I shook my head as the tears started streaming on my face. I kept it together in the car, but suddenly I felt like that had been enough. “I told you I started dating a guy. But he wasn’t what I thought.”
My father’s eyebrows came together. “Did he hurt you?”
I put my hands up in protest, “Nothing like that, it’s just… he’s a fighter. That’s his profession, an MMA fighter. And he’s one of the best in the city. But a couple weeks ago he got into this underground fight and he got beat really bad. I was there when they took him to the hospital and everything. I thought now that he was out and starting to feel better that he would, I don’t know, make better choices? But instead I find out that he’s doing drugs! Oxycodone. And he thinks that it’s nothing! I just don’t know what to do. I care about him, I’ve no idea why, but I do. But he just keeps pushing me away.”
My mother rubbed my back as the tears kept coming. “Honey, you just have to help him through this.”
Of course that’s what my mother would say—she stood by my father through his accident and the ordeal that followed. Years of surgery and rehabilitation. Suddenly I felt so small standing next to her. I couldn’t even get through one argument with Dillon without allowing him to end our relationship. I gave him all the power, and that was my fault. “I just don’t think that I can! He doesn’t want me to. He just wants to be alone and keep going as he is. There is just a part of me that thought he wanted to be better. That we could make each other better.”
My father continued to sit in silence, which was unlike him. He usually was the one to come to for sage advice, but this time he seemed to lack any real thoughts about the situation. I couldn’t help but be disappointed.
My mother crossed her arms. I thought it was meant to be a dainty gesture; however, when she looked at my father I saw steely glare in her eyes. “You have to tell her.”
He ran his hands through his salt and pepper hair before spinning his wheelchair around to face me. “You should sit down. Your mother’s right, I should tell you.”
I shook my head in confusion, “Tell me what? I thought that you two would be upset. I just told you that my brand-new boyfriend does drugs! And you want to have a sit down?” This wasn’t like my parents at all. What was so important that they had to tell me? When they didn’t speak I slowly sat down on the sofa and waited.
Finally my father sighed, “You should know about what happened to me after the accident. After all of those surgeries and finding out that I wouldn’t be governor anymore, I became addicted to my pain pills.” He hung his head in shame and my mother came over and put her hand on his shoulder. He reached out with his left hand and squeezed hers tightly. I could tell that admitting this to me was killing him. Here I was complaining about my boyfriend and his drug problem when it turned out that my father had one. My brave, strong, and extremely stoic father had a drug problem. Dillon was much more volatile and dangerous than he was, so maybe I had jumped to conclusions too fast.
“How long did this go on?”
My father kept his head down and my mother answered instead. “Almost two years. We were at the point where we were going to have to try rehab when your father agreed to go cold turkey. We told you and your brother that he got an infection when really he was going through withdrawal symptoms.”
“But how did you get them? I mean, was your doctor just writing you a prescription?” That didn’t seem right. My father had hardly any pain after his last surgery. What doctor in their right mind would continue to prescribe him super addictive pain medication?
This time my father spoke, “When you’re a powerful man, drugs aren’t hard to come by. And honestly, for someone like Dillon, he was probably spacing them out. Only feeling like he needed to use them before a fight. Or maybe he was getting them on the street. But then he was in even more dangerous territory, because they could be fake, or he could be getting them from someone who could really hurt him. Either way you don’t want to mess with someone who’s on pain killers. Addicts are dangerous.”
“You’re not dangerous!” I protested. I stood up and walked over to my father, kneeling down in front of him. “Even now I don’t think you’re dangerous. And I really appreciate your honesty. I’m glad that you told me. It gives me a whole new perspective about what Dillon is going through. I know what it was like for you to lose the governor’s position, and that’s how Dillon feels about fighting. It’s his passion; his whole life is built around it. If he felt like he couldn’t fight anymore, he would do anything to make sure that he could.”
