by Bella Jewel
“He’s still asleep.”
“Those pills should keep him down for a solid eight hours,” Blade says, placing two cups of tea down onto the table for us.
“Thanks,” I whisper, staring at the milky tea and wondering how in the hell we’re going to get through this.
Right now, I honestly don’t know.
Is there even a way to get through something this truly awful?
“He’s not going to make it through this,” I whisper, staring at the mug. “He barely made it through the last person he lost, and now this. You know he’ll blame himself, he already is. He’s going to take this to heart, take it to a place that he can’t come back from. He’ll never recover. I don’t know where to go from here.”
“He’ll recover,” Blade says, gripping my shoulder. “Give him a chance. It’s goin’ to hurt, he’s goin’ to go through a lot, but he’ll recover. He’s got all of us. He’s strong. We’ll get him through.”
“And if we don’t?” I rasp, looking up at him. “What if this is the breaking point. He can’t take anymore blame.”
“This ain’t his fault,” Blade murmurs. “I’ll make sure he knows it.”
“You might, but that doesn’t mean he’ll believe it, Blade. I don’t think he’ll believe a single thing we say to him right now.”
“We’ll make him …”
“It’ll be okay, honey,” Aria says. “It’ll all be okay.”
But she’s wrong.
It won’t be okay.
I saw something in Brody’s eyes tonight, that I’ve never seen before. This emptiness. This broken bitterness that was all-consuming. This will destroy him, little by little. This, in his mind, is the second person he’s let down in his life. He’s not going to see that as just a bad coincidence, he’s going to see that as him failing. He’s going to think of all the ways he could have done better. He’s going to drown.
I don’t think there is going to be a way for me to raise him up this time.
I’m terrified. Utterly terrified.
“Brody said more was going on,” Blade asks, sitting down beside me. “Did he speak to you about it?”
“Briefly,” I whisper. “He mentioned that Mick had told him he stole money and drugs from some man he was fighting, and that man was also after him. One of them got to Mick’s mom and then his sister.”
“What?” Aria cries. “Are they okay?”
“Beat up, but okay. I had to make some calls this afternoon. Mick was freaking out. He was high, Brody said, and it made it worse, I guess all of it just got the better of him.”
“I’m so sorry, honey. It was worse than any of us could have ever imagined,” Aria’s voice is soft, but it barely penetrates.
“Mick basically blamed Brody,” I tell them, “In that note, he basically said it was Brody’s fault. We all know what happened with Brody’s girlfriend all those years ago, that means he’ll take this harder than most. He’ll struggle. I’m honestly worried about where this will take us.”
“We’ll work it out,” Blade reassures me.
But I don’t think we will.
I think this is the beginning of the end.
I really do.
22
NOW – MELANIE
“Brody, stop!”
My mind slowly comes to at the sound of a screaming voice. I try to blink my eyes open, but my body feels heavy. I’m still drunk, and so it takes even more effort to bring myself out of the drunk haze I’m in. I try to remember what happened last night, and my mind spins with the effort. Finally, it slowly comes back. I was on a date, we got really really drunk, came back here and …
“Brody!”
My eyes dart open and I turn my head just in time to see Brody haul my date across the room as if he weighs no more than a rag doll. His body slams against the wall, and then I see Finn step in front of the raging, panting Brody and growl, “I will fuckin’ stop you, by any means necessary, you need to stop, Brody. Now.”
“Brody?” I whisper, slowly sitting up, my head still spinning.
My dress is hitched up, right up, way too far up. My panties are in a position they shouldn’t be in. Oh, god, did Archie and I …? We were both so drunk, and I did make out with him for a bit. I don’t remember what happened? Did I say no? Did I say yes? I can’t remember. Oh, god, I can’t remember anything after the kiss.
Brody’s head swings in my direction, his eyes wild with rage and hurt, pure hurt. I haven’t seen anything but emptiness in his eyes since Mick. He’s staring at me, like I’ve ripped his heart out. Oh, no, what did he see? What was Archie doing? What was I doing?
