Purely Wicked: The Moore Cousins

by Abby Brooks

  “How can you settle for something this simple?”

  She bristles. “I don’t feel like I'm settling.”

  “My parents settled. They settled for a stale relationship. They settled for a small house and a small life. They settled for small dreams that disintegrated into bitterness. I don't want that for me. I don't want it for you. And I sure as hell don't want it for Georgia.”

  “Isn’t the whole reason you came back in the first place because you thought it’d be better for Georgia?”

  I nod. Once. This isn’t at all how I saw this conversation going. I thought Ashley would be excited to leave this place behind in favor of bigger and better things. “Yep,” I say, bobbing my head and watching the storm rage offshore. “I left because I didn't want the city to make her hard. Because I was afraid New York would make her too much like her mother.”

  “And what makes you think anything will be different now?”

  “This time she'll have you.”

  Ashley studies me, emotions battling across her face. Her lips part and tears gleam in her eyes. And yet, the corners of her mouth twitch up into a smile. “I love the idea of a life with you,” she says, her voice heavy and weighted.

  “Then come with me.”

  She shakes her head, wraps her arms around her stomach—clutching her sides like she’s afraid her insides might fall out—and looks out over the ocean as lightning slices through the clouds in the distance. “Do you know I used to daydream about being your wife? Back when we were in school? I would write my first name followed by your last name. Ashley Moore.”

  I hear goodbye in her voice and it’s got my heart racing because I’m not really sure where we went wrong. “Ashley…” I begin.

  She holds up her hands. “You're right, Jackson. I'm simple and I'm sweet. My life is here. I don't want to go to the city. I don't want to raise my children where I can't take a deep breath of clean air. I don't want to live in an apartment that's so small I can't move. I don't want to step outside into throngs of people. I want my wide open spaces and I want things to be safe and familiar. But I’m afraid you’ll always crave more. That you’ll always feel like you’re settling for Bliss.”

  I don’t know what to say and I can tell she really doesn’t either. Another flash of lightning streaks across the skies and Georgia shrieks and runs to me as thunder rolls towards us. Without another word, I scoop up my little Bug and Ashley grabs her bucket as we run back to the house, silence wedged between us.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It’s a hard thing, getting everything you ever wanted only to discover you don’t get to keep it. Just as I got comfortable in this life with Jackson, he throws a curve ball like New York at me. We try to fall into our old patterns, but each time I crawl into bed with him at night, I’m aware my happiness might have an expiration date. This life with him that felt so safe and so stable, turns out I was just borrowing it. With each day, our happiness feels more and more tenuous, and I start to build a wall back up around my heart.

  When Georgia asks for bedtime stories, I remind myself that she is not mine. I curl up beside her and tell her stories of knights in shining armor, of princesses rescued from dragons, fairy tales that always end in a happily ever after. Am I doing her a disservice by filling her head up with nonsense like this? Will she believe there’s a prince out there who will swoop into her life with a fanfare of trumpets and butterflies and everything will fall into place?

  Because Jackson won’t take rent money, I’ve got more money than I ever had in my life. I could easily rent an apartment and put a down payment on a car. If I wanted to, I could start building my own life, something that is one hundred percent mine. I’m just not ready to give up on the fairy tale. Because right now, Jackson is my prince. But I’m afraid if I leave him, or he leaves me, my heart will shatter and break and I’ll have to admit that he truly is wicked.

  And so, we fall into a holding pattern. I smile and he jokes. We drive to work together and come home together but there’s a space between us that wasn’t there before. The walls go up around his heart just like the walls go up around mine. I recognize it because we truly are twin souls. We’re shutting each other out. Putting on a fake smile and ignoring the hard stuff. A week passes and he doesn’t bring up New York again. As much as I’d like to think it’s because he’s decided to stay, I know it’s because he’s avoiding the inevitable conflict.

