  “My name is Hillary because it’s my name. It’s a beautiful name because of me, not you. Second of all, I don’t love you either. I could never love a monstrous, drug addict, abuser who hurt my brother and my mother and who knows who else. Third, don’t call my mother Pat. You don’t know her. Don’t pretend you do. Fourth, thank you. Thank you for being the piece of shit you are because my mother did her best to make me better. She succeeded. I. Am. Amazing. And it isn’t thanks to you. And last, I forgive myself for ever wanting you.”

  Tyler Bachmen yawned and sat b
ack, glancing at the vending machine. “You bring any money?”

  “My turn,” Dylan spoke up. “Bach—” His head snapped up. “Yeah, you remember your son? The one you beat? The one who you tried to kill? The same Bach who survived? My best damn friend? He won. He beat you worse than you ever beat him. He is a better man than you will ever be. He got out, he’ll get married, he’ll have kids, he’ll be the best damn father, because you weren’t. While you rot like the disgusting worthless demon you are, he’ll live.”

  Tyler’s eyes filled with a spark of emotion.

  It wasn’t guilt or sadness. It was pure, unadulterated rage. It was watching a demon shed his skin and show the world his darkness.

  “Where is that pathetic little shit?”

  “Bach is not pathetic. You are. You are the only shit in this room.”

  Tyler sat back and scratched his jaw, looking so much like my brother and I it made me sad. But looks were looks. A physical attribute did not make you better or less; this proved it. I clung to my features, wanting so much to look like this man. It wasn’t a choice to look the way we looked, but it was our choice to be the way we were. I would take my face, but that’s it. That’s all I’d take from this man. Everything else I had was from my mother, and that was far more beautiful.

  “I spent all my life wanting you,” I informed him. “But I won’t spend the rest of it doing the same thing. Let’s go, Dylan.”

  “Tell Bach my only mistake was not watching to make sure he burned!” he called, cackling like the lifeless spawn he was.

  We gave no reply.

  Together Dylan and I walked out of that prison together. He held my hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the back of it. “You okay?”

  I nodded, eyes on the horizon. “I will be.”

  “I know,” he said. “You want to know why?”

  “Why?”

  “Because everything you said was true. You’re amazing, Hillary. You’re good when people are bad. You’re sweet when no one else was. You’re the strongest woman I know, even if you don’t think you are. You are one of the most stunning people I’ve ever met, and I’m so thankful you chose my lap to fall on.”

  My heart expunged my father from my soul, and in its place was a chance to love someone who might actually love me back.