“I thought that I would do anything, but then I realized I had what was most important to me. My family and my life. If that bullet had hit me any higher”—he paused, sucking in a deep breath—“I wouldn’t be here. I am lucky that it was a bad shot, paralyzed or not. I’m just lucky to be alive. And Dillon should feel the same way. We read the article about the fighter getting beat almost to death. I had no idea it was him, of course, but he barely made it out of there.”
I tried to chase away the tears that I felt stinging at the corners of my eyes. But they were right. In that moment in the ring I had thought I lost him. Part of me felt like I had willed him to live, and he had been so lucky. “But he pushed me away. He told me he was no good for me, that he couldn’t be with someone like me.”
My mother had a sad smile on her face. “Honey, he did that to protect you. Your father asked for a separation at least three times while he was involved with drugs. He wanted to keep me safe, it had nothing to do with him. Dillon just doesn’t want to see you get hurt.”
“But he doesn’t control what I do. I do.” I slowly stood up, giving my father peck on the cheek as I did so. I have to go back and see him.”
“We know. But you can eat dinner with us and stay the night, give him some time to think about it. Maybe he’ll come to you,” my mother said optimistically.
“Maybe.” I chewed on my lower lip as I thought about Dillon walking into my grandiose home. He would feel so out of place here. It would prove his point of us not being right for each other. I would have to get to him first. It was the only way.
I stayed the rest of the weekend with my parents, just waiting for Dillon to call. But he didn’t. On Sunday afternoon I drove back to campus and did homework for the rest of the evening to prepare for my classes the next week. I then pulled out my résumé and looked up some internships online. Anything that would get me a job after college, even if it didn’t pay very much. I applied to a couple and was just filling in one of the final references when my phone rang. I grabbed it, praying it was Dillon, but it was a number I didn’t recognize. I answered it anyway.
“Is this Berkley?”
“Yes. Can I help you?”
“It’s Leo. Dillon’s manager. He asked that I call you.”
My heart leapt up in my chest. “He did? Is he okay?”
“He’s going to be. He told me about his problem.” I could tell the words were difficult for him to get out because he kept pausing at awkward points. “He’s in rehab. And he’s going to be there for a couple weeks. He wanted you to know.”
So he was getting help. Did this mean that there is a chance for us? “Did he say anything else about me?”
“No honey, I’m sorry. I won’t bother you again.” And with that he hung up. Dillon was in some type of rehabilitation facility and I was sitting here updating my résumé. Maybe we were both moving in the right direction, even though they were different ones.
I didn’t hear from Dillon at all while he was in rehab. I went to class and made phone interviews, just did my own thing. There were a couple good parties in there, too. I would miss those after college. But I checked my phone obsessively and got nothing. It had been almost three weeks when I finally heard from him. And it wasn’t in the way I was expecting.
“Someone’s here for you, Berkley!” I heard one of my sisters yell up the stairs. We pretty much had an open door policy for friends on campus, so it had to be someon
e that they didn’t know, or family.
I walked out of my bedroom and down the flight of stairs to see Dillon, still bruised, standing in the door holding a dozen roses. “What are you doing here?”
He stepped across the threshold and pushed the flowers in my face. “I’m really sorry if this isn’t okay. But part of my therapy is to make amends with the people I hurt. And that sounds like some bullshit, which it totally is. But I have to do it. And I hurt you Berkley. And somehow by hurting you I hurt myself. So here are some flowers, and I’m sorry. I will never bother you again.”
He turned to leave when I reached out to him. “You’re not bothering me. Why don’t you come upstairs?” Away from all of my sisters’ prying eyes. “I want to hear about everything. Please come upstairs and tell me.”
Naomi stood in the kitchen where I could see her, and she simply nodded at me. An unspoken rule about having boys over: your roommate stays out.
We walked into my bedroom, and I perched myself on the edge of my bed holding the flowers up to my nose. They smelled amazing. “These are really beautiful. They actually told you to buy these in rehab?”
