Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
KERIAN
There’s a part of me that realizes whatever is going on with Zander can’t be a thing that lasts. I know I’ve always told myself I’m never going to care about someone, that I’m never going to let any other person be a reason I feel or need anything.
But for some reason, it’s been a few weeks since I snuck into Zander’s room and fell asleep… and it’s happened two more times since then.
I don’t sleep well—I haven’t slept well since I was a kid and it was dangerous to let my guard down—but there’s something about being in his room, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat, that makes it easy. Safe.
That and it’s amazing to wake up with his lips wrapped around my cock on the days that his roommate has already gone to class.
I’ve been in a better mood over the last few weeks than I have been in a while, and I notice…
It’s one more reason that I should definitely be breaking this shit with Zander off… but instead, I’m shooting him a text after I get out of practice, a picture of my hair slicked back from the shower and the sun catching water droplets in my lashes.
Me: Hungry, Dimples?
I grin, because I know there’s a fifty-fifty chance he’s either going to ask for sex or something to eat, but there’s a one hundred percent chance I’ll end up getting both.
Dimples: How do u always look so good
I wait with a smirk on my face, and…
Dimples: I could eat
I stuff my phone into my pocket, ready to make him wait until I get back to my apartment because I know he’s going to wonder what I meant. It makes me smirk, makes delight lick up my spine.
And it’s thoughts of torturing him slowly with exactly what I mean that has me distracted when I climb out of my car, so I don’t notice the two people waiting for me until a hand catches me by the shoulder and spins me around in the empty hall in front of my apartment.
“What the fuck—” My eyes meet the steely expression of my Dad, and my voice cuts off. “What are you doing here?”
“Your coach said you were sick after your game, so we thought we’d pay you a visit where you couldn’t run off.” My mother’s voice is soft, sweet. I can remember every time she talked to me like that—every time Dad was at work. Every time he wasn’t around to see her do it.
It was almost worse, the way she cared when he wasn’t there to judge her for it. It was definitely worse when she’d close the door behind him when he came into my room to wake me up with a fist to my gut and demands that I get up—that I do something. That I make myself useful .
And that sweetness wasn’t there at all the weeks on end that he decided to pretend I didn’t exist—no smiles, no hugs. No food or acknowledgement.
Nothing.
My eyes drift from the smile she has plastered on her face to my dad’s angry expression.
That’s what’s going to decide how this situation goes.
It always has.
“I wasn’t sick.” I shrug one shoulder, fixing my gaze completely on him.
“I saw that throw. Of course you weren’t sick. But running off like that right after a game is a great way to make sure you fuck up any scouts?—”
“Oh, fuck off.” I snap before he can try to give me advice that he doesn’t even understand. “The only thing I fucked up was whatever your plans were.”
“We just wanted to see you play.” Mom’s voice is still that soft tone, and it makes my jaw tic. I swear to fuck he brings her because he knows it gets to me.
“That’s what a TV is for.”
“If I want to watch my son play in person, I’ll watch you play. When you’re a professional, we’ll have seats?—”
“You aren’t coming to my fucking games when I’m pro.” I snap it out without thinking, and my dad’s eyes darken.
The thought of them being there, trying to get screen time, trying to ride the high of everything I’ve worked so hard to get is enough to make my stomach turn. I don’t want them anywhere near the life I’m building for myself.
“We’re going to be there every step of the way, Kerian. You owe us at least that much.”
You owe us . Mom’s voice, slightly higher pitched, taking on that bitchy whine that means she’s falling into perfect place beside whatever the fuck my dad wants.
Like usual.
I turn, throwing a hand up. “I have plans. If you want to visit, make sure to call next time so I can tell you to fuck off over the phone.”
A hand catches my shoulder and I go instantly numb. It’s amazing , I think, as my body spins around, that I cornered an asshole and broke his fucking fingers for touching Zander, but my muscles still tense up and freeze whenever my dad lays hands on me, like I’m a little kid again who can’t get away from him.
I hate it.
“You’re pathetic , Kerian.” I set my jaw, but I don’t get a chance to respond. My dad’s hand lashes out, fist closed. I feel blood blossom across my face, my lip splitting, but I don’t fall.
I’m not small anymore.
It doesn’t stop my eyes from flicking to my mother standing behind him.
Arms at her sides.
Face impassive.
Like always.
“Fuck you.” I take a step back. My vision is flashing in and out, splotches of red and grayed out color.
Fury and numbness.
That anger I can barely control and the chill in my chest I learned when I was young that I keep wrapped around me like a cloak.
