Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
KERIAN
My hand jerks up before Zander has a chance to touch my bruised face, my busted lip. I’d been trying to keep him from seeing it, hoping that the shadow of the balcony we were on would give me the cover I needed.
And then I’d come out because I saw him give that girl his number, and some part of me knew that I’d kill everyone in the fucking house before I let him leave with anyone who wasn’t me tonight.
Not after I came here.
Not after I’d already made up my mind that I was doing this.
That I was going to let him see this part of me.
My fingers are shaking where I’m holding him, and my eyes burn while I search his face. There’s a part of me that still wants to tell him to fuck off—to tell him to get on his knees and suck my cock so we can just make up, because I know he’d probably do it. But…
A bigger part of me knows that if I do that, this is still going to end.
And I realize I can’t let it end.
I can’t let him go.
So…
I draw his fingers forward, brushing them carefully along the sting on my jawline, mesmerized by the way his breath catches when I drag them across my lips. It makes the confession easier, using those digits to cover my mouth like it can somehow make the words stay trapped inside me.
“My dad. It was my dad.” I watch as thoughts bounce around behind his wide, brown eyes, and I wonder if he’s already realizing what happened. It’s probably not hard to come to the conclusion that poor little rich kid wasn’t loved by his parents and that’s why he’s an asshole.
It’s more than that, but if that’s what he wants to think, if that’s what it takes to get the sound of malice out of his tone, I’ll take it.
“Why?”
Or… he could ask questions.
Of course he wants to ask questions.
“I don’t know. He’s a narcissist? An actual sociopath? Do really shitty people ever give a reason for why they want to hurt other people?” I raise one shoulder, tugging his fingers close to my face and smoothing his palm against the sting so I can turn my eyes from him. “He’s been doing it since I was a kid. Fuck, I can remember sometimes he’d come home in the middle of the night and start in on me while I was still sleeping in bed. He never had a reason why—he just made sure I knew I’d fucked up.”
I don’t raise my head. I’ve never told anyone about this. The one and only time I said something was to my mother, and she’d looked at me with sad eyes and asked me, “What did you do to upset him, Kerian? Maybe try to be better next time.”
Try to be better.
What did you do?
I was six years old. I’d never mentioned it to anyone again. I was made into the kind of person I am—but I’m pretty sure my dad has always been that way.
“Kerian…” My fingers on his wrist clench tight enough that I hear a small, pained sound escape his throat, and fuck me, that isn’t what I want.
But I don’t know how to deal with the pity in his voice. I’ve never asked a person to pity me. I don’t want it.
I don’t need it.
But I need him .
I force myself to drop his wrist and look up at him, and I hate that I can feel the tightness in my chest again when I do—the same streaking, clenching sensation that put me on the ground earlier.
“I’m not asking you to be sorry for me, Zander. I’m not telling you I’m not going to be a fucking asshole to you again. I just wanted you to know it happened right before you called.”
This time I do see as his mind works out what I’m saying, the soft oh that sends his lips parting.
I watch his fingers clench and unclench at his sides, like he wants to reach out to me and he’s not sure if he should—if I’d let him. The fucked-up thing is, I’m not sure if I want him to touch me right now or not. Just the expression on his face is almost enough to make me storm out, to say fuck this and walk… but another part of me wants to step forward and drop my head on his shoulder, breathe in the scent of him. Because I get it.
There’s something about Zander that calms all the angry rage in my chest, something about him that feels solid. Real.
Something about him feels like he was made to soothe the darkness inside me, and I never realized how heavy it was until he lifted it with his light.
Fuck.
I really should leave.
I don’t know if he can see that on my face too, because he steps forward suddenly, but all he does is walk us back until we’re completely caught in the shadow of the balcony, so no one can see us.
“Why didn’t your mom stop him?”
“Fuck, you really—” My voice spikes in anger, and I see his expression widen. Was that what he looked like earlier? No, it was probably worse then. I force myself to take a deep breath.
I’m doing this.
I already told myself I was doing this.
Which means I need to talk.
“She’s probably one of the only reasons I haven’t completely cut them out yet. I think a part of me thought if I made it, if I showed her how much Dad’s money means shit… I don’t know.” It sounds stupid coming from my lips, but I know it’s true. A part of me thought if I made it, if I broke my dad of his pride, of his beliefs, if I showed him how fucking wrong he’s always been… maybe she’d see it too.
But that’s not right.
“If she didn’t stop him, why should you try to save her?” Zander’s voice is genuine, but I can hear the undercurrent of anger beneath it. “Does he hurt her?”
“No.” The answer is solid, sure. “Just me. He thinks I’m just an extension of him, so he can do whatever he wants to me.”
“Then fuck them both.” The vehemence in his voice is so palpable I can almost feel it against my skin. It’s warm and fierce and solid. It’s so real.
“Yeah, I guess so. I don’t know why I ever gave a shit to begin with.”
Zander draws up short, frowning. “She’s your mom. You always want your mom there cheering you on.” He sounds sure of that too, and I can tell from the way he says it that he has a mother who has always supported him. I’d usually scoff, maybe call him out on it. Instead, I just shrug again, leaning back so my shoulders hit the siding of the house and I can drop my gaze to the ground again.