  Jackson hired Aria to close the place down three nights a week so we could spend more time at home. Tonight’s one of those nights, so we’re on our way back to the house with a whole lot of time to sit awkwardly next to each other. We’re quiet in the car on the way to pick up Georgia from Diane, both of us lost in our thoughts. When Jackson’s phone vibrates with an incoming text, it startles us both.

  “Will you see who that is?” he asks, handing the thing to me.

  I slide open the notification and read. “Diane wants to see if Georgia can spend the night. She’ll bring her to us in the morning.”

  Jackson nods and asks me to let Diane know that would be fine. As I swipe my fingers across the screen, the dull ache of finality settles over me. Just a few days ago, Jackson would have made comments about how many screaming orgasms I’d have now that we have the house to ourselves. Instead, he runs a hand through his hair and clears his throat before giving me a wry smile and a weak thank you.

  Something inside me hollows out, like my insides cave in, no longer supported by the strength he gave me. Tears prick at my eyes and I turn away, only to come to a decision. I cannot let this man slip through my fingers. Not again. If he won’t fight for us, then damn it, I will. I know he wants me. I know he loves me. There’s no denying it. No ignoring the sadness that has tinged his smile since the moment I told him I didn’t want to move to New York.

  He pulls the car into the garage and heads inside on autopilot. I follow behind, intending to pour us some wine and invite him out onto the deck. We’ll sit on the porch as the sun kisses the horizon, setting the sky on fire. I’ll pour my heart out to him, show him what he means to me. What I mean to him. We’ll talk through the night if we have to and come to a conclusion about who we are and why we’re good together and how we’ll stay together.

  The moment we step into the kitchen, Jackson whirls. He grabs my arms, his grip almost too tight. His eyes are haunted, chasing down a million thoughts I have no right to think I understand, and yet I do.

  “I love you, Ashley.” His voice is low and thick. It scrapes against his throat as if he had to force the words out of hiding. “I always have. And I always will.”

  His words startle my tears awake. They waver in my eyes before they drip down my cheeks. “I love you, too.”

  His admission reaches down into my core and stirs the most vital part of me. I should want to celebrate, and yet I don’t. Somehow, I feel like he’s pushing me away at the same time he’s drawing me close.

  “I want a life with you.” Intensity tightens his voice.

  “Me, too,” I whisper.

  I want to tell him he’s my everything. That I’d move to New York with him if I truly thought it had what he’s looking for. The thing is, I think everything he wants is right here. In us. In him. He just needs to stop looking for the answer outside of himself and look inwards.

  Running to New York won’t solve anything because the problem is inside. He’s carried it with him for years. A desperation to avoid what he was, to shed his old skin in favor of something better. A belief that he is inherently broken and doesn’t deserve the love and happiness he desires.

  How can I get him to understand that it’s all right here? It’s him and me. It’s Georgia. It’s Frank and Diane. It’s his cousins and their children. It’s the history we have in this place. All he has to do is open his damn eyes and see that it’s all right here for him.

  Jackson swallows hard. “Don’t leave me, Ashley.”

  I know what I have to do. I know what I want to say. I need to be raw and hon
est with him. Vulnerable and open. My lips part as I sort through the myriad words that come tumbling up my throat, each of them eager to be the one that makes all the difference.

  A crash and clatter from outside interrupts me just as I decide to speak. Jackson whips his gaze to the windows at the front of the house, his eyes hardening. “Stay here,” he orders and stalks to the door, pausing only to pick up the baseball bat leaning next to the garage.

  As he flings open the front door and disappears outside, my heart trips against my ribcage. Jackson lets loose a string of curse words and someone else laughs low and humorlessly. Outrage seethes up from my gut. What the hell is Cain doing here?

  There’s a grunt, some more shouting, the sounds of a scuffle. Propelled forward by instinct, I race through the front door. Jackson has Cain pinned face down in the driveway, his knee jammed into his back.

  “You’re lucky I don’t beat the shit out of you once and for all,” Jackson growls, yanking back on Cain’s arms.

