by Coralee June
He lessened the pressure around my neck, and I slowly breathed in air. I didn’t gasp. I forced my lungs to wait until I was damn well ready to give them the life they craved. His lips grazed my ear as his low tenor voice spoke. “Give me a whisper, Octavia,” he moaned.
“Give me a reason, Renon.”
He moved faster and faster, invading that sweet spot inside of me that was rolling towards another orgasm. I knew this one would be harder and longer. I knew it would make my toes curl and my body thrash. I just had to get there first.
And then the door opened, revealing a tormented Young. His face dipped in a sadness so tangible, so shattering that I came on the spot. My body found nirvana in Young’s stare. It was one of those life-altering moments where you felt so much so suddenly that your nerves coiled and uncoiled, and your stomach dropped. My muscles clenched and unclenched as they squeezed Renon’s cock. My little drug dealer came as a whisper escaped my lips, so low only he could hear.
Perfect.
Chapter 12
“Why, Octavia?” Young asked as Renon gathered his clothes. His clothes were torn and buttons on his shirt were missing, but he managed to get dressed enough to be covered. I still stood buck ass naked in Samuel Smith’s room, staring at Young as satisfaction seeped through my body, blanketing me with a sort of comfort I didn’t deserve.
“Because I could. Because Renon owed me. I mean it wasn’t a seventy thousand dollar orgasm, but it will do.”
Young shook his head in confusion. “Seventy thousand dollars? What does that even mean?”
Renon answered for me, waving his check in the air like it was a prized trophy. “Octavia got the Smiths to pay Samuel’s debt. My employers are going to be very happy. You should totally consider being a debt collector, Octavia. You’re way more efficient than most of the meat heads on my payroll.”
I rolled my eyes before brushing my finger over the bruise forming just above my nipple. “Wait, what? The Smiths paid you?” Young asked before stalking over to Renon to stare at the check in his hands. His dark eyes took in the scribbled amount, and I watched his shoulders slump.
“Fuck!” he roared while scrubbing his hands down his face. “He really…”
I watched as Young worked through all the truths that had just exploded in his chest. Samuel’s involvement in William’s death became abundantly clear, and I had to watch with painful clarity how Young processed it all. His face scrunched up in pain. His chest collapsed, and those proud shoulders of his slumped so low I thought his hands would drag on the floor. “I still don’t understand why I walked in on you fucking Renon,” he growled.
“I still don’t get why you’re surprised,” I retorted. He walked over to my dress on the floor and picked it up before stalking over to me. Holding it open at my legs, I braced my hands on his shoulder while stepping inside the soft fabric. When I turned around, Renon handed him the bloody pin meant to hold everything together. I could see from the corner of my eye that they exchanged looks of annoyance. Renon didn’t have a reason to be angry, and yet there he stood with his mouth hardened in a firm line.
Once I was fully dressed, I sat on Samuel’s bed and hooked my stilettos around my heel, bending over while trying to think of what I could say.
“Octavia, can we please talk for a moment?” Young asked. I looked up at him, my hair falling in my eyes as I glanced between Renon and Young.
“Sure. Let’s get out of here. Wanna call a cab?” I asked.
Renon blanched. “You’re just going to leave with him right after...that?”
“Yep,” I replied simplistically.
“I still owe you an orgasm.”
“And I still plan on cashing in on that, but another day. Young needs me right now, okay?” I asked before getting up. Young proudly stretched out his hand for me to take, and I curled my body around his arm, latching on for dear life to try and stabilize my erratic emotions.
“I’ll call you, okay?” Renon called at my back as we walked out of Samuel’s bedroom. I paused to look at him, a grin on my face.
“Careful, Renon the Drug Dealer. I told you not to get attached.”
“I’m not fucking attached!” he yelled as Young and I went downstairs. Eyes were on us as we walked. I could feel Mr. Smith’s angry stare. Samuel was nowhere to be found. I wasn’t sure if everyone was watching because Renon and I hadn’t exactly been quiet or if the bruises on my skin and ruffled hair were obvious. Something told me it had nothing to do with that. Eyes followed Young wherever he went.
I guess we were both used to being the center of attention. The only difference was people admired him and feared me.
Outside, we stood on the curb as he ordered a car. Renon breezed by us, but I caught him staring at me. I’d warned him. I really did. Some might not appreciate the sort of confidence I had, but others didn’t take it seriously. Renon was turned on by confidence and didn’t know what to do about it.
“I can’t believe you slept with him while I was downstairs,” Young said through clenched teeth. “Why would you do that?”
I turned to look at him, refusing to feel shame for what I did. Maybe it made me selfish and cruel, but I always made my intentions clear. “You don’t have me, Young,” I said loudly. “Not in that way—never in that way.”
“That’s a lie, and you know it. Why are you so scared to let people in, Octavia? Why are you so scared to let this thing between us grow?”
“I’m not scared—”
“Right. You aren’t scared of anything, I forgot.” Young’s voice was laced with sarcasm.
