Hurt Like Me

by P. A. Brokenshire

  "Garret." She said my name with reverence, moving at a tortuously slow pace as her hands slipped into my hair. She tugged on it as she rode me.

  "Pull harder," I whispered, my chest heaving against hers. She complied, yanking my head back. Her lips placed feather soft kisses on my face, starting at my forehead and moving down my face, covering me in her comfort as her nails pressed into my skull.

  "Holy fuck." The world spun as she found her rhythm, her fiery hair falling around us as she ground her body on mine. This wasn't like last night, a quick demented fuck, or even like our first time when I had some sort of control. This was soft, deep, and powerful. Full of relief and kindness. Everywhere her lips touched was like cool aloe on a hot burn. My heart felt like it would explode with the intensity of it.

  When her lips finally met mine again it was with the softest touch and my dick twitched inside her, my balls felt like they were in a vice grip. I was going to cum and I knew she wasn't, but there was nothing I could do to stop the wave of ecstasy that rolled up from the tips of my toes.

  "Bite me, Avery. I want to feel your teeth when I cum."

  I didn't need to tell her twice though I would have begged if it had come to that. She pulled my head back even farther, feathering those same soft kisses down to my throat and I thought I would die from the anticipation. Her teeth sank into me and it was the best kind of pain. A chaser to all the praise. I pressed my fingers into her back as I came inside of her, chanting her name softly into the quiet room. The orgasm was so powerful that I became limp and the only thing keeping me sitting was Avery's tight hold.

  She didn't move, didn't speak, as I began to sob uncontrollably. My mind was silent, but my heart hurt. It felt like someone had taken a knife to it, like it was peeling. I was sick of myself, afraid that the silence wasn't going to last and that I was going to rip in two. I was terrified that Avery would decide that this was too much and not let me touch her anymore and fuck, I wanted to keep touching her. I wanted to live inside of her. I couldn't. I shouldn't cling to her in this way. John was going to kill me if he found out. He would quite literally beat my ass. Even more so if he knew what I had done when we were kids.

  If he didn't find out, Avery would still want answers. That was the worst part. I couldn't give those answers to her. She couldn't know all the terrible things that I'd done, that had been done to me. She'd never let me read another book, she wouldn't laugh with that stupid snort, or watch those funny sitcoms with me. If Avery knew, she'd never look at me with anything but horror and pity.

  Chapter 30

  Avery- Present

  He shook in my arms and I wasn't sure what I should do. I hadn't expected that. I was rethinking everything that Spence had said, about all the nightmares and the pain he always craved. My brain was running on overdrive connecting the pieces. There was something there, something more than the addiction. I didn't push him to speak. It wasn't the time. I simply held him.

  "I'm sorry," he said those words again and again. He said them so much that they began to sound like meaningless noise as he rocked in my arms. I wasn't sure what he was apologizing for- the crying, the reason behind it, my lack of an orgasm, something else entirely or all of it.

  "It's okay." I breathed, feeling his hot, wet tears coat my shoulder and chest. It made my soul hurt.

  "It's not." The shaking eased as the tears finally seemed to come to a stopping point. He shook his head against me.

  "It is." I tugged on his hair, pulling his face away from me. His cheeks were splotched with red as were his eyes. "Talk to me."

  He kept his lips in a pursed line and my anger boiled inside of me, overcoming my concern. He couldn't just attack me like that and fall apart with no explanation. I drug myself out of his arms and he let me go without a fight. I'd never wanted to hit someone so bad in my whole life, but he would like that too much and that should be disturbing, but I didn't care. Besides, I didn't want to hurt him as much as just beat some sense into him. How did he ever expect to heal if he kept himself so broken?

  I didn't bother to cover myself. I didn't kick or scream. I just strode into my room and turned the stereo on to that music that seemed to bring him comfort. Once it was on I stalked back across the hall to where he was still sitting up on the bed, his arms now wrapped around his knees instead of me.

  "Lay down," I said, crawling back into the bed. My hand clutched his arm and I dragged him down flat and spooned him into me, skin to skin, chest to chest. He took a deep breath, and I scratched his back, running my nails gently along his spine and shoulders. "Sleep."

  And he did. He slept. He slept as I scratched, and the music played. We wouldn't make it to see Dad, but he had Ferrah and there was always tomorrow. Garrett needed me more. As I laid there I considered all the things that remained unsaid, the catalyst that brought on this breakdown. It had to have been Chris, the text. Unless something else happened today that I didn't know about. When I was sure that Garrett was in a deep sleep I reached for his phone, feeling immensely guilty as I scrolled through his texts. No surprise, there were 5 from his brother that were unread, spanning over the last few days.

  I want to see you.

  I miss you.

  Mom and Dad keep asking about you.

  Their 20th anniversary is tomorrow.

  Just come home for dinner, please?

  The last two were from today. So his parents were having dinner tomorrow. Maybe I could convince him to go. Maybe his family could help with whatever was going on. Spence had come looking for him. Chris had been reaching out. They were trying to bridge whatever gap was there.

