by Unknown
Fucks sake, I’d reverted to a boy in the schoolyard.
Back to the fantasy. Brighton was in my debt, and nothing short of proper chastisement would do. She’d made me wait. She alone had sentenced me to muddle through every insufferable day in her absence. Didn’t she know I couldn’t function without her? I wrapped my fingers around her throat and fucked her like a man possessed. If she’d forgotten how this worked, I’d be more than happy to remind her.
My eyes were nothing but vacuous pits of lust as I looked down upon her and shouted out my declarations of love and frustration. In the end, she’d cave recklessly to my every whim. We were simpatico, her and I. She loved to drip all over my cock while I tormented her. The dynamic of our connection couldn’t be recreated in the most intimate of sadomasochistic relationships. It was a perfect storm of events that catalyzed this bond.
From an outside perspective, my cruel and abhorrent behavior might appear nothing more than ire wrapped in thorns. At first, perhaps it was. But Brighton’s submission and thirsty demand for more forged something else. Devout worship for the creature who flirted with my darkest desires and begged them to come out and play. I was as much her servant as she was mine.
You’d probably assumed that my grief was to blame for my insanity. It wasn’t entirely true. It was Brighton. She made me fucking insane. Her beauty and absolute perfection dissolved any moral boundaries that may have existed within me. She hadn’t a clue that sometimes when I looked at her I could scarcely breathe. How my need for her outweighed everything else. It was the way she loved me in spite of it all that made me unable to walk away.
Misery and bliss wrestled inside of me at the silent admission and I choked out my release, spilling it across my abs like I was sixteen years old again. Pitiful. Even my cock thought so. My hand was a poor imitation of her.
I needed my light. I needed to know she was okay.
I rolled over to check my phone, and as promised, Mick had texted me every hour on the hour. There wasn’t anything to report. I sent Brighton a text.
I didn’t expect an answer. I never got one.
The nights were the worst of it. Not having her close, her heart beating a rhythmic tattoo across my chest. I was supposed to protect her, but instead, I’d been the one to hurt her. I couldn’t stop the horrific events of that night from playing through my mind. The fear and betrayal on her face and the stinging realization on mine. There was no forgiveness for what I’d done. I knew that. I would never forgive myself.
But this wasn’t about forgiveness. It wasn’t just want for her, it was vital need. She was the only antidote for the bleakness that lived inside of me. My goddess. My deity. I wasn’t a believer in any religion, but I’d make an exception in this case. I’d get down on my knees and worship at her alter every day if it brought her back to me.
I couldn’t take no for an answer. A better man would have. I had no claims on such titles. Causing her pain had never stopped me before. It was part of the process. I’d dole it out, and she’d accept.
This was a different kind of pain, I’d admit it. A whole different animal. So I’d indulge her some space. For now. It was generous for me. She didn’t grasp how the weight of my sins crushed my chest with every passing hour. How without her, there’d never be absolution.
Brighton saw the good in everyone. She saw good in me too. I’d believe for her sake it was true, lest my darkness swallow us both whole.
I still had Brayden to compete with. There weren’t enough choice words in my vocabulary to describe the many feelings I had about his weak and tarnished soul. But I wouldn’t ever lay a hand on him again. For Brighton’s sake.
She wouldn’t believe it, but there wasn’t even a question about it at this point. What happened that night couldn’t be undone, but it had undone something. I’d promptly realized I was far more selfish than could be considered purposeful. Five years of planning went out the window in the presence of five minutes of her pain. Thoughts of family and revenge forgotten, I’d learned there was something I wanted more. And I almost lost it that night through my own careless actions.
I’ve washed my hands of evil plotting. As much as I liked to hand out punishments, I wasn’t too proud to receive them when warranted. I shouldn’t have tried to kill her mom and brother, maybe. I’d even felt the tiniest flicker of regret, if you can believe it. You probably don’t, but who the hell gives a shit?
Brayden was digging his own grave anyway. Back in Chicago, he’d hooked up with the usual shady contacts. Did you expect anything more from an ex-con? Okay, let me rephrase that. Did you expect anything more from the son of Frank Gallo?
I sure as hell didn’t.
Still, I wondered if Brighton knew what he was up to. Or if she’d sent him to the same special purgatory that was reserved for me. Silence.
I only hoped Brayden didn’t go digging up old dirt. Nothing good could come of that. Frankie’s associates had been well and truly paid off, but I trusted them about as much as believed in unicorns. What they did to Brayden was of little consequence to me, but if they ever came after Brighton, they’d have a different beast to contend with.
I was the son of Michael Lockhart, but there were vast differences between him and I. Unlike Michael, I wasn’t afraid to protect the woman I loved. I’d single-handedly go to war and burn their whole organization to the ground before I ever let them harm what was mine. And there were no two ways about it-Brighton would always be mine.
Chapter Four
Brighton
We’d spent the weekend moving.
