Chapter Eleven #2
I never understood why he didn’t turn his rage on me; he only wanted to beat on her.
He enjoyed stomping out her light, and it pissed him off further when he couldn’t extinguish it completely.
Blake talking to Bristol like that makes me irate, but without her coming clean about everything, I can’t show up at his house and drag him into the streets to teach him a lesson about what happens when weak-ass men beat on women.
So instead, I do the only thing I can right now, despite every muscle in my body telling me to do the latter. I be her friend and listen.
“Do you want those things, Bristol?”
“Hell no. I love my body, despite it not being the version society says is perfect. I’m obsessed with scalding hot showers, despite knowing it wreaks havoc on my skin.
I’m obsessed with my career and won’t give it up for anyone, and the idea of being a housewife sounds miserable to me. It would never make me happy.”
“Then that’s the only opinion that matters.” A dark laugh bubbles from her as she presses the lid of the mug against her lips to take a sip. “I’m serious. You don’t need the approval of anyone. You’re a queen, Bristol, own it. Don’t let anyone deter you from what makes you happy.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“It is. Sacrifices and compromises are necessary sometimes, but why would someone who loves you ask you to change the things you love most about yourself?” She ponders my words, sitting back, muffin long forgotten.
“You need to eat.”
“I’ll be okay.”
“Have you eaten yet today?” She looks away, eyes darting to something on her desk, ignoring my question. “Eat, Bristol, please, or I’ll feed you myself. And trust me, baby, that won’t be a hardship.”
She relents, her eyes never leaving mine as she sensually breaks off a piece of the muffin and slowly places it in her mouth. It’s erotic, sexy as hell, and I swear to Christ, she knows exactly what she’s doing to me. Little flirt.
We eat in silence, my mind lost to thoughts of her mouth on my fingers instead, and goddamn do I want to feed her, to love on her, fucking worship her so much that she never second-guesses her worth.
I need to get her out of her head, show her some adventure, give her some fun, which means I really need to try to get her to the clubhouse.
“So, what are your plans for the weekend? Anything fun on your schedule?” Her face immediately falls, and I realize it was the wrong thing to ask.
“Uhm, yeah, Blake—my fiancé—has this gala Saturday night, the company he works for does business with some politician that’s up for re-election, so we’re attending a fundraiser, I guess.”
I internally cringe at the drop of his name. Of course he would bring her to some stuffy event. She doesn’t seem like the type who wants to dress up in formal wear and waltz around a ballroom with the rich and famous.
“A gala? Is that your typical scene?”
“Oh, no,” she laughs. “I’m more of a hard cider and bonfire kind of girl.
I struggle to walk in heels; I hate pretentious asshats that only talk for the sake of hearing themselves speak.
It’s all just too fake. And I’m a people person, Rhys!
I guess I’m just drawn to the real and the raw, the messy, and the unapologetic.
I don’t need all the pomp and circumstance. ”
Called it.
God damn, would she love a clubhouse party.
The complete opposite of everything she hates.
Hell, maybe I’d start to enjoy them again if she were in my lap.
I imagine she’d blush the first time she sees Wrath with his cock out fucking a patch bunny out in the open.
I know everyone would love her. My mind turns with ways to get her to the clubhouse someday when my phone buzzes in my pocket.
I ignore it, wanting to give Bristol my full attention.
But when the second text message comes through, I pull out my phone, needing to make sure everything’s okay with the club.
“I’m sorry, I just need one second.”
Malice: I’m hungry
Malice: Will you pick up muffins from Daily Rise when you’re finished in Bloomfield? I can’t leave cause I have to babysit dipshit while he works this account stuff
Me: How do you know where I am, Mal?
Malice: Because…….
Me: You’re not supposed to stalk me
Malice: It’s not stalking if you know I’m doing it
Me: I’ll get your muffins if you get me a ticket to attend a fundraiser gala hosted by some rich bitch politician on Saturday night. I’m assuming you can figure it out
Malice: I want five
Malice: And a donut
Malice: And a hot chocolate with whipped cream
Me: Deal
I pocket my phone, and feeling confident that Bristol won’t be attending without a friend there, I return my attention to her. She’s relaxed back in her chair, both hands cupping the to-go mug. She looks content, at ease, and I love this look on her. I also love that I’m responsible for it.
