Stolen Soulmate

by Mary Catherine Gebhard

  “Please, Grayson,” was all I said.

  Raw hurt bled from his face. “You really think I’d do that?”

  I didn’t know what he’d do.

  “Grayson!” The voice ripped both of our attention away.

  “Lottie, what? How did you get in—” Lottie jumped into Grayson’s arms, kissing him hard. He looked into my eyes, until I tore my eyes away, back to Uncle.

  When it rains, it pours most people said.

  My mom always said when you bleed, you’re a cut away from bleeding out.

  She was fucked like that.

  “Oh, what…” Lottie’s enthusiasm drained, spotting Uncle. “What’s going on?”

  As if in answer, a horde of paramedics rushed his room, taking the stairs two at a time. Lottie grasped Grayson’s hand as paramedics strapped my uncle to a board, carrying him down the stairs.

  “I better—” I started.

  “Yeah,” Grayson finished.

  GRAY

  * * *

  “That was intense,” Lottie said, a few minutes after everyone had cleared out.

  I still stared at my bedroom door, picturing Story’s confused, hurt face. She’d only agreed to this for Woodsy. Somehow that was so much worse than if she’d just wanted to use me for money.

  In no way, shape, or form had she ever wanted to be involved.

  Fuck.

  Before I’d felt like slime; now I was slime.

  I fell back onto my couch, head in my hands. Woodsy’s cancer was back. We barely beat it the last time, and the stubborn old man refused to let me pay for any of it. Fuck that. Not this time.

  How bad was it?

  I needed to call the hospital, call the doctors like last time. Get him the best—

  Lottie entwined her hand with mine. When had she sat beside me?

  “It’s really sweet how you help your servants,” she said.

  Servant.

  I really fucking hate that word.

  “I was a little scared when I saw her in your room…but now I see she was just cleaning.”

  Just cleaning. She wasn’t just cleaning—she fucking belonged here. In my bed. In my veins.

  I didn’t like leaving her, letting her go to deal with her uncle on her own. She was afraid, and I wanted to be there.

  I glanced at the hand in mine, itchy inside my skin, itchy in my blood.

  “I’m sorry for just showing up. I really wanted to continue what we started last night. I guess I snuck in.”

  Lottie wove her hands in my hair, dragging me for a kiss. Soft kisses. Teasing kisses. Gentle kisses that weren’t bad but weren’t fucking Story.

  Why couldn’t I let her go? So many mistakes at every turn…bringing her to my wing.

  Letting her stay.

  The deal.

  The contract.

  Lies I’d said were to get the girl I finally had in my arms, against my lips, but were really to keep Story around.

  Lottie trailed a hand down my chest, to the outside of my pants, rubbing my cock. Biology had me hard. It felt good, and Lottie’s soft kisses didn’t feel bad.

  Do it. Fucking do it. Get it over with. Lose the thing that’s become like a damn anchor. I’ve given it too much control, given them too much control, and Grandpa always said you don’t give control without losing power. So just fucking do it with the girl who is supposed to be my soul mate.

  I tore Lottie’s hands off, standing off the couch, putting distance between us.

  “I…fuck. I can’t. Lottie, I can’t do this to you.”

  What the ever-loving fuck is WRONG WITH ME?

  Why can’t I just do it?

  I’m everything my grandfather says I am.

  A pussy.

  A fucking coward.

  Lottie chewed her full, glossy lip. “It’s because of her, right? The servant?”

  I pushed my hands through my hair. Outside the sun was bright through the wispy, foggy marine layer. Was this because of Story Hale?

  The more I touched Story, the deeper she sank. She was ink in the water of my soul, spreading, changing the color and make of me. I wanted to kiss her so fucking bad. So goddamn bad. Taste me on her. I ground my jaw until the grinding echoed in my skull.

  My self-control was a wire-thin thread that frayed every second I was with her. I was beginning to think the minute I plunged my cock inside her wouldn’t remove me but seal myself inside her permanently. The problem was, I wasn’t sure what I wanted anymore.