I let out a huff and propped my hand on my waist. “Let me finish. I’m never going to give you a happily ever after. That would have—could have—been William. There is way too much history between us for this to be real. You hurt my brother. You loved him. You care deeply for me, but there will always be a dead man between us. So you can accept that I’m always going to be this,” I began while gesturing to myself, “or you can let me go.”
“And what exactly is this, Octavia? Fucking other men while handing your heart to me? Destroying people while building me up? I don’t know if I should hate you or kiss you for bringing Samuel’s truth to light.”
“This? You’re going to get a very small, profound piece of me. You’re going to get parts I don’t give to others. You’re going to get incredible sex and endless entertainment. I’m confusing and intimate when I want to be, but I’m too damn damaged to belong to anyone but myself. You can complement my life, Young, but you won’t consume it.”
The car pulled up, and he opened the back door, gesturing for me to get inside. Once we were both settled in the backseat, I watched as Young stared out the window, his eyes taking in the pristine neighborhood, but I knew his mind was somewhere else.
“I need to think. About you. About Samuel. I’m not coping well right now. It feels like William has died all over again, and I can’t for the life of me figure out why, despite all of this, I keep seeing the vision of you and Renon fucking on the floor.”
I blinked. “Okay. So you need space and time? I can do that,” I replied softly. Why did it hurt to say that? I wasn’t a complete asshole; I wasn’t willing to force my company on someone that needed some clarity.
“I’ll get you a hotel room, okay? Just for a night or two. I need to figure my shit out. Maybe we’d be better off as friends? I don’t even know if I could go back to that.”
“As you wish. Don’t bother about the hotel room, though. I know where I’m going to stay.”
“Don’t be stubborn, Octavia. I’m always going to take care of you. You have no money, no job, and nowhere to go. I’m not trying to be cruel; I just need space to think.”
I rolled my eyes. “I know you get off on being a savior, but you aren’t my only option. I think it’s time I figure my shit out with Noah. I’ve been hating and avoiding him, but maybe while you decide if you can handle this version of me, I need to decide if it’s worth it to forgive him or not.�
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“Are you serious? I don’t get you, Octavia. He helped your mom put you in that center, and now you want to stay with him for a couple of days? What the fuck!” His loud voice made the cab driver flinch and stare at us in the rearview mirror.
“I’m allowed to change my mind and reevaluate,” I replied. “Don’t forget, you called him just a couple of days ago.”
“So what, are you going to fuck him too? Just play with my heart and do whatever you please?” Young asked as tears filled his dark eyes.
I let out a shaky exhale. “Yes. You’re not going to figure out how to handle me until it hurts. If you can handle knowing that I’m running to another man’s arms while you figure shit out, then you’re going to be able to handle anything I throw at you. And you need to decide if I’m worth the pain you’re about to experience.”
“So what if I went around fucking everything with a pulse?”
“Would it make you feel better?” I asked.
His eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
“Does fucking make you feel better, Young? Does it take that broken heart in your chest and mend a bit? Does it distract you from the grief in your spirit or the loud, obsessive voices in your head? Does it make you feel a little less tired, a little more human? A little more alive? If it does, then I say go for it. It was never about sex for me, Young. It’s been about surviving.”
He stared at me for a long while. The driver coughed uncomfortably at the intensity of our conversation. I expected Young to lash out or ask questions. People didn’t understand the selfish way I operated. My brain was erratic and obsessive. It jumped from one need to the next, all while juggling a constant myriad of thoughts and ideas.
My mind was an exhausting poem with no end. Just rambling with symbolism in a harsh staccato style that bled from one universal truth to the next.
Young pulled out his phone and started typing up a text. After a few moments, it vibrated in his hand, and he looked down at it before speaking. “Noah is going to pick you up from the penthouse.”
And then we said nothing else. We just sat in the declaration of hurt, letting it ruminate between us as we rode.
Chapter 13
Noah was waiting outside the penthouse when we arrived. It was almost like he had been waiting there for hours, pacing the sidewalk outside Young’s building like each step could carve grooves in the concrete to prove that he was there. The moment our car pulled up, his face brightened with a sense of hope that made me sick to my stomach. I hated that I found myself questioning if this was the right thing to do. I never doubted myself.
I needed to let Noah know how much he had hurt me.
We never got a goodbye. For almost a year, Noah was the only person in my life that I could talk to. He knew more about me than I probably knew about myself, which was saying a lot considering how acquainted I was with the demons in my chest. I wanted to honor who he was while letting him know that what he did was unacceptable. I also wanted to give Young the space he wanted.
So I didn’t greet Noah with a hug, though an invisible urge was begging me to. I wondered if the cells in our bodies had memories and habits; it was like my skin had grown accustomed to touching Noah. Before, I was running on anger and resentment, but now that Young wanted space, the only thing flooding through my body was the craving to cling to Young.
I’d said my truth to Young. But that didn’t mean the truth didn’t hurt. It took a strong person to know that they would not be enough for another, and an even stronger person to stick to their convictions. I would never be the right thing for Young; it just wasn't in my makeup.
I quickly gathered my things and left with Noah, knowing that Young didn’t want to draw out our goodbye with more hurtful words. What more could I say? The doubt in my brain whispered that this separation was permanent, but I quickly reminded my demons that the only permanence in this world was death.
