Fifteen
Scarlett
“ M ake yourself at home, baby. My room is right through there.” He gestures to the room off the living area. “What would you like for dinner? I was thinking about ordering something.”
I sit my bag down near the couch, feeling the weight of my situation crash against me. “Whit, I just want to say I appreciate you for letting me stay here, but I don’t want to inconvenience you.”
He steps closer, his presence radiating warmth and safety. He takes my chin between his fingers, tilting it up so our eyes meet. “Little flame, you are never an inconvenience. You are mine. And I will take care of what belongs to me. Do you understand?” A flush creeps up my cheeks and I nod slowly, the intensity of his gaze compelling me to comply. “Use your words, Scarlett.”
I swallow hard, the heat pooling low in my belly, making my heart race. “Y-yes, sir, I understand.” He kisses my forehead, a tender yet possessive gesture, before walking back to the kitchen. The warmth of his lips lingers, comforting but awakening something deep inside me. He retrieves menus from the drawer and brings them to the couch, tossing them lightly onto the coffee table.
“I walked in on my father hiding some shady shit in his study one day after school,” Whit starts, his voice low and tense as he scans through the options. “So, I went back later to find out what it was. Pizza good?”
I nod and lean in closer, my interest piqued as my heart starts racing with anticipation. He pulls up an app on his phone and orders the food before he gets back to the details.
“I discovered folders of college students that he had stalked and harassed. There were notes about their class schedules, personal information, and even photos of them without their knowledge. It was fucking creepy, and I knew I had to do something about it.”
My eyes widen in shock, and I instinctively cover my mouth with my hand. “Oh my God, that’s horrible. Did you report him?” My voice betrays my concern, the thought of anyone being subjected to such violation sending chills down my spine.
“I did,” he says, the tension in his voice palpable. “I gathered all the evidence I could and went to the police. They opened an investigation and everything. But here’s the kicker, he ended up blaming everything on me, his own fucking son.”
My heart sinks as I listen, the betrayal cutting deep.
“He claimed that I was the one who had done the stalking and that the folders were part of my addiction. The fucking bastard even had the balls to press charges against me for breaking and entering.” Whit’s face hardens, a mix of rage and disbelief twisting his features.
“That’s terrible. How could he do that to his own son?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper, horrified at what he was revealing.
“He’s a piece of shit,” Whit spits out, his eyes blazing with hurt as he meets my gaze. “He’s always been a controlling, manipulative asshole. But framing me for his own fucking crimes? That’s a new low, even for him.”
The warmth in the room feels stifling, the air heavy with unspoken feelings.
“I got sentenced to fucking five years in prison while that piece of shit is still out there, hurting people. But the worst part is that my sister died without having me there by her side.”
Whit’s been in jail? The revelation hits me like a tidal wave. My breath catches in my throat, and a chilling realization washes over me.
I put my hand on his arm, my heart aching for him. “I’m sorry, Whit. I’m sorry for everything that you’ve been through.”
He shakes his head, jaw tightening as he pulls away slightly.
“And then here he is, doing it to you, too. That’s why I’m not leaving you alone. I won’t let him ruin your life the way he tried to ruin mine.” There’s a fierceness in his declaration that sends shivers down my spine.
“I’m not going to let him get away with this. I’m going to find a way to bring him down, once and for all. And I won’t rest until I’ve made him pay for every fucking thing he’s done.”
“What happened to your sister, Whit?”
Whit takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. “She got sick when she was seven with leukemia,” he says, his voice heavy with sadness. “My mother had taken her to the doctor, and they told her that she was a healthy little girl. But when her symptoms kept coming back, my mom was insistent that something was wrong. She knew her own daughter, and she knew that there was more to her illness than a simple virus.”
He pauses for a moment, collecting himself.
“My dad, being the piece of shit that he is, tried to convince my mom that she was overreacting. He said that she was being irrational and that we couldn’t afford to keep taking her to the hospital.” Whit shakes his head, his eyes darkening with anger. “But my mom refused to give up. She took her to different doctors and specialists until she finally found one who believed her and ran tests. It turned out that my sister had cancer, and the only reason she had gotten so sick is that my father had been giving her medicine for ADHD for years, even though she didn’t have it.”
My jaw drops in horror. “What?” I gasp, unable to believe what I’m hearing. “He gave her medicine for a condition she didn’t have? Why would he do that?” Whit shrugs, his anger palpable. “He said it was to ‘cure’ her wild behavior, but in reality, he was just trying to control her and keep her quiet. He didn’t want a ‘difficult’ daughter, so he drugged her to make her more compliant.”
I shake my head in disgust. “That’s horrible,” I whisper, feeling sick to my stomach.
“We were in the process of moving to get her treatment when I went to prison. My dad took over her treatment and kept her away from us, saying we were a bad influence on her. He kept her drugged up all the time, and she started to lose weight rapidly. Reagan was only seven.” Whit’s voice breaks, and tears well up in his eyes. “I tried to contact her, but my father blocked me at every turn. I couldn’t do anything for her from behind bars.”
I reach out and take his hand in mine, offering what little comfort I can. “I’m so sorry, Whit,” I say softly, my heart breaking for him and his sister. “It must have been so hard for you.”
He nods, his gaze distant.
“When she was nine, she was diagnosed with leukemia, and it was all downhill from there. My mom tried to get custody of her, but my father’s lawyers fought her at every turn. She was stuck with him, and he continued to drug her and keep her under his control. The cancer progressed rapidly, and by the time she turned eleven, she was gone. My mother was never the same after that.” Whit’s words hang heavily in the air, the tragedy of his past weighing heavily on his shoulders. I don’t know what to say, how to even begin to comfort him.