  “What the hell?” I stare down at the men, shocked.

  “Get back in the house, Ashley,” says Jackson, glowering down at the man I once thought loved me.

  Our trashcans are knocked over, the contents strewn across the driveway. I step off the porch and find the words lazy cunt scrawling across the side of the house in bright red spraypaint. My jaw falls open and my stomach drops off a cliff. How is this even my life right now?

  “Why are you doing this to me?” I ask, stepping down off the porch.

  Cain starts to answer, but Jackson presses his knee even harder into his back.

  “Just go inside and call the police.” Jackson looks up at me, rage contorting his face. While I know it’s not aimed at me, anxiety surges under the surface of my skin, skittering like an electric current through my muscles and bones. It’s a snake wandering up my spine, clamping down between my shoulders, tension and fear overwriting all the thoughts I’d had of talking Jackson into staying here and building a life with me.

  When I come with baggage like this, why in the world would he want to stay? Of course, the rational side of me is busy trying to catch my own attention, to remind myself that I am worth more to him than the side of his cousin’s house. That we’ll have those hateful words covered up with fresh paint before Georgia gets home tomorrow. Thing is, my rational side isn’t very big right now. I go inside and call the police and as I explain what happened, I become more and more certain that Jackson is going to leave no matter what. That Cain’s temper tantrum was enough to push him over the edge. That it doesn’t matter if I changed my mind about New York, I’m going to have to make peace with life minus Jackson and Georgia.

  When the police arrive, they take our statement and haul Cain off in a pair of handcuffs. He glares at me from the back of the cop car and I can’t believe I used to think this man loved me. There’s nothing but hatred in his eyes. It makes me sad. Not because of any leftover feelings for Cain, just that someone could house something so dark and ugly inside them. That I lived with him for so long and all we have to show for it is rage and anger and regret. It feels so much like the way my mom used to look at my dad and it makes me want to crumple in on myself.

  “Is this just what all relationships become?” I ask Jackson as he helps me back inside. “Are love and hate so finely balanced on the same fine line of passion, that anger and bitterness is inevitable?” I hang my head, closing my eyes. Without the allure of love, of twin souls finding each other and leaving the stress of everyday life behind, what else is there to look forward to?

  Jackson draws me in, touches his finger to my chin and lifts my face to his. “No, Ashley. It’s not.”

  “But how do you know? How do you look at people like your parents, and my parents, and Cain? How do you see stuff like that and believe there’s anything different out there?”

  “A few months ago, I would have told you it was because of my aunt and uncle. That I could believe in love because I had seen what they have together. But now…” Jackson lowers his face to mine, threads his fingers up into my hair. “I believe in love because of you.” His words whisper past my lips and end in a kiss.

  I breathe him in, press my body to his, eager for his touch after this week of distance. My soul soars as his hands travel my body, his lips tasting mine. Our kiss grows frantic, hands tearing at clothes, nothing but the whispers of fabric against skin and our deep inhalations to mark the passing of time. In the past, Jackson and I have fucked. Each of us exploring the limitations of each other’s passions and curiosity. Tonight—as he carries me up to our room and stretches me out on our bed, as he slides himself into me, whispering my name and staring so deeply into my eyes that I know I’m lost—we make love. Tonight we make promises to each other, his hips rolling and thrusting into me, my lips parting and my back arching.

  “I love you,” he says, leaning down to kiss my throat. My jaw. My lips. He plunges into me, filling me so full that I’ll never feel empty again. “You are my everything.”

  “I love you, Jackson.” My words fall from trembling lips and as tears well in my eyes and roll down my cheek, I come. An explosion of emotion and pleasure, raw and intimate, and Jackson spills his seed inside me, pressing his forehead to mine and whispering my name against my skin.

  Chapter Fourteen

  That night with Cain is the last straw. It proves to me how much I love Ashley, how deep my need to protect her runs. Which is good, I think. I mean, it should be good. Except the urge to get out of Bliss is almost a need. I don’t want her here where that asshole can show up whenever he wants.

