Damaged: The Dillon Sisters

by Layla Frost

  Huh.

  Weird.

  Backtracking to the lobby, I set them down on one of the small tables before returning to my apartment to change into my pajamas and zone out in front of the TV.

  The perfect end to a not-too-shabby day.

  Him

  SHE DIDN’T BRING the flowers inside.

  I wasn’t surprised. I figured she’d assume they were there by mistake.

  Checking my watch, I wished I could watch her longer. Based on the way my cock throbbed, it wished the same.

  Maybe later.

  Locking the door behind her, her shoulders slumped as she let her guard down.

  Definitely later.

  Chapter Five

  Cliché

  Alexander

  CHRIST, I’M TIRED.

  “This system is ancient,” José gritted out, looking more wiped than I felt. The programmer clicked some keys then muttered a low curse as the screen in front of him froze.

  Spinning in my chair, I stopped to watch the loading bar fill a little, backtrack, fill a little more, backtrack all the way to the beginning, and then freeze. A circle spun and spun but nothing happened.

  Yeah, that’s what it feels like. Spinning wheels.

  “I’m going to throw this fuckin’ machine out the window,” José growled.

  I reached under the desk and yanked the cord from the outlet.

  It probably wasn’t the best thing for the computer, but neither was a four-story drop from the window.

  The elevator pinged and Garrison—one of the technicians—walked out, dust coating his coveralls. “The wires in this place look like they’re older than the damn building. They might as well be made of spaghetti.”

  I shook my head at the guys who were both in their early twenties—less than ten years younger than me but sometimes it felt like fifty. “Neither of you would’ve survived the dial-up days. Imagine spending twenty hours illegally downloading a song, only to have someone pick up the phone and disconnect you.”

  José shuddered. “My abuela had dial-up until I paid the cable company to upgrade it and tell her it was free. She still has a corded phone. Think she’ll be buried with that thing.”

  Twisting my chair back and forth, I stared as the computer fought to reboot. I was beginning to think I’d have to physically restrain José from taking the ancient machine out to a field to beat it with a bat.

  “Finally,” I said through a yawn when it finally loaded.

  “You okay?” Garrison asked.

  Leaning my head against the back of the chair, I closed my eyes. “Late night.”

  “I know you’re good at your job and all, but even you can’t do it with your eyes closed.”

  “Sure I can. And with one hand tied behind my back.”

  “While hopping on one foot?” José asked.

  “Nah, even I’m not that good.”

  “I’ll make a coffee run,” Garrison offered.

  I sat up and ran a palm down my face. “I’ll do it in a minute.”

  José clicked some keys and was able to access the system without it freezing. “What the… Who installs extensions on a work toolbar? No wonder it’s running like a frozen snail.”

  Checking the time, I stood and started for the elevator. “Don’t start a fight with their IT guy while I’m gone.”

  “I’d be surprised if that moron knew how to work his door handle,” José said to my back.

  He was probably right.

  Briar

  For spoiled pigeons

  “HOW’RE YOU DOING, Briar?”

  Not now.

  I mean, technically not ever would be best. But I’ll settle for not now.

  I just need a break.

  A break wasn’t an option, though. Not when there were observant eyes watching my every move, analyzing and dissecting. Just looking for a reason to add sessions.

  Or worse.

  It was my fear of worse that had me turning to talk to Derrick. “I’m good, how’re you?”

  “I’m glad you’re good.” He stepped closer, and even though it wasn’t an inappropriate closeness, I still had to lock my knees to keep from backing away. “Were you visiting Aria?”

  I shook my head. “Just my Tuesday one-on-one.”

  If group left me drained and annoyed, my weekly solo sessions with my psychologist left me completely deflated and flayed open. Dr. Linda didn’t hesitate to dig and force me to face things I’d rather keep buried. And that session, she may as well have been geared up like an archeologist because she had dug deep.

  “Got it.” I hoped that meant he understood enough to let me flee so I could emotionally regroup, but that wasn’t the case. “How’s the shelter?”

  “It’s good. We’ve got a lot of animals, including pigeons, if you’re looking to adopt.”

  His eyes widened. “Pigeons? For real?”

  “People are crazy,” I said before I could think better of the phrasing. Most docs, therapists, and mediators didn’t allow the c word—crazy not cunt. Insane, loco, and batshit were also off the table.

  Mental health slurs was what they called them.

  Thankfully, Derrick let it slide. “Maybe they had plans to bring back the homing pigeons.”

  “These guys won’t even fly to their food bowl, so if that was the plan, it failed. Big time.”

  “Shame. It could’ve been new competition for Twitter. Cooer.”

  “Booooo,” I jeered, shaking my head.

  I hoped I’d made enough small talk and could leave without it being a thing, but Derrick kept asking questions about the animals and my duties. None of it was invasive or heavy, but after such a rough session, my need for space and solitude was worse than usual.

  And it was usually bad.

  I thought I was doing an okay job hiding it, but after a million years—or so it seemed—Derrick paused and studied me.

  I realized I was fidgeting with my hair, so I dropped my hand, but the damage was done.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I squeaked out past the anxiety elephant weighing on my chest.

