Chapter 17
Briar
ME:
-Goood morning! xxx
-Wowww, leaving me on ‘read’ again?? Not even going to wish me a good morning back?? Angel, I’m hurt :(
-Unless you’re busy today?
-Are you going to run at the gym today or the park?
-Rurik! Where are you?
-Angel. It’s been hours, are you okay?
-Okay. You’re probably busy. Call me back when you can.
I sigh, staring at my phone.
Fuck. I feel like a teenage girl eagerly waiting for the boy she likes to text her back. I mean, I guess I am eagerly waiting, but I shouldn’t be too obvious about it.
He better not be ghosting me again. I meant it when I told him his push-and-pull game pisses me off now. I’m over that behavior. I seriously thought we were doing so well. I even agreed to his stupid rules. Boundaries. Whatever.
My phone vibrates with a text notification, and excitement suddenly drowns me.
But it’s quickly replaced by trepidation when I see who it is.
Uncle Marcus:
-Come home this evening.
I scoff at the text. I haven’t been “home” since I ran away from there at 15.
What do they want now? It’s been a while since they reached out to me, ever since Mr. Rogers gave them cash to leave me the hell alone.
Years ago, Mr. Rogers and Nat immediately took me in after I had run away from my uncle. He had paid off my family to let me go since I was still a minor at the time and had taught me everything I know now. They saved me, fed me, clothed me, and loved me like I was their daughter and sister.
In short, I owe Rogers my life. They are my family.
Not the man who is trying to call me now.
“Hello?” I answer with a tired sigh.
“We need more money,” my uncle roughly says as a greeting.
“Wow, hello to you too, Uncle Marcus. It’s been years. I’ve been good, thank you for asking,” I say sarcastically, trying to stomp down my anger.
“Get your ass over here and bring $10,000. Cash.” He hangs up right after.
An overwhelming wave of anger and outrage sweeps over me.
How fucking dare he?
I’m fucking Briar Reyes, damn it! I shouldn’t let him talk to me like that, as if I’m going to drop what I’m doing and happily give him money.
I should call Mr. Rogers again, but I don’t want to bug him. I’m a grown-ass adult now. I should be dealing with my own mess.
I got this.
*-*-*-*
Okay, well, my fantastic idea to storm into my uncle”s place and demand some basic respect may have panned out differently than I hoped.
Did I burst into the house, guns blazing with fury, demanding they leave me the hell alone?
I tried.
Seriously, I did.
But I was bitched slapped by my Uncle when he realized I didn’t bring the money. Now, usually, if some random asshole did that to me, I would have gauged their eyeballs out with my beautifully manicured nails or bedazzled pink knife.
Fuck, one time when Nat came home crying because some asshole taped her when she lost her virginity to him and threatened to post it on the internet, I went berserk. No, I didn’t kill the guy. Mr. Rogers forbade it, deeming it too merciful. So, I had to get creative.
Where is the asshole now? Last I heard, he’s still locked up in some facility, where he has to be monitored because he keeps babbling about some crazy lady with a tiny knife.
It was me. I was the crazy lady.
But this is my uncle.
As much as I hate him… I could never bring myself to hurt him. I don’t know why; he’s not my family anymore. He never watched over me the way Mr. Rogers did, and his late wife never cared for me like Mr. Rogers does.
It’s because you know you deserve all those beatings.
He blames you for the fire that killed your parents.
The fire was an accident.
It was your accident.
“I just asked you for one favor, and you can’t even do that.” My uncle snaps, interrupting my thoughts.
I raise a brow, “Asking for $10K in cash is not just a favor.”
The painful sting seeps in when my head snaps to the side. I taste saliva and blood forming in my mouth, so I turn to face him and spit on the floor defiantly.
He opens his mouth to say something, but I interrupt him. “Why the hell should I give you any money? Shall I call Drake Rogers so you can speak to him for the money?”
My uncle pales for a second before he masks his fear with anger. “That man has nothing to do with this.”
“True,” I shrug, a hint of sarcasm lacing my tone. “But it’s not my fault you blew through half a million dollars in the blink of an eye. And now you”re asking for more just because you”re getting kicked out of your house?” I let out a mocking laugh.