Noah was staying a couple of blocks away, so we walked to his hotel. I watched him open and close his mouth like a goldfish, waiting for the opportunity to say something. I kept my body language closed off though, not wanting to hash this out in the street. If he were any damn good at being a therapist, he’d say I was making progress for not wanting public displays of chaos.
He was staying in a nice hotel, although I wondered how he was paying for it. I knew he had a good amount of money saved up from his practice, but it wasn’t feasible for him to stay here for an extended period. It was weird that he hadn’t gone back to California.
“Why are you still here?” I asked once we were standing outside the hotel. “I mean, how are you still here? It can’t be cheap, and I know you don’t have a license to practice here. Are my parents paying you to keep tabs on me?”
Noah looked ashen, and those bright blue eyes flashed with something naughty and distrustful as his tatted arm flexed. “They aren’t paying me to watch you. I sold my condo in California. I would like to tell you that my obsession with you is the reason I’m here, but that’s not the only thing. It wasn’t until I got out of California that I realized a change of scenery was good for me. Back there, everything reminded me of my daughter. Here, it feels like I can finally move forward.”
Even though Noah hadn’t said jack shit about my inability to move forward, I drew parallels between our grief. “I don’t want to move on,” I spat.
“I said nothing about moving on, Octavia,” he said softly like he was coddling a baby. “I said moving forward. There’s a difference.”
Of course there was a difference. I couldn’t imagine a world where I lived in peace with the fact that William was dead. Time was an inevitable variable that stole my coping mechanisms with every tick of the clock. This was what I missed most about Noah. Even though Young had lost William too, the sort of grief that Noah felt was more aligned with mine. It was a toxic, self-destructive sort of sadness. It’s why I missed my broody therapist so much, even though I wouldn’t admit it. Not to him, not to Young, and not even to myself.
And maybe it had to take an impulsive decision to get me here, but I was thankful to be looking up at Noah. We would never be what we were, but I needed him still, even if it hurt me to need him. “What can I do to fix this, Octavia? What made you want to see me?”
I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them again just as a cloud blocked the rays of sun shining over us. His beautiful face was cast in shadows when I replied, “I need you to be my voice.”
“Okay. What do you mean?”
“No one believes me. And the people that do believe me are so rich and powerful that it doesn’t matter what I say. I’m just a girl with a dead twin and a record of hospitalizations. Samuel is openly admitting to giving William bad drugs, and he’s never going to have to pay for it.”
“Okay. Then let me be your voice. Let’s go to the police. Together.”
My inner demons wanted to lash out and say it wasn’t good enough, but despite everything, something about Noah made me want to be better, do better. It didn’t mean that I forgave Noah—I didn’t have it in me for that. Somehow, I knew that this had more to do with me wanting to prove something. Noah sent me away to that institution because he thought I was self-destructive and that I needed saving. I guess in some ways he was right. Here I was asking for his help. Something told me I’d always be asking for his help.
“Okay. Let’s go to the police,” I reluctantly replied, though I doubted they’d do anything.
“Really? I’m waiting for the bomb to drop... What happened with Young? Things seemed tense.”
He was in therapist mode, but he hadn’t earned the right to talk to me about Young. Admittedly, I didn’t want to talk about it. I’d given him the ultimate Octavia ultimatum. I left him to simmer in the truth of my personality, and I wasn’t ready to talk about my fears. What if he couldn’t handle this version of me?
“You aren’t my therapist anymore. We aren’t talking about Young.”
“Okay. I’ll take what I can get.”
But I feared the guilt rising in my throat and taunting my brain with a new obsession: being better.
Whatever the fuck that meant.
“So let me get this straight. You’re working with a high-profile drug dealer but won’t give me his name?” The cop looked me over as I spun a ballpoint pen on the wooden desk. Noah was sitting beside me, arms crossed over his chest as he nodded reassuringly at me.
“I already gave you a name—Samuel Smith.”
“He’s not the source, though. He’s just a distributor.”
I gritted my teeth, hating the game these men were playing and also myself for wanting to protect Renon. I didn’t know how high up he was, but I knew that if I dropped his name, they’d punish him way before they punished the wealthy and influential Smiths.
“I’ll agree. He’s an ass. But he’s pushing drugs,” the asshole cop added.
The cop talking with me was scrawny, and I fleetingly wondered how he worked the streets. One stiff wind would send him crashing to the ground. I imagined leaning over and wrapping my fingers around his neck. “Why would you protect the organization that supplied the tainted drugs Mr. Smith gave to William? I don’t get it.” We’d been sitting in this conference room for a couple of hours with nothing to show for it. I was getting pissed off.
“I’m not protecting the organization, Officer Lank. I’m protecting a man in their hierarchy. I don’t even know how high up he is. He warned Samuel that the drugs were bad. He was friends with my brother.”
“Miss Wilson, I want to help you. I really do. But unless I know how big of an infrastructure we’re working with, it’s just not worth our time. Samuel Smith will get off easily. His parents have more resources than they know what to do with. He’s just another rich college kid with money to blow on drugs. He probably just hands them out at parties to look cool.”