“Get out,” Finn rasps at a bleeding Archie, who stands, hands clasped over his face. He’s not in the best way, and I feel terrible about that. “Don’t come back.”
Archie leaves, quickly, and Lucy rushes over to Finn and whispers something to him. He looks to Brody and growls, “You gotta walk it off, man.”
“Leave,” Brody hisses.
“Man, you gotta …”
Brody turns around, and bellows in a voice I don’t think I’ve heard in years, “Get the fuck out.”
Lucy tugs Finn’s arm, and gives me a concerned look, but I nod slowly, suddenly feeling a whole lot more sober. She and Finn leave, but I know she doesn’t want to. She’s scared, I can’t say I blame her. She probably just saw a side to Brody that was utterly terrifying. Still, I know I’m safe, I know he wouldn’t hurt me. Brody might be angry, and messed up, but I truly believe he wouldn’t hurt me.
When they’re gone, Brody growls, “What the fuck were you thinking?”
I blink, confused. “I don’t … I don’t … remember anything.”
“You got drunk,” he pants, fists clenched, “brought a man back here, and then fuckin’ passed out? When the fuck did you become so utterly stupid? We walked in to find him about to take something you wouldn’t have wanted him to take while you were out cold.”
Oh, god.
Oh, god, what have I done?
“Are you honestly that fuckin’ stupid?”
You know what?
Yes, I am that stupid. I am because Brody has done nothing but fucking destroy me for the last few months. So fuck him. Fuck him. He has no right to stand in front of me and call me stupid. He has no right to stand in front of me and judge me. Fucking no way. Not today.
I stand, my legs trembling, my head still spinning a little too much, and I yell, at the top of my lungs, “Fuck you, Broderick. You fucking asshole. You do not get to stand in front of me and tell me about stupid. You want to talk about stupid? Look at you. Look at everything you’ve given up for someone who didn’t give a damn about you. You’ve given up your whole world, you’ve crushed my heart, you don’t get to stand in front of me and call me stupid.”
I take an angry step forward, tears now rolling down my pathetic drunken cheeks, and I punch his chest. I punch his chest over and over, as hard as my tiny hands can manage. I hit him with furious bursts, tears rolling down my cheeks.
“I loved you, you fucking asshole. You broke me in every way you can break a person. I was supposed to be the love of your life. I was supposed to be everything. You showed me I meant nothing, and you want me to stop doing stupid shit? No. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you! You showed me what I meant. You! You! And that’s a whole lot of fucking nothing. You picked him over me. You put me last.”
I’m screaming by the end, my fists aching from each punch.
Brody’s hands lash up and curl around my wrists, stopping me from hitting him, and he hauls me close, so hard my body slams against his. He releases one of my wrists, raises his hand, and curls it into my hair, jerking my head back, and then he’s kissing me. He’s kissing me so hard my whole mouth burns upon impact. For a moment, for a long, drawn-out moment, I can do nothing but stand there in shock.
I’ve dreamed of this moment.
As you do when you’re heartbroken. You think of the moment when it all works out, when you finally get bac
k together. How it’ll feel. How your body will respond. Of course that doesn’t happen most of the time, but it doesn’t stop you from dreaming. It doesn’t stop the agonizing ache as you wish for it with every bone in your body.
I kiss him back.
My whole body practically crushing itself into his to get closer, to fill that gaping, aching hole that has been so empty without him. I want to feel every inch of him, and yet I can’t seem to get close enough, to touch enough, to taste enough. I feel frantic, as if I’m running out of time, as if I’ll wake up from this dream soon only to realize it’s a horrible nightmare that isn’t real.
So I kiss him, I kiss him as if it’s the last time I’ll ever get to do so. Maybe it is. That’s the thing about Brody, you never know when the last time will be. Our movements are frantic as we kiss. His hands find the back of my dress and he rips it, he rips it with a loud tear and then it drops to the floor. My panties follow quickly behind.
“If I find you wet after that fuckin’ asshole touched you, I’ll lose my fuckin’ shit,” he growls into my ear as his fingers go between my legs, find my pussy, and swipe through it.