  Even if she couldn’t acknowledge what we were, I couldn’t ignore it any longer.

  “What did last night mean to you?” Lottie asked, no longer waiting for me to respond. Fear of my answer made her voice needle thin.

  “I was using you,” I answered honestly. “She was in the room. And after…I was with her—”

  Her palm collided with my cheek, her slap harsh and stinging, but the tears in her eyes branded much worse.

  “I hate you,” she said with a trembling voice.

  I sat on the edge of my bed, dragging my hands through my hair.

  “You don’t like me,” I said, finding Lottie’s eyes. “You’re only trying to make it work because you have to.”

  “I do. I do like you. I thought by turning you down I was saving myself from my fate. I told myself I wasn’t going to do this,” Lottie said. “I wasn’t going to be like my grandmother and mother and sister. I wasn’t going to end up in a marriage with a man with a wandering heart. And you’re Playboy Gray, the boy whose heart only knows how to wander.”

  I never really understood the term knock me over with a feather until now. She liked me?

  “I like you, Grayson,” she said quietly. “You were always my Prince Charming, and I’ve always wanted to be your princess. From the very first day we met, to that day at Rosey, to now. I was afraid, and I thought pushing you away would make it better. That it would hurt less when you didn’t like me back. It didn’t. It made it worse. I really like you, Grayson.”

  We stared at one another, the same realization shadowing our faces. If only we’d been honest from the start, maybe when we fell in love, it would have been at the same time.

  “It was always supposed to be you,” I said quietly, taking her hand. Tears glittered in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Lottie. She’s inside me. Shit. I can’t fucking let her go.”

  “It’s my fault,” she mumbled, numb. “You gave me every opportunity to love you, and I was too afraid.”

  She swallowed and straightened her back; then the Lottie I knew returned. “So we do what everyone else does, a marriage in name only.”

  “I don’t want that kind of marriage,” I gritted.

  “Are you going to cancel?” Wonder spread across her face, knowing what that meant.

  “No.”

  And just like that wonder shattered into misery. “So she’s going to keep staying with you.”

  Obviously I couldn’t do that anymore. I rubbed my forehead, unsure of what to do. I can’t let her go. I can’t keep hurting Lottie.

  Fuck.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted.

  Lottie rolled her lips. “Is it love? Do you love her?”

  Her laugh. Her smile. Her brazen honesty. Her death-wish questions. The way she glared. The way she challenged me. Those eyes, how they see into my soul.

  Is that love?

  It can’t be, because I can’t be in love.

  I shrugged. “Nah.”

  “Okay. Just get it out of your system before the wedding. In the end, it doesn’t really matter who we love. You’ll still be my husband, and I’ll still be your wife.”

  Forty

  STORY

  * * *

  I spent days with my uncle at the clinic. It provided a pretty decent distraction from what I’d had to leave behind. Now today was Abigail’s birthday, I thought absently. I’d memorized her calendar ages ago, and days popped out and poked me like pin needles. End of July, Ms. Abigail’s birthday, don’t forget to steam her towels and
prep her tea each morning…

  But that was all before.

  Now, as Uncle was seen by the doctor, I was in the billing department, ready to beg the surly woman behind the desk for a payment plan. My mind kept drifting back to what I’d left behind.

  Lottie kissing Grayson. Lottie in his bedroom.

  “Excuse me,” the woman snapped. “Name.”

  “Oh, excuse me.” I shook the image out of my head. “I’m here to see if I can set up a payment plan for my uncle Woodson Hale.”

  She typed his name into her computer, and my mind wandered again.

  Grayson never allowed anyone in his bedroom…except me. How foolish was it to think that I could be the only girl when he had a real girl?

  Did they sleep together?

  “It’s all paid for.”

  I stared, stunned, at the billing woman. “What do you mean it’s all paid for? By who?”

  She didn’t even look up from her computer. “We can’t give that information out.”

  “But…”

  She slowly looked up at me, giving me the coldest glare. “Do you have more business?”

