by K. I. Lynn
I smile sadly at her. “Thanks. Looks like I need to get a manicure again.”
Jenna hasn’t even thrown it into gear when Ashley lets out a low hiss from the front seat.
“Oh, shit.”
The way her words come out makes the hackles on the back of my neck stand up.
I pull out my phone, assuming whatever she and Lyn are staring at is on Facebook, and open up the app.
At the top of my newsfeed—“Incest is disgusting! What the hell is wrong with people?”
The blood leaves my face for a fraction of a second before it erupts into a boil, my hand clenches down around my phone.
Jennifer has dealt the first blow.
I have to force back the posts my fingers want to type.
It’s not incest, bitch.
Shut your cunt mouth.
You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.
Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, slut.
Only the tip of the iceberg I want to shove up her ass.
I’m typing out letters before I can stop myself, but come to my senses before I hit enter.
I can’t respond. It’ll look suspicious.
I have to ignore it. Swallow it all down.
My pride.
My anger.
My protectiveness.
My love.
“Is she fucking serious?” I say with a stressed laugh. I look up from my phone to the three sets of eyes watching me. “Bitch has some balls saying that shit without proof.”
The expressions that are watching me with such love and worry don’t change. Looking back down at the screen, I see why.
“Craig Randall and 1,046 others” have reacted to her post. “268 shares.”
“Fuck . . . that’s most of the school.”
And all in the last four hours since her post.
“Dad has a whole bunch of knives from his military days. We can go cut a bitch up and feed the parts to sharks,” Ashley says in an almost serious tone.
It’s enough to make me let out a small laugh through the tears that are forming.
“Yeah, but the nearest sharks are a thousand miles away. That skank would stink up my car!” Jenna’s brow furrows as the corner of her lips turn down in disgust.
“There’s Newport Aquarium.”
“It might look a little weird if we wheel in something and start dumping human remains into the tank.”
“Damn.”
“But in all seriousness, Kira, that fucking bitch is going to pay.”
I nod, but my bottom lip is nailed between my teeth.
“Okay,” Jenna starts as we pull out, “so, he broke your heart, but I gotta ask . . . What was it like kissing Brayden Hunt at fifteen?”
I let out a small laugh. “It was . . .” Fuck. There’s only one way to describe it. “It was the best kiss of my life.”
“The best?” Marilyn wags her eyebrows.
“I would say there have been better ones since then, but it was definitely the most memorable.”
They giggle and I appreciate their attempt to lighten the mood. It really does help.
The house is dark when we pull up. They’re still asleep, which means they don’t know yet.
“You’re going to have to sneak in,” Jenna says.
There’s one way to do that, or there used to be before Steven had my climbing limb cut off the tree outside Brayden’s window.
I shake my head. “Front door or back door.”
Jenna’s head tips back in laughter. “That’s what he said.”
I roll my eyes, my lip twitching as I push on the back of her seat. “Perv.”
Grabbing onto the handle, I open the door and climb out. The windows roll down and my girls lean toward the openings.
“Good luck,” Marilyn says.
“We’ll form a plan of attack in the morning,” Ashley calls from the other side of Jenna.
Jenna smiles and reaches for my hand. “Love you, girl.”
I smile at her. “Love all of you, so much.” I blow them a kiss as they pull away, watch as they disappear around the corner.
Left alone in front of the house, I stare up at the building that has never felt like a home. A residence. A place to sleep.
A place I endured because my mother was happy.
I miss the ranch home to the left. The one with the tree house. It was my sanctuary. My room, our home.
This house was the fun place with the pool, where Brayden could be found, but inside I watched it change him. Warp him.
It wasn’t the house’s fault, but the man residing within its walls. His poison infected everyone. Slowly killed happiness, joy, and love with his selfish venom until everyone was miserable.
Every time Brayden came home everything seemed to brighten, the soothing light combatting the evil. He overpowers everything, which I think makes his father jealous.
After seeing his mom for the first time in years, I see where he gets it from. There’s an infectious light within him, but there’s also the consuming darkness from his father.
I hate his father. I hate what he’s done to my mother. Sucking the life from her. Any small measure of happiness he once provided stripped away.
A miserable man who thrives on making others miserable, too. Takes pleasure in unhappiness.
With a sigh, I start up the driveway. My shoes click loudly against the pavement in the silent night air, almost amplifying and announcing to everyone my presence.
My phone provides just enough light to get my key into the lock. It clicks over, a small creak of the hinge as I push it open just enough to squeeze through, then shut and lock it again.
I cringe as my heels click on the hardwoods, resonating around the entryway. A few more taps as I pull them off and head to the stairs.
Everything is still dark when I reach the top of the stairs, only eight steps until I reach the safety of my room.
“Kira? Are you just now getting in?” Mom asks, stopping me in my sneaky tracks.
Fuck.
Busted.
I don’t even turn to look at her, but I can feel her eyes burning into me. “Yes.”
The padding of her feet on the carpet causes a thudding in my chest that grows harder with each step. “Two hours past curfew?”
