by Piper Frost
He’s a younger guy, attractive but that scar really fucks him up. I don’t recognize him from last night but obviously we met.
“I’ve been called worse.”
I turn for the door, but he trips me and I go down, then his knee is in my back. “I said where’d you come from?”
“You didn’t say that, you cock sucker,” I groan through the pain in my chest.
“Why are you with the Kenshaws?” he growls, yanking my head back by my hair.
“Because,” I groan then mumble my response.
“What?” He gets closer to my mouth.
“Because fuck you,” I whisper when he’s close enough.
“Because fuck you.” He chuckles then suddenly flips me and slams me to my back hard enough my eyes close.
“Fuck,” I groan.
“I don’t like hurting pretty girls, Jo. Answer my questions,” he snarls and I see red.
So apparently I have a problem with being called pretty. I never realized it because I haven’t been called pretty for as long as I can remember. My knee meets his groin and my thumbnails gouge into his eyes, but he closed them before I could do any real damage.
“Fuck!” He groans while holding himself.
Rushing to my feet so I can get the fuck out of this bathroom, he grabs my ankle and yanks me back down to the ground.
“Goddammit,” he moans trying to crawl over me while I flail to get away.
He’s in pain, that much is clear, and he’s much weaker than he was when we started this, but I’m still no match because I need to eat a fucking cheeseburger. I’m one of those girls. The ones that curvy girls bash because I’m too skinny. Some girls can’t help it, and then there are girls like me that have drugs keeping them skinny coupled with the fact I rarely eat. And only because I can’t afford it. I actually looked forward to gaining some weight when Donna picked me up. I gained eight pounds while in rehab and I thought I actually had a tiny handful of tit.
“Shit,” he breathes once his weight is on top of my back and he has me pinned to the floor. “I should bash your face into this floor.”
“Fucking do it,” I pant, out of breath from my failed escape.
“Shit,” he huffs, still trying to fight through the pain. “Tell me how you know the Kenshaws.”
I’m about to retort with something along the lines of ‘fuck you’ but I feel a prick right under my ear. It’s a sensation I’m familiar with from living on the streets and I realize he has a knife to me.
“Donna is my mom,” I respond, envisioning getting stabbed right under the ear and wanting to avoid that at all costs.
The bathroom is silent except for our panting breaths and when his forehead lowers to the back of my shoulder I smirk that I hurt him that bad when I kneed him.
When there’s a knock at the bathroom door, my eyes flash to the heavy wood and I realize he locked it, which explains why all this went on uninterrupted.
“Stand up,” he quietly says, voice still filled with pain. “If you say a word, I will stab you.” He leads me to the end stall and ushers me inside then to stand on the toilet.
“What the fuck do you want, man?” I grumble because I’m super hungry.
“I need your help.” His blue eyes meet mine and I scowl at him.
“You think I’m going to fucking help you with anything?”
“No,” he responds simply and the second the bathroom door is unlocked, he puts one hand over my mouth and the other holds the knife to my neck.
“It’s empty,” a male’s voice says.
“How’s it locked?” a female asks.
“Someone else with a key must have accidentally locked it.”
They go on back and forth trying to figure out the mystery of the locked bathroom and I roll my eyes. When my gaze lands on scar face I see the small trace of a smirk. I’m now realizing scar face is helmet head from last night because there was no one else I met that had such a problem with me. When the woman comes in to use the toilet, I elbow scar face and he doubles, losing his footing and his grip. As one foot fumbles into the toilet, I bolt.
Running up to the table, I tell Donna, "I'm not feeling well, at all." I swipe at the nick on my neck from his knife blade. "Can we go?"
"Yeah, yes." She stands and the look on her face tells me she senses my discomfort.
The ride's quiet and when she tries to talk, I groan and put my hands to my stomach. The only feeling I have right now is I want to get back in bed. That fucking guy wanted to kill me. Fuck this hick town and the surrounding cities.
"Thanks, Donna. Night," I blurt and head for Brandt's entrance of his house. She's calling out about dinner, but I ignore her.