“I don’t even know what to say,” I breathe, feeling overwhelmed by the pain and grief he has carried with him for so long. “I can’t even imagine what that must have been like for you.”
He shakes his head, his eyes still glistening with unshed tears. “It was hell,” he says simply, his voice hollow. “But that’s in the past now. I’m here, and I’m not going to let that bastard ruin anything for us. I won’t let him hurt you, Scarlett. I promise.”
I nod, feeling a surge of gratitude and affection for him.
“Thank you, Whit,” I say, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. The doorbell rings, breaking the tense atmosphere. Whit stands abruptly, determination radiating off him. He walks to the door, the shadows of his past haunting him, but his resolve is solid.
I watch him, admiration and affection swelling within me as he pays for the pizza. I want to reach out, to comfort him and blend our worlds into one. As he returns with pizza boxes in hand, I know that whatever happened before, we face the future together.
“Alright, let’s eat,” he says, sitting beside me and placing the boxes on the coffee table before getting comfortable.
“But first,” he turns to me, eyes softening, “promise me you’ll always be safe. No matter what.” His voice is gentle and soothing, like a warm blanket on a cold night. The tenderness of it surprises me, and I find myself nodding in agreement, unable to speak.
His gaze lingers on me for a moment longer before he opens the pizza boxes, and the aroma of melted cheese and crispy crust fills the air. My stomach rumbles in anticipation, and I can’t help but smile. Whit chuckles and hands me a slice. “Dig in, little flame.” Whit watches me intently, his eyes never leaving my face as I take a bite.
I can’t help but squirm under his gaze, feeling exposed and vulnerable. It’s as if he sees straight through me, into the depths of my soul. “I can see the fire burning inside you, Scarlett,” he says, his voice low and husky.
I blush under his scrutiny, unsure of how to respond. “I’m not sure what you mean,” I whisper, averting my gaze. He leans in closer, his breath hot on my skin.
“Don’t be coy with me, little flame. I see the way you look at me, the way your body responds to mine. We’re more alike than you think. We’re both haunted by our pasts, both searching for something to fill the void within us.”
His words send a shiver down my spine, and I can feel my heart pounding in my chest.
I don’t know what to say, how to react. Part of me wants to run, to escape this intense connection between us. But another part of me wants to stay, to let him consume me completely. “Scarlett, look at me,” he commands, his voice stern. I hesitantly meet his gaze, my breath catching in my throat.
“Good girl,” he purrs, his eyes darkening with desire. Suddenly, he grabs me and pulls me into his lap, his strong arms wrapping around me tightly. I gasp in surprise but quickly melt into his embrace, my body yearning for his touch. His lips crash against mine, hungry and desperate, as if he’s been holding back for far too long. I moan into the kiss, surrendering to his passion, to the fire that burns between us.
As his tongue explores my mouth, his hands roam over my body, leaving trails of heat wherever they touch. I can feel his arousal pressing against me, and it ignites a fierce need within me that I’ve never experienced before.
Just as things start to get heated, the sound of a phone pinging interrupts us. We break apart, both panting and flushed from desire. Whit pulls his phone from his pocket, checking the message.
“Blaine texted. Practice starts at ten tomorrow,” he states. “Now, before we continue, dinner first. I need to take care of you. You’ve had a rough day,” he says. “But after dinner, you’re mine .” His words leave me feeling both nervous and excited. I know he means what he said, and I can’t help but wonder what he has in store for me.
“Tell me more about yourself, little flame,” he says, his voice low and seductive.
“Well, I love literature” I reply, feeling a bit self-conscious. “I’ve always been fascinated by the power of words. I want to be a writer someday, and make a difference in the world.”
“I think you could help me with my lyrics,” he mentions. “Maybe you could teach me some fancy words and show me how to turn them into something beautiful.”
I laugh, enjoying the playful banter between us. “Maybe.”
“I’m serious, baby. The label wants us to bring in brand new songs. You’ve already been the inspiration for one that I’ve written.” I look at him and my heart speeds up. “You’ve changed me. You make me want to write music that means something.”
I blush, feeling flattered by his words. “I don’t know what to say,” I reply, my voice barely above a murmur.
“Just say you’ll work with me, little flame.” His eyes are pleading, and I can’t help but feel a pull towards him, towards this opportunity. “Okay,” I nod, a smile tugging at my lips. “I’ll help you, Whit.”
He grins, pulling me into a tight embrace. “Thank you, baby. You have no idea what this means to me.”
We spend the next hour discussing ideas for the new album and brainstorming lyrics. It’s invigorating and inspiring to see the passion and creativity behind his music. He’s a true artist, and I feel honored to be a part of his journey. As the night wears on and the conversation flows, I find myself more and more drawn to Whit.
He brings out his guitar and strums it lightly, his fingers dancing across the strings. The music is soothing and hypnotic, and I can feel my eyelids growing heavy. He notices my sleepiness and sets the guitar aside, pulling me close to him, until he’s carrying me through his apartment.
“Sleep, baby,” he whispers, his voice gentle and comforting as he lays me on his large bed. “I’m here. You’re safe.” I nod, my head resting on his chest, the rhythmic beating of his heart lulling me into a deep slumber. I know I’m safe with him, that he would never let anything harm me. And as I drift off to sleep, I can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, I’m not alone in this world after all.
And maybe, I am ready to discover the love that’s been forever out of reach.