"What the fuck is this?" Mother shouted, tossing the chicken in the trash. "Is my food not good enough for you?"
I set my hand back on Avery's thigh. The room had gone silent, and I braced myself for the questions. Avery hadn't known. It wasn't her fault.
"You're cooking again?" Chris was the first to ask, and I could hear the joy in his voice. I hated that it made him so damn happy.
Avery realized then that she had said something she shouldn't have. She gripped my hand on her thigh and dug her nails into me. It helped.
"Yeah. After John ended up in the hospital, I figured Avery would just live off packaged shit and spaghetti since he did all the cooking," I said with a shrug. "It's not a big deal."
"You remembered about the spaghetti?" Avery asked with a laugh, her green eyes sparkling, and that damn snort came out.
Another shot of pride. I had remembered. She'd told me that John cooked on that same damn day in economics that I'd told her I liked to cook. I hadn't told her that I hadn't done so in years. I'd stopped cooking my Sophomore year of high school and lived off junk food and whatever Trevor's family had made for me. When John had taken me in he'd done all the cooking. It was only out of necessity that I had started again. We'd gotten home that first night from the hospital and the last thing I had wanted to eat was spaghetti. It was easy to make the fried chicken, we had all the ingredients. It had shocked me to find it missing after our fight. The thought of Avery eating my food made me happy, so I had just kept cooking. It was nice.
"Maybe we can cook some time," Robert said. I wanted to tell him that was way outside my comfort zone. It took everything in me to shut off that damn voice enough to cook at home. "Like the old days."
Robert had tried to embrace my love of cooking when we had first come to live with them. Chris had told him that I could cook, and they had run with it. They didn't get it. They didn't understand that it brought back memories I'd rather not experience. It took a lot out of me even now, but those sounds Avery made when she bit into my food, they made it all worth it.
The rest of the dinner went by without incident, at least not anything visual. There was small talk, some nonsense about the upcoming holidays, about John's health. The longer we sat there, the more uncomfortable I felt, the more the voice shouted.
"You don't belong here."
I offered to take Avery on a quick walk down to the lake. I needed the fresh air, some kind of distraction before dessert, and her face lit up when I told her how beautiful the moon always looked from the dock. I very much wished that was my only intention when I brought her down there and took her hand in mine. It would be the right thing to do, to just sit there and enjoy the brisk October air and let her snuggle into my side. The monster in me didn't like that idea at all. He wanted relief. He wanted the feel of her nails and teeth. He wanted the pain.
Chapter 32
Avery- Present
There was a short path through some trees that led down to the waterfront. Garrett was right, the moon really did look beautiful on the water. We sat on a dock, his hand in mine, and for a few minutes we just listened to the gentle water lapping against the wood. I caught myself staring at him as he peered up at the moon and stars overhead. My eyes roamed over his features- that wavy black hair, his strong cheekbones, the small bump on his nose that I could only see from this angle.
I felt something more intense than the cold or that hate I'd once felt for him. He wasn't a shadow anymore. He was just broken, and I ached to make him better. I wanted to help him more than I wanted anything. I wanted to help him more than I wanted to protect myself. It wasn't about the sex. It was...love. I loved the way he looked at Dad, I loved the food that he apparently only made for me. I loved how he read while I slept and that he watched my stupid shows with me. I could admit it to myself, with his hand in mine, my gaze focused entirely on him. I loved him.
My heart felt like it would burst out of my chest, but when he glanced over at me, his eyes catching mine, it squeezed and cracked at the pain in his features, the sadness in those eyes of his nearly choked the breath out of me.
"Are you okay?" I asked. He shook his head, releasing a deep breath.
"I'm sorry. I thought this would help. Your family misses you. They want you here."
"I know." He finally said after a few moments. "But it...it's hard. Being around them brings up memories...bad ones. The drugs used to help."
"Memories of what?"
He reached up and touched my cheek. He wasn't going to answer me. His lips closed on mine and I knew it was to shut me up. I didn't want to push, not right now, not when I felt my heart swelling with such strong emotion. I wanted his kisses, I wanted to pretend that he felt the same way about me as I did him, but as his fingers slid into my hair and he deepened the kiss I recognized the taste of cinnamon gum. I hadn't even seen him pop the piece into his mouth. He must have done it sometime on the short walk. Chewed on it and spit it out. He'd planned this. He'd taken me down here so that he could kiss me without an audience. He brought me here as a distraction. At the taste of his lips, one more question came to me.
"This helps too, doesn't it?" I panted the words into his mouth, letting my hands slip beneath his sweater to scratch his skin. Things were starting to make sense. He had bad memories, whatever they were. This helped. The sex, the pain. It was another way for him to deal with them.
"Yes," he replied in a whispered heavy breath and laid me back onto the dock, hovering over me as his hands moved down over my body, down my breasts, my hips, and finally to the bottom hem of my dress. I shivered from the shock of the cold as he helped me to lift it over my head.