Getting through the door, I head for the kitchen and grab the jar of peanut butter and a spoon then haul my bags to the room I'm staying in. After tending to my hurt head and neck, it's peanut butter for dinner.
I hear her come in and my ears perk up a bit. Like her being here makes any difference. It shouldn't, but it does. Today was busy as hell and all I want to do is relax so I can do it all over again tomorrow, but something brings me downstairs to the kitchen. I swing open the pantry and see my peanut butter gone and chuckle to myself. She's gonna have to start keeping her own food here if she's gonna eat all the dang good stuff.
"Jo," I call, knocking on her bedroom door. Why's she always keep it closed? It's like she wants nothing to do with us, but I know she had fun last night.
"No," she groans.
"No, what?" I laugh, swinging the door open and smiling at her. "How was my peanut butter?"
"Oh." She looks at the jar that's sitting in bed with her then picks it up and tosses it to me. "I owe you a jar." Lying back down, she covers up to her chin and her eyes go back to the TV.
I look at her real close as I step farther into her room. "You get your hair done? Something's different," I say, sitting on the bed next to her and trying to figure out what it is. "Maybe it's the hoodie thing. That old thing finally see it's last day?"
She scowls at me. "It's probably lack of sleep you're noticing. Hey, can you close the door on your way out please?" Eyes back on the TV.
I sigh and shake my head, standing. "I'm sorry about this too, Jo." When her glare lands on me and before she can react, I grip the blanket and rip it off her, holding it just out of her reach. "You can't live your life in b—" Hell... "What happened to the girl who didn't care last night?" I whisper, trying not to look affected by the new haircut, the painted nails, and the new outfit she's got on but it's huggin' her in all the right places and I can't not look. This is bad. So bad, but trying to remember this is my step sister is the hardest thing I’ve had to do.
Her arms are covering her body like she's naked and she gets to her knees, her long hair falling past her shoulders, actually styled instead of limp like yesterday. "Brandt," snarls from her lips. "We need to go over some fuckin' boundaries or something."
"You're new here, Jo. I'll give you a few days to accept one thing about me," I say, then lean down closer to her, simply because she smelled great last night and I need another hit. "I have no boundaries, sweetheart." I yank the blanket away when she tries to snatch it from me and I take a step back. "We got some fun that needs to be had tonight. Let's go."
Her eyes stay locked on me and there's something ticking in that pretty little head before she lunges with a grunt, trying to get to the blanket. She's attached to my side, and I can't flail her off because she's like a leech, really wanting this blanket. I try to wrestle her off without breaking any bones, and we land on the bed with a huff.
"You really want this thing, don't you?" I laugh, holding her down and tossing the blanket across the room. "I said we’re gonna go have fun tonight, Jo." I'm so close to her each breath is intoxicating and hell if her body doesn't feel good pressed against mine, even if she's fighting to get away from me. I chuckle and cock my head at her. "Why're you always so angry at me? I'm just tryin' to teach you how to relax, Jo."
Panti
ng under me, her breaths keep pushing her chest against mine. The more she squirms, the more she gets herself in a position where she's rubbing against me. Finally she lets out a frustrated huff.
"You have too much energy." She's still panting and turns her head when I won't break eye contact. "You're obnoxious."
With her head at this angle my eyes catch a glimpse of something on her neck that has me moving my hand to her hair, needing to push it aside to get a better look. She tries fighting me when she realizes what I'm doing, but it's too late.
"What the hell happened, Jo?" I whisper, eyeing the fresh slice on her neck and I know it wasn't there last time I saw her.
With a shriek she starts to wiggle and while I was enjoying her rubbing on me before, now I'm pissed something happened to her. I try to adjust myself so I'm not enjoying it, but eventually I give in and hop off the bed, running my hands through my hair in frustration.
"You gonna tell me what the hell happened to your neck?" I blurt, and I'm not sure if I'm angry that she's hurt or angry that she's not telling me or angry that I don't want to be angry over this girl but I am. Hell.