  “You sure? Is Aria here today?” There was a pause and his voice sounded odd when he added, “Or I could take you back to Dr. Linda?”

  “No!” I quickly gained control of my panic before I drew attention. “I’m just hungry. I haven’t had lunch yet.”

  Since he had his bag with him like he was leaving, I hoped like hell he wouldn’t offer to walk me out again. I wasn’t sure I could hold it together for another awkward stroll. Thankfully, he just returned my smile and said, “I’ll let you get some food then. See you at group.”

  “Can’t wait,” I lied. I needed a week to recuperate, not just two days.

  Usually, I took the stairs to avoid getting stuck in a metal box with strangers, but since that was the direction Derrick went, I headed for the elevator. I pressed the down arrow a million and ten times, as if that would magically make it open faster. When it dinged and the doors slid open, I was thankful to find it blissfully empty.

  I got in and pressed the button for the lobby before going to town on the close-door one.

  It was just as useless as the down button, and by the time the doors finally started to close, someone stuck their hand in, halting my escape.

  The doors slid open and someone stepped in, but I didn’t look to see who or offer that weird grimace-smile thingy most people gave. I stared at the buttons in front of me like they were going to rearrange themselves to reveal the secrets of the universe.

  According to Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, forty-two was the answer to the question of life.

  Knowing how fucked up the world was, I was betting it was actually sixty-nine. Maybe four-twenty. Six-six-six? Any or all.

  “Glad I didn’t bump into you this time,” a deep voice rumbled.

  I thought he was talking to someone on the phone since it was a confusing—and insulting—thing to say. But when I glanced in his directi
on, I knew he was talking to me.

  The bodyguard.

  The one who’d literally bumped into me.

  I was surprised to see him back at the center until I remembered what Aria had told me about the tech nerd upgrading the computer system.

  Assuming that’s why he was there, I gave him a small smile. “I remembered to zip my purse today, so the outcome wouldn’t have been as bad.”

  His smile wasn’t small. It was wide and easy, revealing perfect teeth to match the rest of his perfect face. He even smelled perfect, the fresh scent cutting through the stale elevator air.

  Long ago—before everything—I used to love watching cheesy teen romance movies. The ones with all the overly dramatic acting, the thin, unrealistic plot, and the happily ever after. Seeing him again reminded me of them.

  First, there was our fortuitous meet-cute, complete with an awkward accident.

  Then, the incidental run-in—which included a clever greeting and charming smile.

  Next, he would rescue me from some danger I didn’t even know I was in.

  And then, after he saved me, we’d live happily ever after.

  Except, of course, my life wasn’t a movie. He wasn’t the handsome male lead. I wasn’t in danger from anyone but myself.

  And I couldn’t be saved.

  Not to mention, he was crazy hot and I was just… well… crazy.

  So, yeah, no cliché romance happening there.

  The elevator doors slid open, and he gestured to it, letting me step out first.

  “See you,” I mumbled even though it was a stupid as hell thing to say to a stranger I’d likely never see again.

  He chuckled. “Yeah, see you.”

  Yup, totally not cut out to be the lead in my own life, much less a romance movie.

  Even more desperate to get away, I hustled outside to catch my bus.

  When I got into my building, I grabbed the mail.

  More catalogs and even more coupons.

  So.

  Many.

  Coupons.

  There must’ve been some recently-moved mailing list I’d wound up on because they kept coming.

  Either that or companies really fucking hated the earth and were determined to cut down every tree in existence for the sole purpose of offering me five percent off ugly lamps.

  Even if I had money—which I did not—I had no clue what I’d want to buy. The stack was going into the recycling with the rest.

  I turned down the hall toward my apartment with my eyes aimed at the ground. Sure enough, like the previous four days, flowers were waiting for me.

  Well, waiting for someone else because clearly the delivery man sucked at his job and kept leaving them at the wrong address.

  Like the others, I brought that vase to the lobby and left it on a table next to the one from the day before.

  It’s starting to look like a florist shop in here.

  I started to turn when something niggled at me. I looked back at the flowers, studying them for a moment. They were the same. Same matte black vase. Same bright bursts of wildflowers.

  But something was different about the two.

  Before I could place what it was, the main door opened and chattering voices filled the space. Since I’d had more than enough small talk to last a lifetime, I abandoned my floral inspection and retreated to my apartment.

  Finally.

  Chapter Six

  Cynical

  Him

  THE CENTER. THE shelter. Home.

  It made it easy to learn her schedule because there wasn’t much to it. Other than the one-off dinner with her sister, she rotated between the three places.

  No dates. No girls’ nights. No hobbies.

  No life.

  I was unsurprised to see her go straight home after the center. Just as I was unsurprised to see her enter her apartment without the flowers.

  What’s wrong? Is it so hard to believe they’d be for you?

  My already hardened dick jerked as she headed to the bedroom. I wouldn’t stroke it—not right then, at least. I didn’t have time. Knowing I’d have no control if I saw her undress, I waited for her to return to the living room.