I wrinkle my nose when I breathe in—the place reeks of alcohol and drugs.
The fucking audacity of him.
He starts shouting, hurling insults my way, calling me a slut because he believes I get my money by selling my body. Then, he goes on to blame me for the death of my parents, punctuating his accusations with a few hits here and there. He yells at me about how he deserved to have the money I inherited from my parents” death, and blah, blah, and more stupid blahs.
A couple of hours later, here I am. Just staring at my reflection in my own bathroom, bleeding.
There’s a cut above my lips, a bruise already forming on the corner of my left cheek, and my nose hurts like a motherfucker.
My uncle is a fucking asshole. How dare he blame me for surviving the fire that killed my parents?
Your fault, your fault, your fault, your fault.
No, it’s not my fault my parents died.
But Amaura’s?
What the fuck? Where did that come from—
I groan. I suck in a sharp breath, lifting my hands to my head as the demons in my mind continue their relentless chant: She died because of you, just like your uncle said. Your fault, your fault, your fault…
Fuck.
I haven’t spiraled in a while, I feel… It’s weird. I can’t think properly… No matter how vigorously I shake my head or how forcefully I splash water on my face, that stupid voice persists, echoing in my ears. It feels like massive hands are squeezing my head, compelling me to listen, drowning out any semblance of control.
Your fault, your fault, your fault…
God, shut the fuck up, please. I can’t… Fuck, what the hell is happening to me?
It’s all your fault. She was innocent, and you got her killed.
I tighten my grip on my head, pulling my hair.
No, that’s not my fault.
Yes, she died because of you. Your fault, your fault, your fault.
Chef Greene…
And instead of plotting for revenge, you’re honoring her death by shacking up with his stepson.
It’s all your fault.
No, no, no…Rurik has nothing to—
Your fault, your fault, your fault, your fault…
I can’t seem to catch my breath. Blackness fills my vision as I try to calm down, telling myself that it’s all in my head, reminding myself that I’m okay. That I’m —
It”s all your fault.
The blackness crawls up my spine, tightening its grip like a chokehold, filling my lungs with heavy lead as I stumble against the cabinet. I can barely see my hands in front of me as my fingers fumble for anything that might offer relief. Then, my finger accidentally brushes against a razor”s cold, sharp edge, sending a prickling sensation across my skin. A small drop of blood appears, and it feels as though the redness seeps out along with it.
And next, you’re going to get Rurik killed, too. And, that will also be your fault, your fault, your fault…
Breathing hard, I make a small cut to the skin on my shoulder, knowing my clothes hide the scars anyway—thin trails of blood coat my arm. But as the crimson flows, the suffocating redness dissipates, and my vision slowly returns to normal as I focus on the stinging sensation.
The voices become quieter, muffled, until they finally disappear as I look down to watch my blood mix with the sink water, swirling around and vanishing down the drain.
I let out a deep breath, my shoulders dropping as everything turns quiet. The only sounds I hear are the water and my air conditioner running.
There.
See? I got this.
I’m fine.
*-*-*-*
“Bitch, you’re married!” I screech, throwing my arms around my best friend.
Nat squeals, wrapping her arms around my waist. We both jump and down like children, ignoring the looks on people”s faces.
“Can I have my wife back?” Oscar asks with a sigh, though a smile threatens to spread across his face as I throw myself at him, too.
“We’re in-laws now!” I tease him, “I’ve always wanted a big brother to annoy.”
“You’re already like an annoying little sister, brat.” Oscar scoffs, rubbing his knuckles on top of my head.
I slap his hand away, “I freaking spent over an hour sitting down on a chair to spend almost $200 to get my hair done. If you mess with my hair, I will throw a fit.”
“Only $200?”
I turn around and grin at Mr. Rogers walking over to us. He squeezes Oscar’s shoulder, and his eyes soften when they land on the beautiful bride. “That was a beautiful ceremony, you two.”
Nat’s eyes glisten as she grins up at him. Then, as if remembering how much she spent on getting her make-up done, she glances upward, fans her face, and clears her throat before returning her gaze to her dad. “Thank you, Dad.”
