Shattered by You

by Nashoda Rose

  He re-adjusted his hat that didn’t need re-adjusting then shifted to perch up on the back of the seat. “Come on, let’s get you driving.”

  “Okay.” I slid onto the hard seat and was instantly aware of his thighs next to my shoulders and my head close to his abdomen, and therefore cock. I swallowed as the sensation in my sex intensified and I clenched, which only made it worse.

  He leaned forward, his chest up against my back and my breath hitched. “You need to press down the clutch with this leg.” He put his hand on my thigh to indicate which one and I nearly shot out of the seat. “Whoa, what’s wrong with you? You’re all jumpy and shit.”

  “I’m fine. Just nervous.” I added, “To drive.” But, I wasn’t nervous about driving. I was nervous of him, because what I was feeling was more than I knew how to handle.

  Crisis was taking this seriously, so I tried to ignore what my body was doing and pressed the pedal like he said.

  “Now, turn the key. But don’t let go of the clutch until it starts.”

  I looked around for the key and saw it in the ignition to the right of the steering wheel. The mower started easily and I was giddy as it vibrated underneath me.

  “The gears are a little tricky for timing,” he explained. His chest rubbed against me again as he showed me the three gears. “The brake is on the other side, but if you stop completely, you need to press the clutch at the same time or it will stall.”

  Too much information, but I learned to shoot a gun from merely watching Olaf with his, for Christ’s sake. This couldn’t be too hard. Clutch. Gear. Gas. That was all I had to remember.

  “Okay, let’s go, sweetness.” His hands rested lightly on my shoulders and, normally, I hated hands on my shoulders. But Crisis’ hands were steady and calming—reassuring. I pressed the clutch, and jammed the gear into first. “Not so rough. It should slide right in.”

  Oh, damn. I pictured him above me, his cock sliding in and there was nothing vile about it. I abruptly let go of the clutch and the mower violently jerked.

  “Fuck,” Crisis shouted.

  I turned around to see Crisis on his butt on the grass behind the mower, his hand to his cheek. I bit my lip to stop from laughing, but a giggle and smile did escape as I looked at the cocky rock star on his ass looking a little dazed.

  I realized that the mower was getting further away from him as it continued to creep forward.

  “Crisis.” I cranked on the steering wheel with both hands, turning it as far as it would go as it puttered straight for the stable wall. It was a slow crawl but, slow or not, it would still crash into a wall. I looked down at the two pedals and the gear. Crap, I forgot what he said about stopping.

  “Crisis? How do I stop it?” There was a loud grinding sound as the mower scrapped the side of the barn.

  He appeared beside the mower and my eyes widened when I saw the big red mark on his cheekbone. “Knee to the face when I went over backwards. Anyone asks, I’m telling them you punched me,” he said. I bit my lip smiling. He kept pace with the mower and grinned. “You sure know how to knock a guy off his feet.”

  I rolled my eyes and he laughed. He hopped up onto the mower and brushed against me as he slid in behind to perch up on the backrest again. “Okay, let’s get driving this piece of junk.”

  His finger brushed back my hair from my neck and goose bumps played havoc along my skin. I wanted to turn around and look at him to see if he noticed, but I was afraid of him seeing what was raging through me.

  “Second gear it, baby.”

  The muscles in my face ached by the time I drove the lawn mower back to the shed an hour later. And it was from smiling. It may have been just a lawn mower, but it was a step toward what I was searching for—control over my own life. A sense of normality. And freedom. I ran my finger over the words scorched into my wrist and I don’t know if he noticed what I was doing, but he gently took my hand in his.

  “You’ll get there.”

  I was uncertain what he meant by that, if it had deeper meaning than just a reference to learning to drive. But it didn’t matter; it was the right thing to say, and even better was that he didn’t say anything more.

  We walked out of the shed, and Crisis let my hand go and kissed the top of my head. “In a couple days, we can move up to the tractor.”

  “Wouldn’t it be easier to start with a car?”

  Crisis chuckled and threw his arm around my shoulders. “Fuck yeah.”