He shrugged, looking around my room. He was almost pacing but slower, like being here made him anxious. “They didn’t say anything about flowers, but you seem like the type of girl who likes flowers.”
“Well you are right about that. So how was it?”
He turned around and looked at me, his piercing blue eyes boring right through me. “It kind of sucked. Withdrawal isn’t really fun, especially when you’re already in pain from getting the shit kicked out of you. But after the symptoms ended, I was okay. But then last week we had to talk about our feelings, and then I wasn’t okay again. But I haven’t used, not once since you left.”
“Why haven’t you?”
“Because I couldn’t have you. I can’t have both. Leo helped me see that. But even after therapy, I’m still an addict. I’m still no good for you.”
I wasn’t going to let him pull this again. I was taking control of the situation, regardless of what he wanted.
I set down the flowers on the bedside table. He hardly noticed, his eyes never leaving mine.
“I want to be with you!” I said in a rushed whisper, willing him to grasp how much I missed him.
“But I—” he stammered, appearing totally baffled as to what to do with me. I was in control, and he didn’t know how to handle it.
“You what? You got clean. Why?”
He looked at his hands, picking an old scab. “For you.”
My heart pounded in my chest. “For me?”
“Yeah. I mean, they say I’m going to have to work really hard, but I found a therapist and I…”
I wrapped my arms around him and landed a kiss on his soft lips. He fell back onto the bed, and I didn’t let him go. He tasted sweet and alluring. He kissed me softly at first and then his kisses became more fevered, as if he needed my mouth on his. His tongue slipped into my mouth and I claimed it. I sucked him slowly, tasting him. His ran his hands up my body to my breast, and he kneaded it softly. He began pulling off my t-shirt, tossing it aside. We paused and I felt myself fall into his blue eyes. I was always falling into them.
“I am so proud of you.”
“I don’t deserve that,” he admitted.
“Then spend however long you need proving that to me. As long as you promise to do it just like this.” I nipped his bottom lip and that set him off. His eyes narrowed and in a moment he flipped me onto my back and leaned his body over mine. I had forgotten how strong he was.
His hand rested in my hair as it splayed out on the bed.
“All I wanted to do was get better so I could fight again. How the hell did I forget, for even a moment, how much I wanted to fuck you?”
“No idea. You have lots of time to make up for.” I smiled, though all I could think about was what he looked like naked. I had missed this. He laid kisses down my neck, and when he reached my chest he pulled down my bra so my nipples were exposed. He bit down on the right one, sending a sensation through my body that made my panties wet. I moaned softly as he replaced his mouth with his fingers and pulled on my nipple, causing an ache between my legs. Fuck, he was good. He continued playing with my nipples, and I moaned as pleasure built up in my body. My hand reached down and I massaged the front of his pants, where his hard cock pushed against his pants.
“Take off your pants,” he instructed in a gruff voice. “I have some repaying to do.”
I slipped out of my jeans and watched as he tantalizingly removed my underwear. Dillon dropped down before me and licked my pussy slowly as if he was licking an ice cream cone on a hot summer day. It felt incredible as his tongue lapped up my juices, sending a tingle throughout my body. He sucked my clit into his mouth, and I moaned loudly as my pussy dripped.
“Oh God...oh God...” My words failed me as a guttural groan escaped my lips.
“Tell me. Say you want it.”
I could hardly catch my breath. “I want it. Fuck, I want it.”
He was still sucking on my clit when he buried a finger inside my pussy and started pumping. It was too much, too much all at once, and I cried out softly. He curled his fingers upwards as he pumped in and out, hitting my G-spot. He flicked his tongue faster and pushed his fingers up harder as I had an orgasm so delicious that I wanted even more. I was aching all over and I didn't want it to end, not for a second.