“I can explain,” I say as I turn to face her.
Her arms are folded across her chest in true you’re-in-trouble mom fashion. “It better be good, young lady.”
“Well . . . something happened.”
Her eyes narrow. “Please elaborate on this something.”
“There was a fight and I was a witness.”
“A fight?”
I peer over her shoulder at her bedroom door. No sign of Steven.
“Brayden.”
Her eyes widen as she lets out a gasp. “Is he okay?”
I shake my head and pull her down the hall and into my room. “Don’t tell him.”
Her brow scrunches. “Tell who?” It only takes a second before her mouth pops open to an O shape. “Kira . . . it’s not something I can keep from him. He’s his father.”
“Just until he gets out.”
“Of jail?”
I nod. “His mom is there, she’s taking care of everything.”
“Abigail’s there? How did she . . .” The question falls away. She knows the answer, has already figured out that I called, but I hope she doesn’t look further into it.
“He’s pretty beaten physically, he doesn’t need to be verbally bashed when he isn’t even here to defend himself.”
She purses her lips and nods. “I’m sure we’ll hear from her soon.”
There’s no talk about my breaking curfew, even though I’m eighteen. It’s still their house, their rules. I respect and love my mom, so I’ll do as she asks.
Stepping forward, I wrap my arms around her waist and lay my head on her shoulder. “Thanks, Mom.”
It seems like forever since I got a real, deep, comforting hug from her, and she doesn’t
disappoint. Mom hugs can take it all away.
When we part, she motions to my bed. “Get to sleep and we’ll talk more in the morning.”
I nod and watch as she walks out, closing the door behind her.
Unfortunately, there’s no sleep in sight for me. Not until he’s out, until I know he’s okay.
Until I can see and touch him.
Sitting down at my computer, I move the mouse to wake it up. I’m afraid to go on Facebook, to look at Jenn’s post, but at the same time I’m driven to do it.
There’s even more comments than before. More people asking who she’s talking about.
It feels like there are stones in my stomach. Why does she not only have to be the biggest slut, but also the biggest cunt? Is her jealousy that deranged that she thinks her obtuse words will drive a wedge between me and Brayden and have him rushing into her arms?
Talk about unbalanced.
The bitch doesn’t post a single comment, because she can’t. It’s a theory. That, and the more she doesn’t comment, the more worked up the crowd becomes with curiosity.
“Well, bitch, curiosity killed the cat. You’ll fucking get what’s coming to you.”
The words are typed out before I can stop myself, but I force a breath, then slowly delete each and every letter.
It’s nothing more than bait, but with all the attention, where will she stop?
I pull my knees up, hugging them to my chest, staring at the screen.
“I wish they’d never gotten married,” I whisper to no one.
Is it so bad to wish that my mother had never had her small taste of happiness, just so I could have mine?
“Are you done?”
“What the fuck do you mean am I done?”
My fingers curl into fists. I fucking hate my father’s voice. I hate him even more.
And if he talks to my mom like that one more time . . .
My mom has her phone hooked up to the car’s Bluetooth so, unfortunately, I can hear both sides of their conversation.
“Are you done behaving like a jackass or do you want to continue acting like the fool you are?” my mother asks him coldly.
I do a double take, mouth gaping open. Whoa . . .
My mother has screamed at him many, many times before. But she’s never cursed at him.
She’s never spoken to him this coldly, either. Like he’s shit beneath her shoe and she can’t be bothered with him beyond the getting rid of him part.
My father’s clearly just as shocked. The silence on his end is uncharacteristic. I can almost feel his indignation.
Pride for my mom warms my chest.
“Abby—”
“Abigail, Steven. And I don’t want to hear it anymore. I told you what’s happening.”
“He has his own place!”
I want to pretend that my father not wanting me there doesn’t hurt, but there’s a part of me that cringes at his words.
“Yes. He does. But it’s going to be easier for him if he stays there until Monday when I can get him to see a lawyer about his options.”
“He wouldn’t need to see a lawyer if he wasn’t such a piece of—”
“Careful, Steven. Especially when someone like you has no moral leg to stand on and no right to judge him.”
“What?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. You need me to be clearer? You’re the piece of shit here, not him.”
Holy. Shit.
My mother hangs up the phone on my father before he can respond. She’s calm on the exterior, but her cheeks are pink and her eyes are ablaze as she stares straight ahead.
“I’ve never loved you more, Mom.”
My comment rips a surprised laugh out of her and the tension leaves her. She reaches over and squeezes my hand. “It’s about time someone told him.”
We pull up to the front of the house less than ten minutes later. I’m expecting to be hit with tension of the thought of stepping foot in there and facing my father.
Fuck that. I don’t care. My girl’s in there.
And I think she might honestly feel something for Austin.
I swallow back bile at the thought. There’s no forgetting how she looked at me when we were arrested. She stared at me with the same pained adoration back in the holding cell.
Once and for all, we’re going to straighten this out. She’s going to explain to me what it is she feels for that bastard.