  I scrunched up my nose and subtly inched out of the embrace. I liked his arm around me and I was fast realizing that I liked a lot of things about Crisis. And becoming involved with a rock star who was constantly on social media was a hard limit. “Then why are we doing this?”

  His steps were long compared to mine and I took two to his one even though he was walking slowly. I glanced up at him just as the warm breeze shifted across us and lifted a curl of his hair and caused it to dance across his face for a second. It was cute when he frowned and annoyingly pushed it behind his ear where it fell forward again.

  “I’m sure Ream will let me use his car if you don’t want me driving yours.”

  I hated when he procured that little smirk because there was always a reason behind it that revolved around his ability to make my heart pitter-patter and the temperature in my body go up two degrees.

  “Do you have to have a reason to do everything? It’s fun.”

  I frowned. “So you’re teaching me to drive on a lawnmower because it’s fun?”

  “Sure.” He shrugged then jerked his head toward the car pulling into the driveway. “Ream’s back.”

  I looked up at the house and saw the car pulling in. I was excited to see Ream again, but a little uneasy too. The triggers had escalated and I didn’t want Ream to witness them. Running helped, maybe because I exhausted my body until it had no energy left to freak out.

  “Aren’t you nervous about what he’ll say? He was pissed that you and Kite hadn’t moved out.”

  He laughed and nudged my shoulder with his own. “Nah. Ream can throw a punch, but he’s my brother. Not much will ruin what we have.” His hand lightly touched the small of my back as he slowed his step. “When he first came to live with us, he’d wake up in the night screaming your name.”

  I jerked to a stop as coldness washed over me, but Crisis’ hand on my back gently urged me forward again.

  “I confronted him about it, asked him who you were; he wouldn’t say anything. Instead, the fucker hit me a good one right across the jaw. Never punched him back. Couldn’t do it. Jesus, he looked so fuckin’ haunted. Didn’t talk about you, though, and it took him six months before he slept through the night. I think it was the music that finally helped. He connected to it, you know?”

  I nodded. I did know because music helped me too. We were separated, but the ironic part was music was our one connection which helped us both. I hated to think of Ream those months after he thought I was dead, but in a way, it was probably better than him knowing I was in Alexa and Olaf’s grasp. He’d have died trying to get me back, and there was no question, Olaf would’ve put a bullet in his head, especially with the amount of money I ended up making him.

  I heard car doors shut then footsteps strode toward us.

  Ream, who was approaching, chin-nodded to us. Crisis was completely relaxed and I couldn’t help but feed off his energy. It was comforting and I realized that despite Crisis being the attention seeker and the player, he had composure in him that I craved. Even when he texted me, he was straight up with whatever was on his mind even if it was maybe silly to some.

  “Don’t tell him,” I said. Crisis glanced at me, his head tilting down, a questioning look in his eyes. “About the episodes yesterday. I don’t know what triggered them, but . . .” I decided to give him something, a sliver of me. “He protected me and I screwed it up.” Crisis opened his mouth and I glared; he shut it again. “I don’t want him living with the guilt of what happened to me. Because he will. He can’t help it. It’s
in his make up to protect me, has been his job all his life and now it’s mine to set him free from it. So, I don’t want him to know. I don’t want that on him.”

  “Shit, Haven.” He sighed, the dimples in his cheeks gone, brows low over his eyes. “I’d never tell anyone, okay?” I nodded then went to ask him about Kite when he said, “Kite won’t either, but I’ll talk to him just in case.” His hand on the small of my back shifted slightly and tingles shot up through my spine. “Do you trust me, baby?”

  Did I? Yes, I thought so, but trust was easily broken.

  His hand gently rubbed my back, soothing and . . . sexual. Maybe he didn’t mean it to be, but it was. Goose bumps popped up all across my skin and my heart pumped madly. I didn’t even want to consider what was happening between my legs because this wasn’t just a clench. It was way more than that.

  I knew how to lock down everything, but this . . . the desire for Crisis was intensifying and I didn’t know how to stop it.

  My brother’s shoulders were tense and his lips pursed together as he walked across the yard. “He looks pissed.”