I can't be too sure, but I swear her eyes just flashed to my dick, but they're back on me when she snaps, "Nothin'! Get out!"
"Those types of cuts don't just happen, Jolene. Either you tell me or I'm gonna find out from someone else. And you know I will." I cross my arms, standing here in the middle of her room, worried for a girl I shouldn't care about but I do. Way too much. Just like I care about, and like, how mussed her hair is and the frazzled look on her face.
"What coulda possibly happened to me, Brandt? I've been in bed most of the day. Quit prying into my freaking life. Fuck! Just because I share a room in your house and eat your peanut butter doesn't mean you can stick your fuckin' nose in my business." Her fingers touch the slice and she moves to the end of the bed, not getting off it while she stretches for the blanket. My eyes go to her ass in those leggings.
I'd like to stick my somethin’ in her... Shit my dad would kill me for these thoughts.
"For some reason, a rude chick moves into my house, steals my peanut butter, and is mean to me every chance she gets even when I'm trying to be nice and hospitable. You'd think I wouldn't care, but I do." I grab the chair from the desk in the corner and take a seat. "I'm not leaving you alone till you tell me, so you may as well spill. That happen when you got your hair done? It looks nice by the way. Pretty."
The anger on her face starts to heat up until she huffs. "Fucking helmet head cornered me in a fucking bathroom and we got into it. This came from a knife and I don't know when it happened, but probably when I fought to get away from him." She crawls back to the pillows.
My stomach drops and I lean my head down, dropping it to my hands. Helmet Head. IE- my goddamned brother.
"What'd he say to you?" I ask, moving to the bed, not fighting the urge to get closer to her.
"I don't know," she says with a shrug and touches the cut again. "Asking where I came from. How I know you guys. He wants my help with something? It's really no big deal." Her eyes dart from me to the TV, but slowly come back.
"It's only a big deal because you're playing it like he can't hurt you, Jo. You don't know him. He's capable of a lot worse than a small cut on the neck." I reach out and stop myself before pushing her hair aside to see it again, rage simmering inside over what he did to her.
"I don't doubt that now. This was the least of what he did." When she flips her hair to the side, my eyes drop to her pale neck. "He's a mean bastard," she whispers and her hand slides to the back of her head. "But I got out of it." And there's that shrug again like it ain't a big deal.
"This time, sure. Next time he'll be better prepared for your fight. Trust me." I try to keep the anger from my tone but the fact that she's not taking this seriously pisses me off. I won't have her getting hurt from my psycho family.
"You guys go to school together or somethin'? How'd he get that scar?" The tone of her voice is like he interests her more than he should.
"Naw." I shift to sit on the bed a little closer to her. "We live in two different towns. No school together." I push my hands through my hair and sigh. "He's a fighter, Jo. Always has been, always will be. I'm sure the scar isn't the ugliest part of him."
"It was kinda cool." She chuckles. "It was gnarly. Anyway, I've met bigger assholes than him and still lived to talk about it." She pulls the covers up over her legs.
"This asshole isn't gonna go away though." I can just feel the start of something bigger now that he's set his sights on her. "You gotta just stay away from him, okay?"
"Maybe I will, maybe I won't. That's like me telling you Donna sucks, stay away from her. You fuckin' won't just 'cause I tell you to. Just because you say he's an asshole doesn't mean I'm gonna be afraid of him. I witnessed first-hand how much of an asshole he is." That stupid shrug lifts her shoulders again. "But I'm sure we'll bump into each other again. You don’t seem to have much reason other than knowing he likes to fight."
"I have plenty of reasons," I growl. I don't want her to know. I hate talking about it. But this stubborn girl isn't going to listen to me at all until I fill her in. "Shit, Jo," I grumble, flipping off the TV and shifting to face her. "His name's Cash Fayer. And he's my older brother." I watch her for a reaction, my heart beating out of my damn chest because I'm about to relive parts of my life I never wanted to again, all to try to keep this stubborn girl safe.
"Huh." She stares at me like she's gauging if she can believe me. "Bad blood there I assume? So I take it Garrison's not his dad?"