“I don’t need anyone cheering me on but you, Dimples.”
I almost choke getting the words out, but they’re there and they’re true. It’s not exactly an apology, and it’s not me saying we’re boyfriends and I’m going to treat him right. I already told him there’s a huge possibility I’ll get mad again, that I’ll say mean shit that’s going to hurt his feelings.
But if I can say this to him now, maybe he’ll realize that we can always come back from it.
Warm fingers slide along my jawline again, cupping my face and forcing me to look up. Even in the dark, I can see that Zander’s cheeks are a little flushed. I can see the jump of his pulse in his neck.
“What did you say?”
Fuck me, is this my penance? Is this how he’s going to make me pay for being a dick earlier?
“You heard me.”
“Say it again.” The small quirk of a smile at the corner of his mouth tells me that yes, this is exactly how he’s going to punish me. Even as he does it, though, his thumb brushes the corner of my lips where the cut still stings.
I blow my breath out slowly and grit my teeth for a second before sighing. “I realized it after he hit me, after I broke my phone and I was sitting there thinking I’d fucked everything up?—”
“You still might have.” The tease in his voice says otherwise, but he hikes his brows like he’s daring me to stop now.
“I told them to fuck off. I didn’t understand why, or what had changed… but it’s you. Fuck, Zander. You changed everything.” When I shiver at my own words, he tilts his head. I could be done with that and it would probably be enough for him because it’s more than I’ve ever given anyone , but for some reason, now that I’ve started, I have to keep going. “I’ve spent my whole life wanting to prove to my dad that I’m worth more than he could ever be, that I’m a better person than he could ever dream of being. When I was younger, it was what kept me going some nights… and then I realized I didn’t need it anymore.”
“No?” Zander’s voice is soft, full of some emotion I can’t quite place.
“No. I don’t need to prove shit to either of them because I have you.” My chest feels tight, so I smirk at him and quickly add on. “Why would I need them when I could spend the rest of my career showing you I’m a better player than you are?”
He lets me get away with the levity, because a loud laugh bursts from his chest and I can feel something in mine settle. I was worried I wasn’t going to hear his dumbass laugh again, or see him smile.
I was worried I’d fucked up, and I was going to have to spend the rest of my life stalking Zander and catching him off guard so I could touch him. I raise my hand now, almost like an experiment, and carefully run my fingers through his hair, pushing the strands from his face while I step closer to him.
He freezes, his expression shuttered for just a second before it goes soft when I lean in and bury my nose against his hair.
“You aren’t allowed to treat me like shit, Kerian.” He finally says it, and my fingers spasm enough to tug the strands and pull a small little sound of protest from his chest. “I’m not saying you can’t be a pissy asshole, because you’ve always been an asshole. But if shit gets bad, just tell me. Hell, tell me to fuck off if you need to, but don’t…” He pauses on the word and pulls back enough to catch my gaze. I can see all the hurt he must have felt in his expression, and the resolve that’s behind it now. “Don’t do that again. If you need space, tell me you need space. But don’t act like you don’t need me.”
It sounds like an impossible ask. I’ve spent my entire life keeping people at a distance and not giving a shit about anyone or anything around me. I’ve spent my entire life so sure that I’d had too many parts of me damaged when I was younger to even think about making space for someone else.
But Zander’s here, standing in front of me, and I realize he made space all by himself. He made space the second he strolled across the football field and pressed his lips to mine. I didn’t have to do anything.
“I can do that.”
His expression goes soft again, and he blows out a breath like he wasn’t sure how I was going to react to his demands. Honestly, I wasn’t sure either, so…
“Good.” He steps closer to me and tilts his head up. It takes me a second to realize what he’s doing, and I freeze under his touch when he runs his lips along my skin and the swelling on my cheek. A small shiver zips up my spine when his mouth brushes against the cut at the corner of mine before his lips land gently on my own. The kiss tastes like blood, and I can’t help but think as he slips his arms around me and steps into me, that this is the first time someone has ever comforted me after Dad hit me.
I open my mouth and let him trail his tongue between my lips, let him lick against the roof of my mouth and my shredded jaw with a tenderness I don’t really know how to process but I find myself craving. I want this. I didn’t realize I was becoming addicted to the way Zander cares , but I was.
I am.
I’m not sure I can live without it now.
My arms wrap around him and I pull him closer to me, the violent beating of his heart telling me he can feel whatever this is that’s happening is different. This kiss is different.
Fuck, it’s different.
It means more . It almost feels like a first kiss all over again, because I’m doing it knowing that I want to keep doing it forever.
I want to keep him forever.
When he pulls back, I chase his mouth and bite his lower lip before letting him go. He’s flushed again, his eyes warm, his pupils slightly dilated.
But it doesn’t stop him from leaning forward and brushing his mouth against the bruise on my jaw one more time.
“Hey, Kerian?”
“Yeah, Dimples?”
“If I ever see your dad, I’m going to put him in the fucking ground.”