"What about this?" I freed him of his sweater in return and ran my nails right over that bite mark on his neck as his skillful fingers unclasped the hooks on my bra, shoving the straps roughly down my shoulders, tossing it into the heap of clothes that was beginning to build on the dock. I felt the wood sway under us.
"Yes," he groaned, his hands fumbling for the button on his slacks.
My heart hammered in my chest, my skin hot despite the frigid air. I slid my hand from his neck to his face, sliding my fingers through his short beard. He nuzzled my hand, scratching my palm with the coarse hairs with a contented sigh. He opened his eyes, glacier blue and intently focused on me. I felt a thousand butterflies in my stomach, and I had to fight back the tears. I wouldn't cry. I wouldn't break. My chest hurt. It was like I was being split down the middle and I was afraid he would see; see the way my heart was expanding with need. I needed more.
"More."
He spoke the word that nagged at my mind and something inside me snapped. I smacked him, a hard strike to the face and I gasped at my own action. He looked at me in shock and I felt a jolt of happiness run through my entire body at the smile that took over his face.
"Do it again, Pet."
His hands slammed me down at the hips, pressing me into the dock as I moaned. He was deep into this moment. I didn't know what he was feeling, but I did know that whatever had been haunting him was far from his mind. I wanted so badly to keep him there, to hold onto this all-consuming side of him. I complied. My hand connected again with his face and I felt the fresh sting on my hand as his fingers found my panties. They gripped and pulled, and the thin fabric gave way with a rip. I gasped at the unexpected air on my aching heat. The growl of satisfaction he made when he looked down at me...I'd never get tired of that sound. He dragged a finger along me, sighing at the wetness that coated him.
"So wet for me."
"Just for you, Sir." I'd never spoken truer words. It would always be for him. There wasn't anyone else that could possibly make me feel so good. There was just Garrett, always Garrett. He was it for me. "Always for you."
My eyes itched with the threat of tears. I couldn't let him see me cry so I smacked him a third time and even in the dim light from the moon I could see his cheek starting to darken. His hands caught my wrists, and he slammed my arms onto the wooden dock. He enter
ed me with an abrupt thrust that drug my back against the wood.
"Fuck!" I thrust upward, driving him deeper. I wanted him to fill me, to anchor me to this place permanently. I never wanted to leave this moment.
"Yes, Avery," he grunted at my movement and my insides curled at the sound of my name. I was doing this. I was making him lose that tense control, I was making him forget, and my body was on fire with the power, with the overwhelming intensity of joy that filled my heart.
I could feel myself throbbing, my clit aching for attention as he ground into me.
"I want to touch myself, Sir," I panted. There was no shame with Garrett. Just heat and need.
He laughed; a cute little laugh followed by a moan.
"Fuck, Avery. Are you trying to kill me?" He released my arms, moving his hands to palm my breasts. "Go on then. Show me how you play with yourself, Pet. I want to see."
I pressed my middle finger to my clit, grinding as he thrust into me, feeling that wonderful tension in the pit of my stomach.
"You can do better than that, Pet." He pinched a nipple and slid the other hand to my throat, squeezing as my eyes rolled back into my head. "I want you to make yourself cum on me and then I want you to hurt me like you fucking mean it."
His words drove me over the edge. I came, sliding my fingers down around his length as my body shook. He picked up speed, and I dragged my nails along his shaft as I reached up with my free hand to smack him again.
"Fuck, I love that." He gritted his teeth, squeezing my throat harder. "I love the things you do to me."
I was almost too busy floating to notice his grunts, the wild sounds he made as he rutted against me.
"I love the way you feel." He leaned down to really drive into me, his head falling to the crook of my neck and his breath was right in my ear. "I love how incredibly violent you are."
I felt him stiffen inside of me as my insides curled. I was going to cum again. I wasn't even sure that the first orgasm had ever stopped. I couldn't think, couldn't focus on anything except the way he felt inside, the sound of his skin slapping against me, and those beautiful words that he muttered incoherently.
"I love everything about you, Pet."
My body shook again, my walls tightening around him as I came undone.
"I love-" There was a pause as if the world stopped turning for the briefest moment. "You." The last word slid from his mouth as he spilled inside of me and I trembled beneath him.
My heart was going to explode, my lungs couldn't get enough air. He collapsed on top of me with a shudder that rocked us both and I tried not to move, not to speak. He didn't realize what he had said, not for a minute or two. I felt him tense, I watched as he pushed me away and my swollen heart broke into a thousand pieces. He scrambled away, a look of horror on his face.
"It's okay," I said, holding out my hands like I would to a frightened animal. "I-, I love-"
"No!" He screamed. "This is ridiculous. You're just a distraction, like the drugs or the booze. That's all this is, just another addiction. You're a slutty little toy!"
"Stop it! You're just trying to hurt me!" I screamed at him, covering myself with my dress to avoid the cold and hide the shame that crept into my body at his words. "We can make this work. I can help you."