He can’t expect it to be dry, right?
He just kissed me and brought my body to life.
“It’s wet for you,” I whisper as two thick fingers find my entrance and push inside.
I whimper and arch into him, breasts pressing into his chest. I want his clothes gone, I want him to remove them from between us. I need to feel all of him. I start tugging frantically at his shirt, and he stops for a moment, letting me remove it, which means his fingers have to move from my body for a moment. I hate that, but when I’ve hungrily torn his clothes from his body, I get all of him. I step back close, and the moment my naked body presses against his, I feel as though I just might die.
I feel like my whole world is going to collapse in on me, and I’m completely and utterly okay with it.
I need this more than I need my next breath.
Because, oh, how I’ve missed him so.
Our frantic movements turn desperate as he turns us and slams my body against the wall. He grabs my thigh, pulls it up around his hips, and then he takes hold of his cock and drives it into me. No warning. No warm up. Just pushing deep, stretching me, burning me. But I love it. My pussy convulses the moment it feels him inside, and I grab hold of his shoulders, clawing at his skin, just needing so much more of him and not being able to get it.
He starts fucking me, jerky movements at first, too frantic, too frenzied.
Then he gets it.
He slows it down, driving his hips up into me in deep, hard, but slow thrusts.
I cry out his name, my hands trailing over every inch of him, my lips devouring as much skin as they possibly can. I kiss his cheeks, his temples, his jaw, his neck, his lips, his shoulders. My mouth skims over him, trying to put into my memory how incredible he tastes, how amazing he makes me feel. I need this and more. I need it so bad.
“Brody,” I whimper, clutching his shoulders, mouth pressed against his collar bone. “Oh, god.”
I can’t hold off.
I cum embarrassingly fast, my body clenching and convulsing around him.
He snarls my name, pulling his cock out of me so fast my feet hit the ground and my knees shake. I stare at him, confused. “Wha …”
I’m panting from my orgasm which is still slowly radiating out inside of me, my skin is slick with sweat, I don’t know why he stopped but I want to scream.
“I’m not ready for it to be done,” he says, his voice a low, throaty rumble.
He drops to his knees in front of me, using his big arms to grab me and haul me up against the wall, positioning me so my legs are over his shoulders. He holds me steady with his hands to my hips, and then he buries his mouth into my pussy. I groan and arch backward. I can feel how wet I am, I know it’ll be coating his face, but he doesn’t care. His tongue torments me, licking and flicking. His lips sucking my clit in and out. I can’t take it.
This position.
How god damned sexual it is.
I lose it.
I scream and arch back into the wall as another orgasm takes my body. Over and over I convulse, until it subsides and I’m left feeling like I can’t possibly take anymore, yet knowing I need so damned much more.
Brody moves me and places me back on my feet, and I watch how his muscles flex as he moves. He was always big, but he’s so much bigger now. His biceps bulging, his pecs flexing. He’s big, he’s gorgeous, and I need him back. I ache for him more than I’d ever like to admit.
“My turn,” I whisper, also not wanting it to be over.
I shift myself so I’m on my knees in front of him, and I take his cock into my mouth, slowly at first, swirling my tongue around the head while I curl my two hands around the shaft. I lick and tease the aching, thick length that is so damned hard it feels like it’ll burst. Then I take him in deep, relaxing my jaw, letting him fill my mouth. My lips burn as they stretch around him, but I don’t care.
I want it all, and more.
I suck and twist with my hands, loving the way his moans turn guttural above me.
When I release a hand and cup his balls, his moans turn into hisses of pleasure.
He grabs my shoulders, pulling me off and, in a quick movement, he spins me around and with the palm of his hand, pushes me down to my hands and knees. He keeps the pressure on until I put my chest to the ground, leaving only my ass in the air. Hands on my hips, he drives his cock into me once more.
This time he fucks me to finish.
He fucks me so hard my cheeks feel like they get carpet burn.
I claw and thrash, the pleasure too much.