“What did you just say to me?”
“I said fuck you. I don’t need shit from you. I don’t owe you anything.” My eyes narrow, and I have to repeat four words in my head over and over again.
You can’t kill him .
You can’t kill him .
Fuck, I want to kill him.
“How do you think you can afford?—”
“I don’t need shit from you.” The fact that he still thinks it’s his money that’s getting me through and not what my grandparents left me is insane . Yeah, I drive the car they bought me when I was a teenager, but I’d happily use the key to stab his eyes out then give them back to him. I don’t need his money. I have more than enough to get me through the rest of school… and there’s no world where I don’t go to the NFL.
There’s no world where I have to do this anymore.
I have everything, and there’s not a goddamn thing he could say to make me think I need him. I don’t need him to be proud of me. I don’t need him to praise me.
There’s no finding a way to make my mother realize what a piece of shit she married. Her seeing my future, who I’m going to become, isn’t going to make her change her mind.
And seeing his face crumble when he realizes every time he hit me, every time he told me I was worthless, every time he told me I couldn’t make it without his help? It wasn’t worth another second looking at him.
“You owe us everything .”
I step toward him, and I wonder if this is the first time he’s realized how much bigger I am than him—how easy it would be for me to give him back every hit he’s ever given. I don’t know what’s changed—I don’t know why I’m suddenly done putting up with this shit, done pretending…
But I am.
“If you come here again, I’ll fucking kill you. I’m done with this. I’m done with you.” My eyes flick to my mother. “Both of you. I don’t need anything from you, and you aren’t getting a goddamn thing from me.”
Maybe it’s my expression, or maybe it’s the fact that someone comes out of their apartment at the same second I take another step toward him. Whatever it is, my dad’s eyes narrow, and he takes a step back.
“You’re going to regret this.”
My jaw clenches.
“Kerian,” my mom starts, and I shake my head. Maybe she never hit me, but she sure as shit never did anything to stop him from doing it.
She’s just as bad as he is.
“I’m done.”
I shoulder past him hard enough to send him knocking into the wall and step into my apartment, closing the door behind me with a loud slam.
I lock it and brush past Asher as he starts to ask questions about my split lip and the bruise I’m sure is forming on my jaw.
Fuck.
I don’t realize my entire body is shaking until I get into my room. I don’t realize that I’m not sure whether I want to laugh or break something, because this was something I should have done years ago.
This was something I should have done the second I left home.
I don’t know why I didn’t before. I don’t know what’s?—
My phone rings, and I snatch it out of my pocket with a scowl, worried it’s them still out in the lobby, demanding I come and talk to them again.
But Zander’s name is on the screen, and something in my chest feels tight.
He wants to see me.
I’m supposed to meet up with him.
My fingers come to my lips, and my brows snap together. They’re trembling .
I’m fucking shaking.
I can feel the odd, floating feeling of something close to dissociation trying to creep up along my spine, and…
Fuck.
I can’t see him like this.
I finally closed the door to the people in my life who spent my entire childhood making me feel vulnerable, unworthy .
And Zander…
Fuck.
Zander is a whole different field of feelings, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with them.
My thumb punches the screen and I answer with just my voice, pulling the phone to my ear so I don’t have to see his face.
“Braithe.” Fuck, is my voice wavering? Shaking? Is that fuzzy, detached feeling spilling up my vocal chords? “What do you want?”
“What do I want?” He snorts. “You’re the one who texted me a thirst trap. Though if you need me to list it off, I want?—”
I cut him off before he gets started, because I can’t do this right now. His voice is making my chest feel tight, and I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t know why it’s happening.
“Something came up, I can’t go get food.”
There’s a pause, and I can almost imagine his lips turning down, the disappointment flashing across his features. After a second, though, he sighs. “Fine. But what if you came to a party with me tonight? I wanted to ask you something anyway.”
Party.
People seeing my split lip—people seeing my bruised jaw. Me having to pull on my mask when I feel like I left it out in the hallway.
I can’t.
“No.”
“We could—” He pauses, like what I said just hit his ears. “Wait, what? No, just like that?”
“Yeah,” I have to say the word through gritted teeth, because that feeling sluicing up my spine hits my shoulders, my jawline, and my teeth threaten to start chattering. “Just like that. I don’t want to go out.”
Zander’s quiet for another second, and then his voice goes soft. Sweet. “Kerian, is everything okay?”
“It’s fine.” I probably answer a little too quickly, because he’s talking before I’m finished.