  I found an apartment in New York. It’s not small by New York standards, not even a little. There’s a garden on the roof, modern amenities, floor to ceiling windows in the living room that look out over the skyline. It may not be the wide open spaces she thinks she needs, but it’s pretty fucking close. And the thing is, if I can get back into Wall Street, then she won’t even have to work. She can stay home and raise our family. We can create our own branch of the Moore family tree, strong and stable and out of reach of anyone who wants to hurt her.

  The problem is Ashley’s need to please people, especially the people she loves. It’s so strong, it’s almost dangerous. Too easy to take advantage of. If I tell her I want her to come with me, if I keep pushing the issue after she stood up for herself like she did the other night, she’ll say yes just to please me. Just to avoid the conflict.

  I don’t want that. I want her to come with me because she wants to. Because she believes in a life with me in the same way I believe in a life with her.

  I can hear her in Georgia’s bathroom, the two of them singing away while Ash does Bug’s hair. It warms my heart and sets my nerves on fire because I’m gambling on her love for me. When I tell her about the apartment, when I tell her that Georgia and I are leaving and wait for her to say she wants to come with me, it’s a roll of the dice. The chips will fall where they may and I don’t know if I’m ready for what comes next.

  “Daddy!” Bug comes barreling down the hallway, her pigtails bouncing as she clomps towards me. “Wait ‘til you see Ashley,” she says. “I made her so pretty.” She beams up at me and I scoop her into my arms. I will always melt for my sweet, awkward Bug.

  “Are you ready for this?” Ashley calls, peeking out into the hallway.

  Georgia spins in my arms to look into my eyes. “Are you, Daddy?”

  “Am I ever.”

  Ashley steps out from the bathroom, hands on her hips, and pivots like a model on the catwalk. Her hair is gathered in what looks like one hell of a painfully executed ponytail, a big clump of hair locked up in a rubber band. Strands of her hair fall free as she moves. But the real treat is when she finishes her spin and looks me full in the face.

  “I did her makeup!” Georgia squirms out of my arms and thumps down the hallway to grab Ashley’s hand before pulling her forward and depositing her in front of me. Ashley giggles and shakes her head as my eyes go wide. Her lips are a viol
ent red, the color extending down onto her chin and out towards her cheeks. When she smiles, I see it’s even on her teeth. Bug has painted her eyelids a deep purple, surely inspired by the color of her bathroom walls. Her eyelashes are clumped together with something thick and black.

  Ashley bats her eyelashes. “Don’t I look fantastic?” she asks.

  “Utterly astounding,” I reply, trying to stifle the laughter I know would only hurt Georgia’s feelings.

  “Take our picture, Daddy.” Bug pulls Ashley down to crouch beside her and wraps her tiny arms around Ashley’s shoulders. They press their cheeks together and grin as I pull my phone out of my pocket and snap a picture.

  “That’s one to remember forever, that’s for sure.” I put the phone back in my pocket and help Ashley to her feet. “Hey Bug, why don’t you go play in your room so I can talk to Ashley.”

  Without a word, Georgia scampers off to her room, pausing only to blow us a kiss over her shoulder before pulling the door closed.

  “That sounded awfully serious,” Ashley says the moment she’s gone.

  “Nothing is serious with you looking like that.” I lead her into the kitchen and hand her a paper towel. “You’ll be tasting lipstick for at least a week.”

  “Probably. But it was worth it. She had a lot of fun.” Ashley smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes. She’s worrying, anxious over whatever I have to say that required alone time.

  Better to rip the bandage off rather than prolong the pain, right?

  “I found an apartment in New York.”

  Ashley pauses in her efforts to wipe the lipstick off her cheeks and chin. It’s just a small pause in the movement. A hiccup, if anything. And then her eyes go flat. “Oh, yeah?” Her voice is toneless. Dead.