He struggled to button his pants, shaking his head viciously as he shouted back at me through gritted teeth.
"You can't fucking help me!"
The shadow washed over him, and I felt my eyes go wide at the mask that took over his face. He was emotionless, a blank slate, and all I wanted to do was to pull him into my arms and make it better. Tears threatened to spill, blurring my vision as he finally secured the buttons on his pants. He ran away, not even bothering with his sweater. It's only when he was out of sight that I let those tears fall. I broke into heaving sobs that seemed to last forever.
It was the cold that finally brought me back from my sorrow. I was freezing without the warmth from our bodies, and I needed to get back to the house. I hooked my bra and situated my dress. I made the walk of shame to the Hathaway house, thankful that the path was easy to follow and that my cell phone hadn't fallen out of my pocket. I'm not sure how far I would have made it without a flashlight.
I saw immediately that the truck was gone, not a big surprise there. I ordered a rideshare, but I was freezing. To say that Garrett's family was shocked to see me standing alone at their door was an understatement. My mascara was running, and I looked like a hot mess. They only had to look at me to know that something had gone wrong.
Laura wrapped an arm around me and brought me into the house. I'd never been more embarrassed in my life and it seemed that they took that into consideration. Spence, Robert, and Laura made themselves scarce while Chris brought me a cup of warm tea.
"I didn't know you were...um...seeing each other," he said, handing it to me.
"I'm surprised Spence didn't tell you about the bruises."
"Bruises?" I could see the anger in his eyes, of course he had taken that entirely the wrong way.
I shook my head at him.
"Consensual bruises," I said with a blush, taking a sip of the warm tea.
"Oh," he replied, running a hand through his hair. He sipped from his own cup.
"And it hasn't been going on for very long. He...he isn't very good at accepting affection," I said with a weak laugh.
"Yeah, tell me about it, but it makes sense considering everything that our mother did to him." My sharp breath was indication enough that I had no idea what he was talking about. "Of course, he didn't tell you. Fuck."
The puzzle pieces clicked into place. The nightmares, the memories...
"What did she do?"
"I can't tell you that, Avery."
I was getting really sick of all the damn secrets. I was glad when the alert came up on my phone for the rideshare.
"Whatever." I set down the half empty mug. "Keep your fucking secrets then. I'm going to find Garrett."
Chapter 33
Garrett- Present
It was a short drive. I'd made it a thousand times since I was sixteen, but not in well over a year. I knew Trevor would be there. I'd heard he had gotten out of jail about four months after I got sober, and he had to have a permanent residence during his parole. I had changed my number and by the time he knew where I was staying it must have been obvious to him that I was out of the scene for good. My lack of interest hadn't stopped his partying and his trust fund money hadn't run out yet, so it wasn't exactly a surprise to see that his parent's guest house was right in the middle of a rager when I pulled up.
I walked into the house and it was like stepping into a fucking time machine. There were bodies everywhere, gyrating to some loud ass music coming from the speakers. It looked exactly as it had the last time I had been there almost 3 years earlier. Before my arrest, before my own time in jail, before Avery...I shook the thought from my mind, searching for Trevor in the crowd. I found him in the kitchen, snorting a line of coke off the counter with a scantily young blond hanging on his side. He was 28 years old and still acting like a fucking child. The girl couldn't be older than 19. The drink in her hand sloshed when Trevor pulled away from her. She dressed like most college freshmen at a party, heels that were far too high and a dress that left little to the imagination.
"Garrett!"
Trevor pulled me into a hug, slapping me on the back. He was either too high to care that I hadn't contacted him since his release or too stupid to give a shit. He was so much skinnier than he had been the last time I'd seen him. It occurred to me that I used to look like that. He was practically an inch from death. I could remember feeling that way, how my very bones used to ache. He held out the straw in his hand to me without hesitation or thought. Trevor had never been one for asking. He'd just hand me stuff and expect me to take it. There was a time when I would have. My body itched for a hit, but I was fresh off the high from fucking Avery. That's the only thing that saved my sobriety. If the voice had more power,
if the wrong memory had been prompted, I wouldn't have been able to say no. I hated that I was so weak. I was still hurting, and I wanted everyone else to hurt too.
"Do you still have that footage of Avery from that party?" I screamed over the music, dropping the straw on the counter.
He looked at me like I was crazy. I wasn't sure if it was the fact that I had said no that surprised him or the question. It was a bit random.
"It's probably stored on the security server somewhere. Why?"
"I need it."
I was going to show everyone that damn footage, starting with John. If it wasn't already on every porn site, it would be when I was done. She'd never love me after that. She would never look at me again with that longing in her eyes, never leave cuts on my skin or on my soul. But she'd also never know what had happened, what I'd done.
The girl picked up the straw from the counter and leaned down to snort one of the lines, drawing my attention. So young. I took the straw from her hand just before she placed it into her nose. Far too young, too healthy, to be doing that shit.
"How old are you?" I asked seriously and she sneered at me.
Hurt Like Me Page 18