Mr. Rogers glances at Oscar and speaks sternly, “Listen. Just because I gave her to you down the aisle does not mean she’s all yours, right? She’s still my little girl. If you treat her anything less than a Queen, you will have me to answer to.”
Oscar nods immediately. “Absolutely, sir. Don’t worry.”
As soon as the newly married couple walks over to continue mingling with their guests, Mr. Rogers turns to me with the same soft smile he gave Nat.
I grin back, “How does it feel to have a married daughter?”
He releases a sharp breath, shaking his head. “I keep looking at you two and remember how you girls and my son got into many troubles during your guys” school years.”
“Aw, come on, Mr. Rogers. We’re too mature for that now,” I tease. “We get in trouble with these random men you push us to.”
He glares playfully before rolling his eyes. His gaze softens as he heavily sighs, looking at me with a crooked grin. “Now that I barely survived my first daughter getting married off, I beg you to have mercy on your old man and don’t fall in love and run off with someone, too.”
I bite my bottom lip to stop from grinning like an idiot.
“Too late,” I chuckle. “I may have found my little guardian angel in the flesh.”
“You don’t have to call me that,” Mr. Rogers smirks arrogantly.
I throw my head back and laugh. I have never felt so happy, bright, and loved as I do today. I shake my head and look at Mr. Rogers, my chosen dad, my real dad. He may have thought I said that as a joke, but now that I think about it?
It’s true. After the episode I experienced yesterday, I’m reminded of where I came from and what I have now.
Mr. Rogers may have read my emotions because his expression changes from playful, frowning to concerned. His eyes dart around us before he reaches out, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder and drawing closer.
“Briar, is everything okay?” he asks in a hushed tone, his voice filled with genuine concern.
I blink. It’s rare for him to show any emotions besides his usual sarcastic, arrogant, playful self. So, the fact that he’s looking at me with so much concern is jarring. The last time he was like this was when I ran away from my uncle.
“Yes?” I say, realizing it sounds like I was questioning my answer. “Stop worrying, old man. You’ll start gaining more white hairs and have to dye your hair again.”
His eyes narrow. “Briar.”
My grin falters.
As if my brain decided that now was the time to punish the fuck out of me, I thought of Rurik ignoring me, my uncle’s treatment, Amaura’s death, and how I almost lost control over my demons.
Oh, fuck.
I can feel my lips threatening to tremble and my eyes starting to sting as I try to stop the feeling of tears coming.
“Um, I… I was…” What the fuck am I saying? I’m sputtering, and I never do that. I clear my throat and say, “I’m good.” I turn my face away to subtly dab the corner of my eye with my thumb before forcing my usual grin. “I’m just so overwhelmed about today, you know? I can’t believe Nat and Oscar are married!”
But Mr. Rogers still looks at me as if he sees right through the bullshit.
But then he sighs and nods.
“I understand.” He says, almost disappointedly. “I just want you to know that you can always come to me, okay? I meant it that day when we took you in. You’re part of our family. You’re my daughter. You have helped our family so much, so please let us help you, okay?”
Did I hold it together like the badass bitch that I am and playfully tease the shit out of him for being so sappy?
No.
Because my stupid emotions decided to say, “fuck you, Briar,” and that’s how I found myself wrapped around Mr. Rogers’s comforting arms.
“I’m good, I’m good,” I try to laugh it off, but the tears wouldn’t stop.
Seriously, what the hell is happening to me? Just one visit from my Uncle, and I’ve returned to being this crybaby. This is not me anymore.
“I’m going to ask you a question, and please don’t lie to me.” Mr. Rogers says as I pull away.
I reach for a random napkin from one of the tables and quickly dab my eyes with it. “Sure, okay.”
“The bruises. What happened? I don’t believe I sent you and Nat on another work trip the past few weeks, so that can’t be it.”
“I fell.” I quickly say.
“Briar.”
“It’s true. I fell.” Technically, I’m not lying. I did fall when my Uncle smacked me around.
But Mr. Rogers shakes his head impatiently. He opens his mouth to say something, but his gaze flickers over my shoulder, causing him to pause.
His brows furrow as he asks, “Can I help you?”