As I was coming down from my high, I watched as Dillon removed his own pants. He turned me over on my stomach, pulled me up onto my knees, spread my legs wide, and slipped himself inside. I leaned my head back, delirious with pleasure. Dillon fit inside me perfectly, and I got a wave of pleasure every time he moved. With his hands on my hips, he began pumping me faster, harder with every thrust. He reached his left hand up and started to tug my hair back. He hit my G-spot again and again, and I trembled under the pressure. His right hand reached between my legs and started to rub my clit in time with the thrusts of his hips.
As he pumped harder I knew I wouldn’t last long.
“That feels so good,” I mumbled between breaths. That caused him to only move faster. My whole body shuddered as he started to push me over the edge. I let my body give in to the orgasm as he pushed up hard inside me and moved his fingers faster on my clit. He continued pumping his hips, breaking all reason in my mind. I was having the best sex of my life and I didn’t care if all my sisters heard my cries.
His body tensed as he spilled his seed into me and he fell on top of me, exhausted.
“You make me crazy,” he whispered against my temple.
“That makes two of us.”
He pulled back and looked into my eyes. “What does this mean for us?”
“I guess we’re together. I mean, that’s what I want.”
A smug smile played on his lips. “Well you do always seem to get what you want.”
“I’m used to it.”
He pulled out and lay down next to me on the bed, our naked bodies practically glowing in the afternoon sun. “There’s something I want, too.”
I turned on my side to look at him. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“I want to beat Georgie’s best guy. Legit, in the cage. Prove to everyone he’s just a punk in a suit.”
“That’s going to take a lot of training and rehab.”
“Yeah. But I gotta do it. Earn back my title.”
I nodded. I had guessed this was coming. “A month? Give yourself a full month of recuperation, then do it.”
“Done.”
EIGHTEEN
ONE MONTH LATER
DILLON
“Tell me again,” I pleaded with her.
“I’m not going to say good luck again. You don’t need luck. You’re going to beat this guy without a problem! You have been working so hard.”
She was right, I had been. Ever since the doctor cleared me to start hitting the gym again, I’d been there eight hours a day, seven days a week. I had never trai
ned so hard in my entire life, but I wasn’t going to let Georgie’s guy beat me again. And this time it was a fair fight. One-on-one, in the cage. And it was a legit fight, none of that underground bullshit that I thought I wanted. The purse was still good, enough to pay Leo back for the money that he had let me borrow to go into rehab. Plus a little left over for maybe a nice dinner for my mom and him.
I had known something was going on with them for years, but neither of them would ever admit it. But it seemed that my injuries had brought them closer together. Or maybe it was seeing Berkley and me overcome our obstacles. And I’d certainly thrown a few in our way. Rehab had been an experience. One I would never forget, and one I didn’t want to repeat. I thought about Berkley the entire time— she was the whole reason I was there. I could’ve gone on living and fighting with the drugs. But I couldn’t have gone on without her.
She gave me a quick peck on the cheek before leaving the locker room. I watched her hips swing back and forth as she slipped behind the metal door and out into the crowd. I could never get enough of her. Suddenly I was alone with my thoughts. A dangerous place to be for former addict. I still had some lighter pain medication in my bag in case I needed it for my face. And while I sat alone on the wooden bench I considered reaching and grabbing a few. It wouldn’t give me the high I needed, but it would make it just like any other fight. I hadn’t won in over two years without slipping some pills beforehand.
I don’t need them, I told myself. I walked over to the mirror above the sinks and looked at myself. My eye would never be completely back to the way it was. Reconstructive surgery can only fix so much. But it was a reminder of what had been. I felt a little bit like a monster, but that was the old me. Looking at the other side of my face, the clear tanned skin, the dark blue eyes, that was the new me. And that was the me I would be with Berkley going forward. No more pushing away, I was here to fight. For her, and for me.
Leo opened the door just a crack behind me and called in, “You ready, kid?”
I inhaled through my nose and clenched my fists under the wraps. “Damn straight.”
Triplets Make Five: An Enemies to Lovers Secret Baby Romance Page 58