And by moving, I meant Nicole’s stuff. Because I’d left all of my meager belongings at Rylands. Nicole was nice enough to let me borrow her clothes in the meantime, but that wasn’t going to work forever. My belly had already grown, and soon I would need some real maternity clothes.
I bought a second hand sewing machine on Craigslist for that very purpose. It wasn’t a Singer, but I would take what I could get. Nicole and I continued to work on our project, and it was quickly expanding into something even bigger than I could have ever imagined. Once Nicole put her mind to something, she was truly unstoppable.
I really needed to find a real job though. I’d been pouring all of my spare time into sewing, and as much as I loved it, I had to be realistic. Everything was going to change in six months, and I needed to be financially prepared for that. Luckily for me, Matt said he might be able to help me out. He’d organized for me to talk to the owner of the dive bar where his waitress friend worked. They had an open position for a server, which wasn’t ideal, but it was a place to start. I was heading there this afternoon.
“You want me to drive you?” Nicole asked as I glanced at myself in the mirror.
Even with the flared waist of my dress, you could still see a little baby bump if you looked close enough. I chewed on my lip, and Nicole grinned.
“You look fine, Brighton. They won’t even notice.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Now get your butt in the car, or we’re going to be late.”
I followed her out of the apartment and to her car. It still felt weird every time I got into it, like I was breaking one of Ryland’s rules. I understood why he had that rule now. He was afraid of me getting into a crash.
Again, with the irony.
Nicole cruised down the street and punched the automatic door locks when we hit a red light. I didn’t blame her in this neighborhood, and it only added to my stress about what I was going to do. This wasn’t somewhere I wanted to raise a baby, but what choice did I have? Things weren’t any better back at Norma’s, and there was no way I’d let my baby grow up around that.
I needed to get my shit together, and quick.
“So Matt set this up?” Nicole asked, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel as she waited for the light to change.
“Yeah, it was really nice of him. I hope I get it.”
“Me too.” She gave me a weak smile. “But how did he even know abo
ut this job?”
There was something weird in her voice, and I started fidgeting with my cardigan. I didn’t want to upset her, but I didn’t want to lie either.
“He knows one of the waitresses there.”
She nodded, as though I only confirmed what she already knew. Her entire posture changed, and she got that faraway look in her eyes.
“We should meet up with him this week,” I suggested. “I know he’d love to see you.”
It took Nicole a minute to realize I was talking to her. “What?” she blinked. “Oh, yeah, sure. We could do that.”
Twenty minutes later, we walked inside the bar.
Nicole went and ordered a drink while I asked for the owner. He was an older gentleman by the name of David, and he put me at ease right away.
“Why don’t you have a seat, Brighton.” He gestured to the bar. “We can do a quick interview before the lunch crowd hits.”
I took a seat and David brought over a piece of paper with some questions scrawled across it. Luckily for me, they were all easy to answer, and I lied through my teeth. I told him I’d waitressed before, which wasn’t my finest moment, but I really needed this job. After five minutes, he set the paper down and gave me a grin.
“Well, Matt was right. I think you’ll do just fine. When can you start?”
I tried to contain my glee as I smiled back at him. “Whenever you need me to.”
“Okay, how about tomorrow night then? Six o’clock.”
I stood up and shook his hand. “Thanks David. Thank you so much.”
***
That night I texted Matt to tell him how grateful I was.
And then, as I curled into bed, I performed my evening ritual of reading through the texts Ryland sent me throughout the day. I still hadn’t found the courage to change my phone number. It was the last connection I had to him, and there was still a piece of me that just couldn’t let that go. But I would only ever allow myself to look at his texts once, and it was always at night before I went to sleep.
I scrolled through the screen and tried to keep my emotional armor on while I read his usual messages.
Baby girl.
Please talk to me.
I’m thinking of you right now.
I won’t tell you what, but just know
that if you were here,
You’d be sore as hell tomorrow.
I love you, Brighton.
I’m not giving up on us.
I closed my eyes and released a shaky breath. Every day, it was the same version of texts. He told me how much he missed me. Begged me to talk to him. And then, professed how much he loved me. He wasn’t shy about saying that at all now. But we still hadn’t really spoken about what happened.
He swore he was done with his revenge. That he fucked up, and he didn’t want to lose me. I wanted so badly to believe him. But he’d lied to me before, and I didn’t just have myself to think about anymore.
So I resorted to my heartbreaking ritual of typing out the same words I did every night. The message that I could never actually send.
I love you Ryland.
***
I glanced over my shoulder as I walked out of the doctor’s office and frowned. The same guy I’d seen earlier was still there, leaning against the brick wall. He was smoking a cigarette, his eyes scanning up and down the street. It was probably just a coincidence, but I could have sworn I saw him the week before too. And that was on the other side of the city.
“What’s the matter?” Nicole whispered.
“It’s just that guy,” I answered. “I don’t know, I thought I saw him last week around Misha’s place. And he’s been out here the whole time I was in my appointment. Am I being crazy paranoid?”