  I placed his phone back on the nightstand and padded to the kitchen after throwing on my sweater. It was getting late, and I was starving. Usually, Garrett would make dinner after we went to visit Dad, but there were leftovers in the fridge and I was able to scrounge up something half decent. I read a book after I ate dinner, the same one Garrett had been reading the other day. I was getting to the good part when I heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps.

  Garrett shuffled into the living room, looking disheveled from sleep. I glanced at the clock. It was a bit after midnight. He'd been passed out for over 5 hours. Good. It obviously wasn't enough sleep for the average person, but for Garrett that was normal.

  "Did you sleep well?" I said with a yawn. He nodded, rubbing nervously at the back of his neck. "Ready to talk now?"

  He shook his head. I can't say I was surprised.

  "Well, too bad. You'll just have to listen to me then." I set my book down as he sat on the couch. "You absolutely cannot break down like that without telling me something, anything."

  He tried to argue, but I wouldn't let him talk.

  "It clearly had something to do with Chris and Spence. Spence told me that your parents are having dinner tomorrow." A little white lie never hurt anybody. "They want you there. You should be there. It's their anniversary. A big one. They are your parents. They deserve to see you."

  "They aren't my parents," he said defensively, and my brows furrowed.

  "They may not seem like it now, but you need to at least try to reconnect with them. You've made it to the one-year mark, but it's not going to just get easier. A lot of the guys on Dad's crew have relapsed. And it's always been the ones without any family or friends to back them. Sobriety is easier with a support system. Your brother can help, your parents can help."

  He shook his head.

  "No, you don't understand. They aren't my parents. You wanted something. That's your something."

  A million questions raced through my head, but I narrowed it down to one.

  "If they're not your parents, who are they?"

  "My aunt and uncle."

  He grabbed the book I had abandoned, opening it to wherever he had left off the other night.

  "Is that all I'm getting?"

  He nodded so I took that as my queue to head to bed. I turned to him just as I reached the hallway.

  "It's obvious that they car
e about you. It wouldn't hurt to see them. I could go with you."

  I stood there for several moments. I almost gave up.

  "Fine." His reply was abrupt, his attention focused on the book. Feeling triumphant, I finally went to bed and slept peacefully to the sound of the stereo with the idea of a reunion in my heart.

  ***

  I slept until 9. It was a Saturday, so we started the day around noon by visiting Dad. Ferrah was forcing him to walk the halls and he was not happy about it. We kept the visit short because we didn't want to derail his process. We ran a couple errands before we had to be at dinner. I made sure to wear a long sleeve maroon sweater dress to cover as much skin as possible. A dress that had pockets! Thank the fashion gods. I wouldn't have to put my cell phone in my bra. Garrett settled on a gray turtleneck and slacks. A good choice considering his neck was bruised from my bite. I'd even convinced him to let me trim his beard, tame it into something less wild and more presentable. We pulled up to the house a little after 5. It was beautiful, a dark blue farmhouse nestled on the edge of a lake with multiple huge windows. I knew that there were other houses that dotted the lake, but they were all ostentatious. This one felt less like a mansion and more like a legit home.

  Garrett climbed out of the truck reluctantly, taking his sweet time to come up behind me. Maybe he wasn't ready for this. Maybe it was wrong of me to suggest it. I considered telling him we could leave, but I didn't have the opportunity. Chris was waiting on the front porch. He looked just as gorgeous as he did in high school, even more so. He had grown into the professor look quite nicely. He embraced me in a hug before moving to Garrett. I caught his flinch at the contact before he relaxed into his brother's arm. There was definitely something there. Was Chris even his brother, or was he a cousin? I pushed away the thought as we followed Chris inside.

  When I was sure that Chris was far enough in front of us, I took the opportunity to scrape my nails across his back. Garrett shivered, and then unexpectedly he reached for my hand and gave it a tight squeeze. My heart fluttered at the feel of his hand in mine. This was different...new. I tried not to read into it too much, to just enjoy the feel of his hand in mine as we rounded a corner into a living room before he dropped the contact.

  "Garrett!"

  His...aunt captured Garrett in a quick hug before doing the same with me. Laura Hathaway was a thick goddess, resembling all those old paintings of beautiful full-figured women. Her thick brown hair fell in wide curls and she had the most striking amber eyes. The silver dress that clung to her probably cost more than my whole closet. I knew that the Hathaway's were rich. Practically everyone in Junction was. Garrett had said Laura and Robert made their money from hard work though. They were in their late 50s and had been in their careers since their early 20s. She was a real estate lawyer for large commercial projects and Robert owned a couple restaurants in Harrow and Charlotte that he had built from the ground up.