Bristol
Rhys is giving me that look again. That one that burns me up from the inside out.
Its smoldering intensity leaves me breathless.
I want to bask in his warm rays, would willingly let myself burn up just to feel it.
Everything about him is so different from everything I’ve ever experienced before.
Such a drastic contrast to what I have with Blake.
I wish I could tell Rhys that this attention, the way he looks at me, the connection that thrums like a live wire between us so palpably, has given me a renewed confidence in what I want in a relationship that I didn’t realize I needed.
Whether or not anything ever happens between Rhys and me, it’s proof that something more exists out there, and settling would be such an injustice to myself.
I can’t keep going the way I have been, making excuses, waiting for things to change.
Rhys holds my eyes hostage as I lift the mug to my lips, my pulse fluttering wildly as I sip on the warm latte, the rich vanilla and cardamom flavors bursting on my tongue.
It’s hard not to let my eyes flutter closed and moan around the rim.
Rhys taking note of how much I enjoy them and continuing to keep me stocked is further proof of what a sweetheart he is .
. . and how interested he clearly is in me, despite everything standing in his way.
“You know you don’t have to supply me with caffeine and pastries in order to volunteer, right? I’m starting to feel bad.”
His lips lift up in a devilish smirk that is too sexy for its own good.
“I’m well aware, but then I’d be depriving myself of watching you enjoy it.”
And my panties are on fire. Does he know what he’s doing?
“You’re a shameless flirt; I’ll give you that.”
“Not for everyone.”
“Mhm. Tell me a secret, Rhys.”
He thinks for a moment, crossing his leg over his thigh and leaning backward comfortably in the chair.
“My childhood was pretty rough. Only one other person really knows, besides the people who lived it with me. My dad abused my mom emotionally, mentally, and physically. She’s an angel, Bristol, really.
It started when I was young, and I didn’t really understand why, and I suppose I still don’t.
I think I’ve come to accept that some people are just evil.
Probably why I love animals so much more than them.
It went on until I became a teenager, and then one day, I was suddenly bigger than him.
I caught him wailing on her, and this time, I fought back.
Anyway, long story short, she got out of it, and she’s now living in a cute little house with her wife.
But I can still remember it like it was yesterday, her bruises, her cuts, the way the pain no longer made her cry. It changes you. It shaped me.”
Rhys uses the back of his hand to wipe away a rogue tear while my shattered heart falls away in pieces. This beautiful, tender man witnessed such cruelty by the one man who should always protect him and his mother. God, I can’t imagine what they’ve been through and the strength it took to get away.
I set my coffee down, standing and moving around to sit next to him on the little couch.
We’ve only known each other for a couple of weeks, only been in each other’s presence a few times, but talking together, it feels so natural and easy, like we’ve known each other in every single life before this one.
This man couldn’t be further from a stranger to me.
We both are guilty of opening up so easily, and I understand why.
We’re connected in a way that I can’t put into words.
“I’m so sorry, Rhys. I can’t imagine what the two of you have been through, what you’ve survived. No one should ever experience this. I’m so glad your mom is safe and living such a happy life. She deserves all the happiness in the world, you both do.”
“Didn’t mean to get all emotional on you.”
“Never be sorry for being raw with me. I see you. I don’t want the filtered version of you. I want this one. You don’t ever talk about it?”
“Nah. The days have to move on. I was in therapy for years, talked it to death, but then I just packed it down deep and kept on with life. My mom’s alive, she’s happy, and in the best relationship of her life, and she’s got me.
She’ll tell you till she’s blue in the face that I’m the best thing that came out of that situation, and it was all worth it to have me. ”
“She sounds incredible, Rhys.”
My watch buzzes, my reminder for the surgery I need to get to. My shoulders sag, not wanting to pry myself away from him, especially not after all of this.
“Everything worked out, that’s all that matters now. Go, I’m not going to keep you when you have animals that need you. I’ll be around when you’re done.”
I give him a solemn look, doing my best to convey how badly I don’t want to walk away. And when I finally get the strength to do just that, every fiber of my being is telling me to go back to him.