"Ah, no. He lives a town over. Garrison, my dad, and his mom got together when he was about three. I came along when he turned four, and ever since he's kinda hated me. Not for any good reason but the man's just insane." I shake my head. "When my dad left our mom, he took me with him and my mom naturally kept Cash. I grew up here, he grew up in a shitty situation with a new step dad that didn’t take too kindly to him."
"Ahhh, so it's the bad brother hates the spoiled brother. Sounds like he has a lot of reasons to hate you guys." She reaches for the remote to turn the TV back on.
I snatch it from her and turn it off. "I'm not fuckin' spoiled, Jo. I've worked my ass off on this ranch. Me and my dad both. I've been up before the sun since before I knew any better, making sure this place and my dad didn't fail. It was just us for years until your mom came along." I shake my head, taking a deep breath to calm myself. "Cash has hated me since the day I was born, but when they separated and especially when Donna came along, everything got worse. My summers, when I spent time with my mom, I was forced to fight for my food. Fight for my TV time. Everything was a fight. One day, Cash and I were playin' football in the field behind mom's house and the ball went over the fence. We scrabbled, fighting who had to climb the rusted barbed wire fence to get it. I wasn't about to go over that shitty thing, so I fought. Hard. Because he kept fighting back harder the older we got and I had no choice." My hands wring together and I let out a heavy breath. "I never wanted to hurt him like I did. I never expected it to get that far but something snapped in him and he just lost it. I didn't have a choice. The wire sliced through his cheek so...well it wasn't clean. He's always had it out for my dad and me. Ever since the cut on his face, he’s pretty much wanted me dead."
She thinks over everything I just told her then snorts. "He hates you guys 'cause you scarred him. That's just stupid. Sucks for you, but I got nothing to do with that shit and the kid better leave me alone because next time I'll make sure I have a knife." Her arms wrap around her knees as she pulls them into her chest and she glances at me a few times, seeming like there's more she wants to say but she doesn't.
"I'm not joking, Jo. Word is he gets rough with girls. Raped a few, apparently, but none will come forward and press charges they're so scared of him. He's got an entire crew of goons that think he's God. Even if he's physically not in the same room as you, you can bet if he has his eyes set on you, he knows exactly what you'r
e doing. At all times." I don't want to scare her bad, but she needs some fear put in her. Cash ain’t nothing to fuck with. She needs to take this seriously and I need to figure out a way to get him off her tail. And fast.
"Whelp." She gets out of the bed, her tight tank top riding up her stomach. "I'm not worried about it.” Grabbing her hoodie, she asks, "Are we gonna be inside or outside?"
It takes me a minute to realize what she's asking, and then a grin spreads across my face. I got so wrapped up in the shit about Cash that I forgot about our fun for the night.
"So you're coming out with me for a bit of fun without me carrying you out that door kicking and screaming?"
"If you make a big deal out of it, I'll use my knife on you." She glares at me.
"You don't scare me." I laugh, standing and slinging my arm around her shoulder. "As much as I like this tank top, you're gonna need a jacket."
She looks up at me a little confused before she looks down at her shirt. "It's just a black tank." A black hoodie slides over her and hides the view.
Yeah, but it lets me see more of you. And that's always a good sight.
I bite back the words and smile at her, holding the door open as she walks out on her own accord. Damn straight she's hanging out with me willingly. I can't wipe the grin off my face as I follow her outside.
"We're headin' to the barn," I say, prying my eyes off her ass. Thank god it's dark already, because if my dad saw me eyein' her like this...well that'd be the end of me living in the same house as her. Probably the end of my life as I know it.
"This was a ploy to get me out here to do work, wasn't it?" She huffs.
"Nah," I chuckle. "I'm not that mean. Plus, I wouldn't let you wear pants like that if you were really gonna be workin'." I try to picture her in a pair of jeans and boots and have to stop myself before it becomes painfully obvious what's goin' on in my head.
"So..." She glances around when we get in the barn. "What's so awesome out here?" Her timid touch reaches for my horse but she jerks her hand back when he turns his head.