I frown, turning around to see who he is talking to. My eyes clash with the familiar bright blue eyes, and I swear, a drop of ecstasy sparks through me immediately at the sight of him.
“Rurik?” This time, the grin I’m wearing is real.
He’s here! I should have remembered he would be since Oscar asked him to live paint for them. I haven’t seen him for a few days, but he’s here!
Only he’s not looking at me. Instead, his gaze is fixed on Mr. Rogers, his eyes ablaze with rage. His lips are pressed into a tight line, and his jaw clenches so hard that a vein protrudes visibly.
“Rurik?” I call for him, this time confused. Why is he staring at Nat’s dad like that? Doesn’t he know who he is? I glance over at Mr. Rogers, and even he looks confused at the animosity aimed toward him.
Mr. Rogers raises a perplexed brow at me before turning to Rurik. “If this is about the live painting you finished, it’s beautiful. I will let my daughter know you’re done and—”
“Step the fuck away from her.”
We both stiffen.
What the fuck?
But Rurik is already standing in front of me, blocking me from Mr. Rogers. Even though it’s probably his anger, I can feel the warmth radiating off him. I fight the urge to inhale deeply to smell his addicting scent like a weirdo.
See, I can control my emotions.
Unlike this asshole right now.
I poke him on the side. “What are you doing?”
But he ignores me — Surprise, surprise.
Mr. Rogers’s eyes flicker between him and me as if he’s calculating what is happening between us.
“Briar,” Mr. Rogers says slowly. “He’s not the one who…” He trails off, raising a brow at me as if to ask, “He’s not the one who gave you the bruises, right?”
I quickly shake my head. “No, this is Rurik. He’s my…” Fuck, what is he? We’re not friends. We’re not even fuck buddies yet. “He’s friends with Nat and Oscar.”
“I know who he is. But if he’s —”
“With all due respect, sir. But if you take one more step closer to her, I will not hesitate to give you the same bruises I see on her face.” Rurik growls, his voice low and deep.
In order words: Sexy.
He sounds sexy as fuck, and I just want to find the nearest empty room — or bathroom — and go down on him. Am I crazy? Is that normal? I think so…
Mr. Rogers’s eyes widen. “What?”
And then it suddenly smacks me in the face.
Fuck… If both Mr. Rogers and Rurik can see the bruises I thought I paid so much money to cover up, then everyone can see how disgusting I look right now.
I step back from them, my eyes darting everywhere to find the nearest bathroom. But before I can do that, I have to set the record straight.
“It’s not him,” I whisper to Rurik, touching his elbow. “He’s like my dad. He would have never done this to me.” But Rurik isn’t showing signs of backing off. I groan, “Angel.”
That grabs his attention as his eyes flicker over to mine. His gaze darts all over my face and lingers at my lips. I’m assuming the cut above the cut is still visible.
Freaking great. I’m so going to leave a bad review online.
Mr. Rogers chuckles suddenly, causing us both to look at him. He is now full-on grinning, his eyes glancing between us knowingly.
“While I don’t appreciate being threatened at my daughter’s wedding,” He smirks. “I appreciate how far you’re willing to go to protect my other daughter.”
Rurik blinks and frowns. Then, realization comes crashing in, and he pales, staring up at him. “Shit.”
Mr. Rogers’s grin turns wicked.
“Shit. Sir, I apologize,” Rurik gulps. “I was watching you two, and I saw her crying, then I saw the bruises, and—”
He stops when Mr. Rogers lifts his hand to silence him.
“I understand,” He says with a sigh. He glances at me quickly before shrugging. “If I can’t get her to talk, maybe you can.” He leans down to kiss my head and nods at us both. “Enjoy the wedding.”
As soon as he walks off, I whirl around to face Rurik with my hands on my hips. “What the hell was that, Rurik?”
But he just glares at me. He nods toward my face and says, “What happened?”
I falter, “What?”
But Rurik isn’t having it. “Who fucking did that to you, Briar?”
I stare at him, torn between wanting to scream for joy that he cares enough to ask and feeling pissed off that he ignored me for days only to adopt this stupid savior complex suddenly.