  When a few minutes passed and she was still in her room, I adjusted my viewpoint—and my hard-on. I expected to see her changing into her pajamas like she always did when she got home.

  I was wrong.

  Naked and spread on the bed, her hand moved frantically between her legs. I could almost taste her wetness. I could almost smell her sweetness. I could almost feel her desperation.

  I didn’t want almost.

  I wanted reality.

  Fuck my plans.

  Shoving my pants down, I was already stroking my cock before it was fully freed. I kept time with her, my fist rising and falling at the same frenzied pace she set. But where her motions seemed driven solely by the need for release, mine were driven solely by my need for her.

  My gaze moved from her pussy to her face, but it was turned so I couldn’t see her expression. Her blond hair was spread like chaotic sunbeams that I wanted to wrap around my fists and pull. My focus was drawn down as she spread her legs wider. Showing me the pretty scars that lined the inside of her thighs.

  Showing me the heaven between them.

  I tightened my fist until I had to bite back a pained groan. I didn’t want to come yet. Not until she did.

  If she did.

  Because while I was fighting to keep from shooting my load everywhere, she seemed to be fighting to find it.

  I could help you.

  In a lot more ways than one.

  That thought nearly sent me over, precum dripping steadily as I slowed my motions before there was no stopping.

  I was beginning to wonder if she would give up—and if I’d give in—when her already frenzied touch grew wilder and jerkier. Her legs thrashed, and the thought of it being my fingers her slick wetness coated sent me over as I came with her.

  Catching my breath, I didn’t look away as I wiped myself off.

  When she sat up, there was no languidness. No peace. No spark of happiness or relief or contentment. Her movements were stiff and weary.

  As though her pleasure had only brought more pain.

  Don’t worry.

  I will help you.

  And soon.

  Briar

  For comfortable beds

  WELL, THAT WAS different.

  And hot.

  And then crushingly disappointing.

  I’d thought I was smarter than stupid fairy tales. I’d thought any romantic bone in my body had long ago rotted away. I’d thought my cynical black heart was dead.

  I’d thought wrong.

  Because after I’d closed myself into my apartment, my brain had been stuck on the flowers in the lobby. It’d twisted and warped the accidental delivery into something more. Once I’d stopped fighting the fantasy, it’d been the thing I’d needed.

  That the flowers were for me.

  That like right out of a cliché movie, I had an admirer.

  That someone thought I was sexy.

  That I was desired.

  Wanted.

  And the star of my twisted fantasy was none other than the hot bodyguard with the perfect everything.

  It may have been enough to get me off but the reality that followed that high was a steep plummet. My already bruised psyche was left banged up and suffering from whiplash.

  Sitting up, I pulled on my pajamas and tried to hype myself up for the long walk to my couch.

  It won’t always be so hard.

  I’m in control.

  I’m… going to bed.

  Flopping back, I pulled the blankets over my head and gave up.

  Chapter Seven

  Right

  Him

  EVEN IF I hadn’t known her schedule, I could tell where she was heading from her mood.

  The shelter.

  It was the only time there was any excitement in her step. Any emotion in her exp
ression.

  It was the only time she seemed even slightly happy.

  Moving around her apartment, she gathered her things before heading for the door. She paused suddenly and backtracked to her kitchen island.

  What’re you up to?

  After a moment, she picked up something and left.

  I patiently waited until the coast was clear before going into her building. I got my answer about what she’d done when I saw a piece of paper taped to her door.

  Flower delivery person: You have the wrong apartment.

  No, I don’t.

  Setting the vase down, I pulled the note from the door and pocketed it.

  It’s the right apartment because it’s sure as fuck the right person.

  Briar

  For the dogs with stupid names

  I’VE SAID IT before, and I’ll say it a million times more.

  Animals are better than people.

  Sitting on the hard floor in the shelter, I let the dog climb all over me. The way I figured, if an eighty-pound pitty took me out, that was how I went. There were far worse ways to die. But even with his immense size—and the fact he thought he was a lap dog—he was careful in his pursuit to lick every inch of my face.

  Yeah, real killer beast and menace to society he was.

  People rarely wanted to visit the pit bulls, much less adopt them. And those who were interested never passed our vigorous screenings, either because they had no clue how to train one or because we suspected they wanted to use them for fighting. That meant pit bulls were left to pay the price for shitty humans.

  I could relate.

  One of the metal doors squeaked open and then closed with a heavy clang before voices echoed in the concrete room of cages.

  I recognized my boss’ voice when she asked, “Do you currently have a dog?”

  Uh-oh.

  Busted.

  “No,” whoever said. “We were just driving by and saw the shelter, so we thought we’d stop.”

  Oh. Impulse pet adoption.

  Yeah, those end well.

  Sue gave an unintelligible murmur that said she was thinking the same thing. “Well, these are the pups we have waiting for their fur-ever home. This sweet pit bull is Mr. Worldwide…” She did a double take and her words trailed off when she saw me sitting in the cage. “And that’s Briar, my best employee. She’s not available to adopt, otherwise this whole place would fall apart.” Despite her kind words, her eyes were narrowed and her lips curved down.