  “Yep. Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing compared to when I hit on Kat. That was pissed.”

  “You hit on Kat?” I asked.

  “Fuck yeah, Ream was being a pussy and not claiming her. I helped him out.”

  I didn’t have time to respond as my brother stopped in front of us. “What the hell, man?” Ream said. “I told you I didn’t want you anywhere near my sister. One day. One fuckin’ day and you’re all over her.”

  Crisis completely ignored his outburst. “You going to say hi to your sister?”

  Ream grunted then his scowl lifted and his eyes softened. “Haven, hon. You okay?” My brother’s hands were curled into fists. I reached out and wrapped my hand around his, and instantly he relaxed. He dragged me into his arms and gave me a hug. “How’s school?”

  Despite loving my brother, I was still uneasy being held in his arms. He was my twin and there’d always been a strong connection between us. I was afraid of what he’d find if I got too close. I’d always been the little angel, until I screwed that up. “It’s school.”

  “What are you two doing out here?” Ream asked his tone tight.

  “Crisis is teaching me to drive.”

  “Drive?” he repeated, looking from Crisis back to me again.

  I glanced over my shoulder at the garage where the lawn mower sat. “Yeah. We’re starting small.”

  Ream was quiet.

  Crisis chuckled. “Your sister is a natural with the lawnmower.”

  I bit my lip to stop from smiling, but Ream noticed my reaction because he got that look, like when we were kids and he would get all sweet and nudge me on the tip of my nose with his finger. He hadn’t done that since we were kids. “Lawnmower?”

  I nodded. “He thought it was . . .” I hesitated. Fun?

  “Safety first,” Crisis finished.

  Ream’s eyes narrowed as he looked from me to Crisis and back again. “Nothing better be happening here. I’m serious, Crisis.”

  Crisis put up his hands. “Bro, she’s my . . . sister.”

  Ream snorted. “By association and a fuck of a flimsy association.”

  “Yeah, well, Mom might have something to say about that. Haven is part of the family now. And she is going to have a shit fit when she sees that new tat on your neck.”

  Ream huffed. “She won’t even notice it when she’s busy bitching about your hair. Fuckin’ cut the locks, man.”

  “I like his hair.” Why did I just say that? My brother’s eyes widened, appearing startled by my comment. Damn it, I was startled by my comment. “I’m going to . . . the clothes need to go in the wash,” I quickly added and headed for the house.

  “You already did that,” Crisis yelled after me. I heard his chortle trail after me.

  Kat was in the kitchen when I came in the front door. She smiled and set her water on the counter then came straight for me. “Hey.” She grabbed my hands and squeezed them. “You look great. How’s school? And Hank? Has he been managing the horses okay? And Tear? Where is Tear?”

  Tear was Logan and Emily’s German Sheppard that lived on their farm, but when they traveled, he came and stayed with Hank. “I saw Hank drive out with him in his truck this morning so I assume he was taking him home.” He’d been laughing and shaking his head at Crisis and I on the lawnmower as he drove by.

  “Yeah, she’s crazy about that dog. Do you know she had Hank send her pics every day?” Kat and I chatted. Well, it was more like she chatted and I answered when necessary. When I managed to escape to my room, I changed into my work out clothes then snuck out the side door to go running until any emotion I had was exhausted and buried.

  I DROVE UP to my parents’ place an hour before everyone else was due to arrive. I’d searched around the house for Haven to ask her to ride with me, but she took off somewhere.

  The house sat on a cul-de-sac backing onto the golf course. It was a kick-ass house with a massive deck out back, five bedrooms and a state-of-the-art kitchen; one of my mom’s favorite things to do was cook. There was a pool table downstairs that Ream and I spent hours playing on, and yeah, I fucked a few chicks on it, too. I probably fucked a chick in every room in the house except my parents’—that was just gross.

  “Mom.” I hugged her as soon as she opened the door. She was the best, and had always supported my music. My dad did too, although, he used to grumble and complain about the noise. Admittedly, it was fuckin’ noise when I first started learning the guitar. But my dad soundproofed the garage so I could play as often as I wanted.