I shake my head. “What the fuck, Rurik?”
Rurik growls and grabs my hand, pulling me to a room upstairs that the bridal party had used to get ready. He lightly pushes me inside, ignoring my indignant noises.
“Rurik—”
“Fucking answer me, Briar!”
“No! Fuck you, Rurik,” I yell back, my patience snapping like a fragile rope. “You don’t get to ignore me for days after our talk and then proceed to act like some macho man to Nat’s dad. Who the hell—”
Oh.
Oh god.
I’m not imagining it. Rurik is kissing me again.
Fuck, what is up with him and angry kisses, and why do I love it so much?
Something about his angry kisses ignites a fire within me, awakening parts of myself that have felt dormant. It feels like my body is reconnecting with life, and my mind is clearing from the fog that has clouded it for the past few days.
I grab him, wrap my arms around his neck, and press my body against him. He wraps his arms around my waist, deepening the kiss.
“You’re fucking annoying,” Rurik murmurs against my lips.
“I missed you too, angel.” I grin, nibbling on his bottom lip.
After a few minutes, we both pull away to gain back some air. Rurik swallows hard as he stares at me, and I push up to kiss his Adam’s apple.
Fuck. I can’t believe I miss him. It’s only been a few days, damn it! What is it about this man that makes me so addicted?
“Sorry,” He mutters, letting go of me, much to my disappointment. “I don’t know what happened back there.”
I grin again because I can’t help it. He’s so damn cute, I can’t take it.
He. Fucking. Loves. Me!
“I must have pre-gamed so hard this morning,” He sighs, shaking his head.
“Aren’t you technically working?” I ask. “You were painting the wedding, right? I haven’t seen it yet, but I’m excited to!”
“Yeah. I’m painting the reception too,” Rurik clears his throat, looking at my face. His eyes linger on a spot on my face, and he frowns. “What happened?”
And just like that, my grin fades. I lift a hand to touch the bruise, forcing a laugh. “Like I told Mr. Rogers, I fell. I smacked my face on the coffee table.” Rurik”s frown deepens, prompting me to change the subject quickly. “You might have witnessed that if you came over or answered my texts!”
This time, Rurik rolls his eyes. “My phone broke, and I didn’t have time to get a new one until this morning.”
I cross my arms. “And you couldn’t be bothered to text me immediately?”
Rurik glares. “Why? We’re not friends.”
I glare back. “Wow, Rurik. You sure know how to make a girl feel special.”
“Don’t forget my boundaries, Briar.”
“We haven’t done anything for us to cross any boundaries, Rurik,” I scoff. “Why are you stalling?”
But Rurik just glares at me, his eyes flashing with annoyance and something else.
Then, my frustration from his radio silence boils over like a disgusting pimple. “You could have just texted me back, you know? I would have been happy to hear anything from you. We didn’t even have to fool around. We could have just hung out. I could have just shown you where I had put your paintings. We could have—”
I stop abruptly. Fuck, I sound so needy right now, don’t I?
Get it together, Briar. Calm down.
So, remember that feeling of ecstasy I had felt when I saw him again today?
Yeah, that’s gone.
Long gone.
In fact, I’m fucking pissed now. I’m seething with anger and hurt.
I thought he came to me because he actually cared, but obviously not. I reach my breaking point when Rurik remains silent and only glares at me with his jaw clenched tightly.
I close my eyes, suddenly feeling exhausted.
Blackness threatens to take a step in my vision again.
Shit.
Not again.
I open my eyes and mutter a lie, “I gotta go. Bridesmaids duties.”
I run the hell out of there. I can’t do this anymore. I’m so done chasing after that asshole.
It’s obvious he wants nothing to do with me, so why do I keep chasing him over and over? Why do I pursue someone just to grasp the connection I”m clearly fabricating in my mind?
I shake my head, clearing my throat and forcing a grin when I spot Nat and Oscar dancing on the dance floor. I should be out there, celebrating my best friends.
Not me here on the side sulking because of some dick. Literally.
I push my shoulders back and lift my chin.
Fuck Rurik Campbell.
I’ll find someone else who appreciates all of me. Bruises and busted lips included.