  Robert matched his wife beautifully. He was stocky with a well-trimmed beard. He looked so much like Chris, the same dark brown hair and nose. He had the same style too. He was an older and wiser professor. I could see where Chris had gotten his fashion sense. The only thing that didn't match were those eyes, those shockingly blue eyes. I almost did a double take between him and Garrett, but I refrained. I knew those eyes. They were the same ones I looked at rimmed in red last night.

  I took Robert's hand when he reached out to shake mine, my mind clicking so many things in place. He was the one related to the boys by blood. It was excruciatingly obvious. So, what had happened for him to take them in? What happened to their real parents? Did it have anything to do with those screams Garrett made in his sleep?

  "Avery?" Robert looked at me with concern and I realized that I was still holding his hand. I dropped it with a smile.

  "Are you alright?" Spence asked me, eying my clothed wrists from his spot on a gray sofa. I was going to smack his pretty face.

  Chapter 31

  Garrett- Present

  "Fine," Avery replied to Spence's question with a forced smile. I guided her to an open seat as Robert and Laura rushed back to the kitchen across the wide open first floor. The sun was beginning to set, and I could see the lake through the wide windows. The water reflected a gorgeous orange color.

  "Just checking." Spence sipped on a glass of red wine, placing a hand on Chris' thigh. I tensed, not at the touch, but at the red liquid swirling in his glass. I'd never cared for wine, but alcohol was alcohol and right now my throat was parched with my nerves. I wanted to reach out and hold onto Avery, but it wasn't a good idea. I didn't want everyone getting the wrong idea.

  "How's the photography business?" I asked Chris, leaning back onto the couch, trying my best to appear casual as the voice in my head screamed.

  "Because Chris is important and you're worthless."

  "Good. I have a few weddings booked and some boudoir shoots over the next few months."

  I smiled, a real smile that I felt take over my whole face. Chris made me immensely proud. I loved that he was doing something he loved, something that brought him joy and that he could live off. He deserved it.

  "Get your hands off that." Mom smacked the toy out of my hand, passing it over to Chris. "You don't deserve it."

  My hands balled into fists and I savored the bite of my nails. I'd sharpened them this morning for this very purpose. If I was going to make it through this dinner, I needed the pain.

  "What do you do, Spence?" Avery chimed in when the silence grew. Warmth rushed through my body. I was so grateful for her presence.

  "I teach at the high school."

  Avery lost that fake smile, and I knew that she was thinking about our senior year and a wave of guilt washed over me. I'd never apologized to her for taking advantage of her body's reaction to me, using it to hurt her, or the aftermath of that video that lived somewhere on the Internet.

  "Avery works in marketing," I said, effectively changing the conversation. "She tried to explain it to me once and I got completely lost."

  Spence and Chis laughed. The smile on Avery's face returned, genuine this time.

  "I mostly just do market projections and boring background stuff."

  Something occurred to me, some distant memory that had nothing to do with my mother or Chris. Avery had mentioned that one time during our economics project.

  "Why did you go into marketing?" I asked suddenly. It had never occurred to me that she was doing exactly what we had done our senior year. Now that she explained it in normal terms, I could see the similarity. But why? Didn't it bother her? She glanced towards me for a brief second and then averted her gaze.

  She shrugged in response to my question.

  "I thought it was fun. It was the only thing I'd ever enjoyed doing and I had a talent for it."

  Fuck me. Now I felt like an even bigger asshole.

  "Dinner's done."

  We sat down at the dining room table. The perfect happy little family photo. I imagined this was what holidays looked like in the Hathaway home. It had been years since I sat down to a meal with them. Chris and Spence took one side of the table with Laura and Robert on the ends. Avery was seated next to me and offered a glass of wine. She declined. Avery only rarely drank. She'd told me that while watching an old episode of Inflictions where Xavier vomited all over his boyfriend at the time after he'd had too much to drink. She'd fast forwarded through the scene, feeling immensely queasy. Apparently, college had made Avery swear off the stuff as that had been her one too many times.

  Without thinking, Laura offered me a glass, and I had to grip Avery's thigh under the table in order to get the 'no' to come out. Laura began to apologize, but I stopped her.

  "It's fine," I said abruptly, releasing Avery's thigh to reach for the ham that Robert had made. It was glazed and the mashed potatoes were rustic, the peels kept on. Not the way I would have done it.

  Laura stared at me as we all ate. She was concerned. Despite the weight I had put back on and my fr
esh appearance. Laura was too observant, like Avery. I was glad that I had remembered to wear the turtleneck. That bite would have raised endless questions. I listened to Robert talk about a new restaurant in Harrow. He'd opened it sometime last year, but this was the first time I'd heard about it. It was a Korean and American fusion restaurant that Spence and his family had contributed recipes to.

  "That sounds amazing." Avery said, when Robert mentioned the Korean fried chicken and bulgogi wraps. She was picking at the mashed potatoes. She didn't enjoy the food as much as mine. If she did, she would have devoured that plate already. I felt an intense amount of pride. "Garrett makes really good fried chicken."

  Laura, Robert, and Chris looked at me at the same time, the way they smiled made my heart ache.