“No, it isn’t. This is how you sounded when you came over the other night. Kerian, I can’t help if you don’t tell me what?—”
“Help?” I laugh, and it’s so sharp it feels like a blade trailing up my throat. “Who the fuck ever said I needed help from you?”
I don’t need anything from anyone. I don’t need help. I don’t need soft, sweet voices that promise everything is going to be okay when the entire world can go to shit at a moment’s notice if I’m not taking care of myself.
I don’t need?—
“Kerian, babe, please. Listen, I can?—”
“What do you think this is, Zandy ?” I snap the nickname out and hate the way it tastes on my tongue. I hate it even more that I can hear the small sound that catches in the back of his throat. It doesn’t matter—I can barely breathe. I can’t think . My mouth tastes like blood and I can’t let him see me like this. “Babe? Really?”
I don’t feel like I’m in control. The shivers I’m trying to suppress are manifesting as jerking twitches of my muscles that send spasms of pain through my body.
I—
“You aren’t fooling anyone, Kerian. I know you care.”
I laugh, and the sound is so angry and bitter that it makes my stomach turn.
“I care about getting my dick sucked. I care about how tight your ass is. I don’t care enough to go to some fucking party with you. I’m not your goddamn boyfriend, Braithe. This isn’t some happily ever after.”
I bite the inside of my jaw as soon as I say it, and a new wash of blood splashes over my tongue. It’s true though. This isn’t some fairy tale—I’m always going to be just as fucked up as I am right now, and he’s always going to be…
“Kerian…”
Good.
Zander is always going to be good .
Too good for me.
“Go to your party, Zander. I have shit to do.”
That small sound comes from his throat again, and then he grunts. “Fine.” The shaky breath he takes only slightly betrays that he’s upset. “Fine, Slade. Fuck this.”
He hangs up, and I wait until I see the line go dead before a growl tears from my throat and I throw my phone against the wall hard enough that it shatters into a dozen pieces.
“Fuck.” I stare at the broken bits like they have some kind of answer spelled out on the ground. They don’t, though.
They’re just shattered bits of metal and glass, and a surefire way to make sure that if Zander had something else to say to me, I’m not going to be able to hear it.
My tongue slides against the cut on my lip, and I take a shaking breath.
That tightness in my chest isn’t getting better—that lightheaded feeling that makes my scalp tingle and my jaw feel tight.
None of it is getting better because I did that. There’s nothing good about making sure no one in my life has the power to really hurt me.
There’s just…
Fuck.
“Fuck!” I scream it this time and my fist follows the way of my phone, though I’m smart enough to use my off hand at least.
It still sends a jolt of pain up my arm that makes my body spin, makes me smack my shoulders against the wall and slowly sink to the ground beside the broken bits of metal.
My vision is blurry when I look out in front of me, and the sharp sound I make trying to draw a deep enough breath for it to reach the bottom of my lungs fills my ears. That and thundering… my blood rushing… my heart racing.
Thump, thump, thump.
And the echo of Zander sounding so distant and done when he said the word fine .
Thump, thump, thump.
I can’t breathe. I can’t think . All I can do is hear that stupid fucking sound.
Thump, thump, thump .
And then my bedroom door opens, and Asher’s face swims into my vision.
“Kerian?” I’m not sure how many times he’s said my name. I force myself to focus on his mouth first before I finally manage to jerk my gaze up to his.
“What?”
“Uh.” Asher’s brows are drawn together in concern and apprehension, but he’s still here. “Are you okay?” He winces, because it’s obviously a stupid question, and amends it before I can call him out on it. “Do you need anything?”
Fuck.
Do I need anything? To clean up my lip. To drag myself to bed? To realize I’m probably going to spend the next few weeks sleeping like shit, and I have to find a way to make sure that it doesn’t fuck up my performance because I’m so close to getting everything I want that I can taste it.
So why does everything I want suddenly taste like blood?
I know why.
Because I don’t want it like this.
I know what was different this time—why I suddenly realized I didn’t have to give a shit, that I didn’t have to put up with their abuse anymore.
I know what’s different.
My eyes flick down Asher’s body, landing on the outline of his phone in his jeans. My brows come together, because I know… I know what I want.
No, I know what I need.
“Give me your phone.”
If this is going to work… and fuck me, I knew when I started in on him that I wanted to make it work…
Well, Zander needs to see me now, at my worst.
He has to understand that the person he wants to be with isn’t a good person—a whole person.
And he’ll just have to find a way to want me despite it.