He looked at us, and I could have sworn guilt flickered across his face. There was something familiar about him. A hazy image of the man who cut the airbag in the car popped into my head, but I couldn’t place him now. Was this the same guy? He was huge. Like body builder type huge. Dark hair and dark appraising eyes. Nothing in particular about him stood out, apart from the fact that he was dressed in a nice suit. It was odd for this neighborhood.
“I don’t know.” Nicole tugged on my arm. “But let’s not stick around to find out.”
We walked down the street, and when I glanced back over my shoulder, he was gone. Matt met us at a café around the corner, buying us both a hot chocolate and a muffin for lunch.
“So?” he raised his brows. “How did it go?”
“Good.” I nodded. “I’m not scheduled to have an ultrasound for a while, but I just wanted to get established with the doctor.”
“Gotcha.” Matt looked confused. This was definitely not his department.
“Sooo….” He swung his gaze to Nicole. “Misha said you were moving out?”
Nicole and I both looked at each other. We hadn’t really planned on how we were going to break the news to Matt.
“What is it?” he asked.
“We are moving out.” Nicole fiddled with a packet of sugar, her eyes looking everywhere but at him. “Brighton and I got an apartment together. In fact, we moved this weekend.”
“Oh.” Matt’s tone dropped. “Where at?”
“Well, I think for now, it would be best if nobody else knew.”
Matt narrowed his eyes and worked his jaw. He definitely wasn’t happy about this. At all.
“Nicole…”
“I’m not accountable to you,” she cut him off. “I don’t have to tell you where I’m at or what I’m doing.”
I shot her a pleading glance. I knew she wasn’t telling him because he would worry, but this wasn’t the way to go about it. She was only pushing him further away.
“Right.” He stood up and set down his unfinished coffee. “I get it, Nicole. I was just trying to look out for you. As a friend. Because that’s what friends do. But I guess I had it all wrong.”
Her lip wobbled, but she didn’t say another word. So Matt walked out the door.
***
I collapsed onto my bed with a sigh. Today had been exhausting already, and I still had to work in an hour. I was nervous as hell.
Working as a receptionist was easy for me because it took minimal coordination. Waitressing on the other hand… I didn’t know how I was going to handle it. But how hard could it be?
My phone chimed. I was afraid to even look at it, but I couldn’t resist.
Missing you, baby girl.
The office isn’t the same without you.
They were Ryland’s usual texts. But as I scrolled down, I noticed there were a lot more today. And panic set in when I realized why.
Why were you at the doctor, Brighton?
What’s wrong?
Don’t punish me this way.
I need to know you’re okay.
Please, baby girl.
I stopped reading. I knew he’d be freaking out and thinking the worst. It hurt me, but I couldn’t break my rule. I couldn’t text him back. Because that would be opening a door I wouldn’t be able to close again. And I needed to be more concerned about the fact that he knew what I was doing.
It was that guy loitering outside of the building, it had to be.
I needed to be more careful. The last thing I wanted was for Ryland to figure out where I was living.
Chapter Five
Ryland
Unfuckingbelievable.
Did you know that science has actually proved swearing to be cathartic? Wonder how much it cost to figure that one out. I could’ve told them for free.
Brighton was poking the beast inside of me with her invisible stick. Would it be hypocritical to say that I didn’t like her keeping secrets from me? I'd tasted my own medicine, and it was bitter. So very bitter.
Still, she knew how I handled this kind of shit. I didn’t. Something was wrong, and she hadn’t cracked her code of silence after any of my various texts. My frustration bled through the messages the longer this act of rebellion carried on. Usually a good dose of m
y cantankerous attitude would do the trick. Brighton didn’t like confrontation. She didn’t like anyone to worry. She was always so goddamned concerned about everybody but herself. Often, I could twist that in my favor, because… well, let’s be frank, a man such as myself needed her reassurances. But this time she wasn’t giving them. Cruel and unusual punishment, I’d say.
She’d know someone on my payroll was keeping an eye on her now. What did it matter? Brighton should know my M.O. Mick wasn’t just following her around for information. He was there to keep her safe. It was what I liked to call compromise. But I only had so much patience, and she’d just stretched it to the limit.
“Why didn’t you follow her inside?” I blared through the phone.
“She was onto me,” Mick rumbled. “You said not to get too close.”
“So you lost her completely?” My indignation was not well hidden.
“I thought you didn’t want me to scare her.”
Ah, touché Mick. Pulling out that old fucking chestnut. No, I didn’t want him to scare her. And if she had any recollection of who he was, she probably would be scared.
“Not happy, Mick.” I rocked back in my chair and squinted at the bottle of Macallan across the room. I knew what I’d be doing as soon as this call was finished.
“I know, boss.”
“How many doctors are in that building?”
“A lot, sir.”
I could probably get her medical records. Eventually. But I’d need to know the doctor first. And if Brighton ever found out, she’d lay into me with a whole speech about ‘right and wrong’. I hardly needed to supply extra reasons to hate me, so I’d put it on hold. For now.