I cum, in a matter of minutes, and he follows close behind with a feral hiss that makes my whole body tremble.
Slowly, his thrusting comes to a stop, but I can still feel his cock throbbing inside of me. When it stops, he pulls out and I roll to my side, pushing myself up and staring at him, on his knees, looking down at me, chest glistening with sweat, rising and falling with each pant, those brown eyes locked on mine. Cock still angry and red, but slowly going down.
He’s beautiful.
He’s perfect.
I need him so much my heart can’t take it anymore.
“Brody,” I whisper, feeling my eyes burn with unshed tears. “I miss you.”
His jaw flexes, and for a moment, for a brief moment, I see it. The love. The pain. The man that I know misses me too. I see him there, in a single moment where his eyes let me in, and he takes that wall down. I want to hold him. To kiss him. To hug him. To have him back again.
But he gets to his feet and rasps, “I have to do this.”
Then … as if he were never here.
He’s gone.
And I’m left sitting on the floor, naked, confused, hurt and feeling like my heart is being broken all over again.
I can’t lose him.
I can’t.
I have to do something. Anything.
I have to keep him.
No matter what it takes.
I can’t let him die.
~*~*~*~
“The fight has been pushed,” Lincoln murmurs to Brody, his eyes flicking to me once before settling back on the man in front of him, panting from his latest training session. “Sniper is out of action at the moment, which buys us time. Gives us a few more weeks, which is exactly what we need.”
“You better not be lyin’ to me, Lincoln,” Brody growls. “Have a way of findin’ out.”
“Not lyin’ to you, man. It has been pushed. Find out if you must. Think they got cops snoopin’ around, too. So they’re layin’ low until they can change the heat. It’s a good thing. We need more time.”
“Not sure what else you think I need to learn,” Brody mutters, wiping his face with a towel and staring at me for a brief second before looking back to Lincoln. “It’s a fuckin’ fight. I either win or die. No skill needed. Those fuckers are dirty, they don’t play by the
rules. I can hold my own.”
“Yeah, you’re right, but that don’t mean I can’t put you against a fuckin’ few fighters I know that don’t play by the rules. The more exposure the better. In case you haven’t noticed, you got a lot of people who don’t want anythin’ to happen to you.”
Glancing at me once more, Lincoln turns and walks out of the ring. Brody grabs the towel and goes to leave, too. I’ve been watching him fight with some guy Lincoln brought in for practice. Brody smashed it out, of course, but I know that’s nothing in comparison to what he’s going to be up against. I’m not stupid. I know what death matches entail. Death. To put it simply.
“Brody,” I say, walking inside the cage and following him toward the dressing room.
“Don’t want you here, Melanie. It’s a fuckin’ distraction I don’t need.”
“Well, that’s too bad, because I’m not leaving.”
He keeps walking.
He has barely said two words to me after he fucked me and left the other night. I know it meant something to him, and that glimmer of hope he gave me has given me new life. I’m going to find a way to end this for him, one way or another, I’ll end it for him. Even if he doesn’t want me around. Lee was right, seeing me with someone else, it distracted him, even if only for a time.
Maybe I’m not pushing hard enough.
It’s time, I think, to push harder.
“I can make you leave,” he growls, walking into the locker room and over to his locker. He tears off the sleeveless tank he’s wearing and I have to stop myself from staring longingly at his bare chest, remembering how damned good it felt to touch him again.
“You can’t, you know you can’t.”
He spins around, glaring at me. “What the fuck are you tryin’ to do here? Traumatize yourself forever? You don’t want to see this shit, Melanie. You think you fuckin’ do but you don’t. What do I have to do to get you the fuck out of here? I ended things for a reason. I want to protect you. I want you to fucking move on with your life. Why can’t you do that?”
“Because I’m not giving up on you,” I say, my voice calm even though I want to scream and cuss him out for not understanding. “I love you, which you already know. I’ve been through all of this with you, which you already know. I don’t know, Brody, at what moment you thought I’d actually walk away and give up on you.”