  “I mean, no, I suppose not…”

  When I got back to my uncle, he was eating a red Popsicle and sitting upright in a teal hospital chair. He had his trademark smile on, even in the face of death, but fear knotted my throat.

  “Who is paying for your treatment?” I asked.

  He slowly lowered his Popsicle. “I can’t tell you that, Story.”

  A look crossed his face.

  Shame.

  I’d never seen the look on my uncle’s face before.

  That told me everything I needed to know. Instead of clarifying, it made things murkier. Of course I meant nothing to Gray. It was only because he had a relationship with my uncle.

  “I can pay,” I said. “It’s different now. We don’t have to take his money.”

  You don’t.

  “I’d like to leave you with something, Story,” he said, patting my hand.

  Leave me.

  I took a seat on a free chair beside him, mustering the courage to ask a question I really didn’t want the answer to.

  “How long do you have? Really? Don’t lie to me.”

  He exhaled. “A year, maybe two.”

  A year.

  The answer ricocheted inside me. I was thankful I’d already sat down. A year left with my uncle. A year with the only real family I’d ever known.

  He grabbed my hand, and I found his eyes, trying to keep my own from watering. It wasn’t his fault; he shouldn’t have to see me hysterical.

  “Miss me one place?” he said.

  “Find you another…”

  GRAY

  * * *

  “Did you pay for my uncle’s treatment?” Story’s husky, angry voice stopped me in my tracks.

  I rubbed my eye. “I don’t see how that’s any of your fucking business.”

  Story ran after me, running in front of me, cutting me off. “Did you even notice I was gone?”

  Yes.

  Every fucking night I went to bed with nothing save the sound of waves. I couldn’t sleep without her. My eyes ached from it. I wondered every moment how Woodsy was doing. I wanted to go check on him, as it had been days since I’d seen Story, but while she cared for her uncle, my family combusted, self-destructed, and I played an integral part.

  Hours had passed since my sister Abigail’s birthday party. Another shitshow. Abigail had cut Gemma’s long, trademark hair and screamed something about her taking the damn dog, Theo.

  More fucking family drama.

  Albeit…a little funny.

  I pushed her aside. “Not really.”

  Hurt slashed her eyes, and her jaw quirked. I pushed past her, not quite sure where I was headed. I’d just left the library and was in the heart of the house. A few feet in one direction was my mother’s favorite room, the sunroom. I could also go left, or right, and be in either Gemma or Abigail’s wing.

  “You have the biggest heart of anyone I know, so why do you keep acting like you don’t?” Story yelled.

  “Because everyone I’ve ever known just wants to rip it out.” I spun, yelling so my voice echoed across the halls and towering ceilings. “Until you,” I added quietly.

  Her eyes grew.

  “Grayson?” my mother’s voice called out from the sunroom. “Is that you?”

  Fuck.

  Not a great spot to have this conversation.

  I closed the distance, dragging Story by the wrist into Gemma’s wing. Last I heard, she was out getting her hair fixed.

  “Gemma’s wing?” she whispered. “Won’t we get in trouble?”

  Gemma had fewer security measures than me. Her hallways weren’t guarded, but her bedroom was watched like the fucking White House. She always whined and said it was because Grandfather didn’t care about who came in—he cared about if she got out.

  I slammed my arm above Story’s head, caging her.

  “I don’t have a heart. Stop looking at me like I do, stop expecting it. Do you want to know what I was doing while you were in the clinic with your sick uncle? I was meeting with the dog that broke Abby’s heart, getting bribed by the last of his money, so I could throw her birthday party.”

  “But that’s nice—” she started before I interrupted.

  “And I only did it so I could burn that twenty grand.”

  She sucked in a sharp inhale.

  So many sins that were nothing in the grand scheme of things but weighed like an anchor, because Story won’t stop fucking looking at me like I’m decent.

  I’m not fucking decent.

  I wonder what it would feel like to apologize to my sisters. Weird. Just the thought made my stomach twist. They’d think I had a tumor. If they apologized to me…I’d think the same.