  She pulled back and clucked her tongue while smoothing back my hair like I was five years old. “Vincent! You need a haircut.”

  “Fuck that, Mom, chicks love the blond curls.” And Haven just said this morning she liked my hair.

  She rolled her eyes, but I think it was more due to my language than the chick referral.

  My mom was tall, five-foot-seven, and had slim narrow hips and legs with big feet. Yeah, it was one of those things that she’d been teased about when she was in high school. “Looking good. You trying to impress some hot guy other than Dad?” Her auburn hair had been highlighted with gentle blonde streaks and hung in a stylish bob.

  “Vincent Wesson.” She smacked me lightly on the chest. “I didn’t raise you to talk like that and I certainly didn’t raise you to be a prick to women.”

  I threw my head back laughing. “Prick? Really, Mom?”

  She huffed and strode into the kitchen, which opened into the living and dining area. “Yes. You’re a prick.” I followed after her, breathing in the heavenly smell of her homemade spaghetti sauce. “You think I don’t see Facebook?” Facebook, too? The posts on FB were not ones a mom should ever read. “Why don’t you take after your brother and find a nice girl and—”

  “Mom,” I groaned. Same old shit, ever since Ream and Kat hooked up last year. Now, she was on my case about settling down. I dipped my finger into the thick red sauce on the stove then stuck it in my mouth.

  “Vincent,” my mom shouted. “I don’t even want to think where those hands have been.”

  I grinned. “Yeah, good idea. Don’t think.”

  She attempted to slap my hand, but I ducked out of reach, laughing.

  “Son.” My dad strolled into the kitchen and shook my hand while squeezing one shoulder. “Back from the salt mines. How was the tour?”

  “Great.” Except for some Tammy chick, who was thinking she was going to marry me. I didn’t like having to cancel Seattle. Doing that to the fans sucked big time, but with the Tammy shit, my blow up at her and Luke’s phone call about Haven, it was enough. Kite was already talking to the manager about re-scheduling Seattle at least.

  My dad and I were the same height, although that was where our similarities ended. He had a slight paunch, and dark thick eyebrows, which matched the stubble on his face. He spoke eloquently and had poise, fitting the status he worked hard
to get to as one of the top condo developers in Toronto. Bottom-line, though, he was one hell of a good guy. Mom lived doing charity work and they had a yearly scholarship in their name at the University of Toronto’s business program.

  “Where’s your brother?” And that made me love my parents even more. They insisted on calling Ream their son and it was fuckin’ cool of them.

  I thought of Haven—when wasn’t I?—standoffish and keeping everyone at a distance. She was going to have a tough time doing that once my parents got their hooks into her.

  “Come on, son, leave your mother to cook. I want to hear about the tour.” I thought I was going to get away with it, until he added, “And why you’re back early.”

  Fuck.

  “Hon,” Mom called. “A girl called here for you yesterday.”

  “You didn’t give her my number did you?” I didn’t need any chicks getting my cell number.

  She rolled her eyes, tsking. “I’ve been filtering your calls for years, no. Of course not. She said she’d catch up with you later.”

  I kissed my mom on the cheek. “Cool, thanks, Mom.” Then I followed Dad out onto the large deck where the patio table was already set for dinner. Mom did the balloon thing like it was a kid’s birthday party and a welcome home banner strung above the sliding glass doors. Fuck, she rocked.

  Dad and I chatted about what went down with this Tammy chick following me around and sending me gifts. Well, I chatted, and he listened, brows drawn low over his eyes as he nodded and took it all in. Only after I was done did he say anything and that was, “You must take after me in the looks department. Girls can’t resist us.”

  I laughed because there was nothing further from the truth and we both knew it.

  Kite showed up an hour later, then Logan and Emily with Logan’s mom Isabelle. I leaned against the railing of the deck, nursing my beer while Logan and Kite told my dad about the business side of the band: the manager we fired, the security issues we encountered until six months ago when we hired Luke’s Shield Security, a recommendation from Deck, after Haven came back.