Mom stops me before I can exit the car. “It’s just for the weekend. Hopefully we can get the lawyer to see you first thing Monday.”
My jaw clenches. “Mom, I’m not staying here until I have to go to work. I’m only here for one thing.” I don’t have to tell her what that is. She knows.
Kira’s car is in the driveway. Good. Neither one of us is staying here, and we’re going to need it to get back to my place.
Mom sighs but she doesn’t argue. “Well, I’m going to be staying with Jolie, remember her?” At my nod, she continues. “I won’t be more than twenty minutes away so if anything happens, you call me. All right?”
I nod again and turn to leave.
Her grip on my arm tightens. When I turn to stare at her, she’s eyeing all my untreated wounds with both a mother’s concern and a nurse’s examining eye.
“Mom, it’s fine. I’ll get it cleaned up as soon as I’m inside.”
Her eyes flicker up toward my brow. “That one’s going to need stitches.”
“Butterfly stitches at the most.” The wound’s crusted over, already beginning to scab, and it stopped bleeding hours ago.
My mom exhales slowly and for a second it seems like she’s not going to let me out of the car.
Love her, but nothing’s keeping me from Kira.
I open the car door and step out. “Love you, Mom. Promise it’ll be okay. I’ll text you once I’m home.”
She nods. There are tears in her eyes.
Damn it, I hate putting her through this but I can’t wait a second longer without finding my girl.
As I’m jogging up the driveway toward the house, I hear my mom drive away. I pull out my keys and step inside.
He’s there. At the foot of the stairs. Waiting for me. His eyes show none of the concern that I saw in my mom’s. Instead, he eyes my wounds with blatant disdain.
Whatever. I don’t have time for this shit.
Staring straight ahead, I walk to the stairs and try to go past him.
He grabs my arm and pulls me back. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” His hold on my arm tightens. He wants to hurt me and this is his only way of controlling himself.
My way of holding back the urge to punch him right in the face? I grind my teeth and stare at the second floor landing. “I’m heading up to my room.”
“I know where you’re really fucking going,” my father growls, and he pulls my arm harder.
Don’t break his fucking face. Don’t break his fucking face. “I just want to go upstairs and wash all the blood off.”
“Do you think I’m fucking stupid?”
Don’t answer that.
“I know where you’re really going and I’m telling you right now—”
“Steve!”
I turn my head and see Sonia at the entrance to the living room. She’s glaring at my father.
“Let him go, Steven. He’s been through enough.”
My father sneers at her as if he’s disgusted with her as well. “Stay out of this, Sonia. He deserves everything he’s getting.”
One more. One more and I swear to God . . .
My father leans closer and mumbles loud enough for me to hear, “Stay the fuck away from your sister or I’ll call the cops on you. I don’t care if you’re my son, you’re legal and I don’t have to accept you here.”
He drops my arm.
Thank God. I don’t think I can stay near him another second without ending his disgusting life.
I run up the stairs, rage pummeling my veins. I focus only on Kira’s open door. If I don’t focus on her
I’m going to run down the stairs and find my father.
I stop outside Kira’s door. She’s at her desk, staring at her computer. Her brow’s furrowed and there’s a tiny frown on her face.
She’s worried.
“Baby.”
Kira jumps and flies around in her seat. Her eyes widen.
And there. There it is. What I’ve been dying to see in her eyes again.
“Brayden.”
“Come here, baby.”
She’s out of her seat in a flash. I catch her up against me, hugging her tight. The warmth and feel of her, that delicious scent . . . Groaning, I squeeze her tighter.
Can’t get close enough, and I’m pretty sure I’m suffocating her.
Kira doesn’t care. Her little body burrows deeper, and her thin arms are locked around my neck.
My face is buried in her neck.
She places a kiss on my temple.
There’s just so damn much bouncing between us. Pure emotion. That affection and need that I’ve been drowning for all these years.
Choking madness of a dead man’s thirst.
Saved by this. The only person I’ve ever needed as much as I need air to breathe.
Kira. My sweet kitty.
“Oh God, Brayden. I’ve been so freaking worried about you.” More kisses to my temple, cheek, jaw. Sweet affectionate kisses. The kind that are meant to soothe.
I’m not thinking about that.
Sliding one hand down her back, I squeeze her ass and grind my hips into her.
She stutters my name and tries to pull back.
Refusing to release her, I take two steps into her room. Then, I put her down long enough to spin her around and press her against the wall next to the door.
“Brayden!” she hisses under her breath and tries to push off the wall.
Palming the back of her head, I hold her in place and yank down her tiny pajama shorts.
“Why are you doing this?” she whispers, trying to reach back for my wrist.
I ignore the question and ask one of my own, “Why couldn’t you tell him it’s me you want to be with?” Fisting her thong, I shove it down her hips and leave it trapped around her thighs.
No answer. Kira tenses, and I can almost imagine her pressing her lips together stubbornly.
Fine. We’ll deal with that later.