  Some cracks are too wide to fix.

  Her brows pinched. “Why?”

  “Why do you think I’m capable of anything else?” I growled.

  I ripped her palm away, but she grabbed me, dragged me back. “You must have a reason for it all.”

  Maybe it was revenge for him breaking my sister’s heart.

  Maybe I knew my mother wouldn’t throw any kind of decent party for Abby.

  I ran a knuckle down her face. “No, little nun, I don’t.”

  “You’re not going to scare me away,” she said. “I’m here. Even after she was in your room. Even after you slept with her.”

  Anger choked her words.

  I knew I should let her believe I had. Prop up some kind of distance. Story didn’t want me. She didn’t even want my money. I was getting sucked into someone who wouldn’t just take a piece of me—they could take all of me.

  “I didn’t sleep with her,” I said, hoarse. “I didn’t fuck her.”

  “You didn’t?” She lifted her head, eyes locking with mine.

  “I couldn’t. You’re inside me, Story.”

  STORY

  * * *

  He pressed me deeper against the wall, one arm still over my head.

  “I can’t stop thinking about you, Snitch. I keep trying, but you’re on my mind when I wake up, when I sleep, in my dreams.”

  “What you taste like.” His lips fluttered against the flesh of my ear.

  “What you sound like.” He pressed his knee against my core, and a whimper fell from my lips. He pulled back, his forehead pressed to mine. It created a shadow, a secret just for us. His eyes locked on my lips, hooded and burning, jaw squared so tight.

  “She’s my fiancée,” he said, voice thick. “She’s the girl I’ve always wanted. She’s perfect for me. I should want to marry her, but every fucking minute I see you.”

  It wasn’t I want you. I choose you over her. It wasn’t a promise. It wasn’t an apology. It was a thousand miles below what I deserved, and yet I would’ve taken even less.

  “I’m not going to be the girl you cheat with,” I whispered. “I’m not going to be that girl, Grayson.”
/>   “I’m not going to be that guy,” he growled.

  Then what is this?

  His jaw was clenched so tight, and he was so close, I could see the pain cracking in his blue eyes.

  “You’re the only friend I have, Story. With you, I don’t have to lie. You see me. I can’t lose that. I can’t lose you.”

  “You’re the only person with whom I’ve ever had to lie.” The words tumbled and fell with the tears I’d been trying to hide.

  He froze. “What?”

  I shook my head, as if I could swallow the words, seal the hole I’d just punched in my heart.

  He gripped my chin, trying to force my gaze to his. “Why, Snitch? Why are you lying?”

  I exhaled, defeated. I was tired of lying, tired of pretending.

  I met his eyes. “Because from that very first moment we kissed, I knew if I didn’t watch out, you could destroy me.”

  His fingers turned bruising. “More.”

  “Because I like you. I more than like you, but if I stop lying, if I tell you the truth, if I tell you everything—” I broke off. “But I don’t have any reason to stay. I don’t need your money.”

  “I guess it’s a good thing I had you sign a fucking contract this time,” he growled.

  “Is that what’s keeping me here?” I asked.

  “Is it?” he demanded.

  A moment passed like forever. Grayson still hadn’t told me he loved me. He hadn’t really given me anything. But someone had to be honest.

  “No,” I confessed. “I lo—”

  “Why is she with you?” Ms. Abigail’s trembling, out-of-control voice cut me off. It sliced through the moment like a guillotine, and I glanced to my left, finding her pointing at me. “She’s my girl.”

  Gray curled his fist into the wall above me, jaw clenched tight, eyes burning. Why was Abigail even in Gemma’s wing? They hated each other.

  He stared at me a moment longer, then pushed off the wall.

  I wasn’t sure if I’d been saved.

  “She’s my girl now,” he said, and stepped in front of me.

  For a moment I couldn’t hear over the rushing of blood in my ears. It was different than the times before, the thorns lifted, letting me in, cocooning me in his dark, tender possession.