Chapter 17
17
Jack
I wasn’t the type to make mistakes. The decisions I made were clearly motivated and my plans were prepped and well-executed. But I’d sorely misjudged this situation. After Aviva had physically rejected me, I’d been angry, and so I’d carefully planned my retaliation.
There’s nothing you do that’s loveable, and there’s nothing about you that’s loveable, Jack Feldman. I wish I’d never met you, and I can’t wait for the day you’re finally out of my life for good.
Her words haunted me. At the time, I’d refused to feel regret over what I’d done to her. Making her take Vixen and lose all of her inhibitions had been a great plan; letting my teammates participate so we could all humiliate her together had seemed even better. Judah, especially, had egged me on once he’d learned what she’d try to do to us. And making her so desperate, so horny, that I finally got her shirt off? Getting to see that part of her, and her knowing she’d played a role in it by taking the Vixen in the first place? Perfection .
Seeing her tonight, so broken and so free, had woken something feral inside me. Touching her, playing with her, watching her writhe on the table with an audience surrounding us had been equal parts hot and horrible.
But when it came down to it, when Judah and Levi had reached out to play with her tits, I’d lost my everloving mind. And I hadn’t gotten it back.
No one else was going to touch her. No one else should’ve seen her. As I thrust inside her from behind, as I bounced her on my cock, as I finally got my hands on those sweet, soft tits with their hard, fat little nipples, as I felt her come around me, again and again, as I fucked her raw , there was only word in my mind, on repeat:
Mine.
Which meant that it had been a mistake, letting any other man see her naked.
It wouldn’t be happening again.
I tried to recover, but my breath had gone missing along with my mind. Inhaling and exhaling deliberately to slow my heart rate, I caressed Aviva’s bare breasts, enjoying the ripples of her aftershocks. Indulging myself for a moment, I nuzzled her hair and considered my next steps.
As my fingers traced her chest, I encountered skin that felt raised and a little rough. Before I could explore further, Aviva let out a bloodcurdling scream and began to fight me like a wildcat. Confused, I grabbed her around her waist, ignoring the scratching and hitting. Finally, she cowered against me, arms wrapped around herself, like she was terrified.
I shushed her, rubbing her back. The come down from Vixen could be fairly drastic. Although Mason Calloway, my counterpoint at our rival school, had drugged his girlfriend with it, and she’d gone to sleep after .
Dave Lawson, the goalie who’d replaced Asher, cleared up the mystery of the bump on Aviva’s skin.
“That’s some scar,” he said, snapping me out of my own Vice-induced haze.
Everything in me froze solid.
“What scar?” I asked.
At that, Aviva screamed again, struggling against me like a cornered animal. I gathered her tighter.
“How could you? I hate you!” she railed against me.
I ignored her. “What scar?” I demanded again.
Nick McPherson, my backup, raised his chin. “See for yourself.”
Dread skittered in my chest. Aviva used my distraction to shove away from me, crawling down the table. Before my brain could catch up, I grabbed her by the ankle and dragged her back toward me.
“You aren’t going anywhere, princess,” I told her, but I was gentle as I flipped her over onto her back and dragged her arms away from her chest.
I saw it. There was no way to miss it, now that she couldn’t hide it with a high-necked tanktop or turtleneck. The scar was a long, dark, red-brown raised line of bumps and ridges. It ran from her sternum, up her cleavage between her breasts, ending below her right collar bone. Whatever it was from, it was old. A part of her body, and a secret she’d hidden from everyone. From me.
Until now.
Now, not only did I know her secret—all these motherfuckers did.
Guilt replaced the dread inside me, but instead of skittering around, it stabbed me directly in the gut.
“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you,” Aviva was still saying. Soft sobs shook her body, and tears filled her open eyes. She didn’t close them, maybe because she wanted me to see how hurt and angry she was. It didn’t matter that in this moment, she was deeply broken—she’d never been more beautiful.
And all these motherfuckers were witnessing it.
Not for any longer.
“Shut your fucking eyes,” I ordered.
All of my teammates shut their eyes—except for Judah, Levi, and Isaac.
“You, too,” I said, and all three did. Isaac was the last to do it, glancing at Aviva with sympathy and me with derision before closing his own.
Knowing they couldn’t see Aviva in her naked pain anymore slightly relaxed me. Raising up off her, I slid off the table, pulled my shorts up over my softening cock, and scooped her into my arms like a bride before carrying her out of the dining room and up the stairs.
The whole way to my bedroom, she continued to sob, beating at me with her tiny fists. I let her. When I reached my room, I readjusted her slightly so I could type in my key code. 1113. November 13, the day I signed my letter of intent from Reina. The day I knew for certain that I was getting away from the nightmare that was my childhood home.
With a beep, the door unlocked, and I kicked it open, entering with Aviva still in my arms.
“I don’t know what you think is going to happen now, so I’ll tell you. I’m going home,” Aviva informed me. The way her voice shook broke something in my chest, the heart I thought was long dead. She was so strong, so brave—and so, so vulnerable.
I’d hurt her. I’d been hurting her this whole time, but not like I had now. I’d taken something from her, more than her virginity. I’d taken her secret and aired it out in front of all those assholes. Would she ever forgive me ?
“I’m going home!” This time, her voice cracked. Tears wet my shirt and I imagined they scalded my skin with shame: hers, and mine.
“Shhhh,” I crooned to her gently as I shut the door with my foot and approached the king bed. I’d made it this morning, the fire red cover and ash gray sheets—Reina’s school colors—still smooth and straight like I’d left them. I’d never had a girl in here. I usually fucked downstairs somewhere, or in Isaac’s room. To have a girl I wanted so badly in my private space messed with my head. I ignored the urge to straighten up the room more for her, and placed Aviva gently on my bed.
She stood up to leave, and I stopped her by climbing onto the bed with her and pulling her into my arms.
“At least let me put clothes on.”
“No.”
Her apples and honey scent soaked my senses, and I buried my face in her wild, tangled hair, breathing her in. Her body was thick and soft, pliant in my arms. My cock stirred.
“That’s why I’m here, then. So you can fuck me again. Humiliate me more.” Her voice sounded dead tired. “Fine. Do it. Fuck me. Humiliate me. What choice do I have? You’ve made that clear, haven’t you, Jack? You. Win. ”
But I hadn’t won. I didn’t know what winning meant anymore. Aviva had a scar, which she’d been hiding from me, but I didn’t know what it was from or why she hid it. There was so much I didn’t know, and I usually knew everything .
“Princess,” I began, before trailing off. What the hell was I going to say?
Sorry would be a good start .
The word got stuck in my throat .
She buried her head in the pillow, ignoring me.
Uneasy and unsure what to do with myself, I got up from the bed and bent over to retrieve a few water bottles out of the mini fridge.
Dropping them next to Aviva on the bed, I rejoined her, pulling her against me and stroking her hair.
“What can I do to make it better?” I asked, hating the urgency in my voice.
“Leave me alone.”
The three words stabbed me in the gut. But the last thing I was doing was leaving her alone right now, not when she was this shaken up, this distraught.
This destroyed.
“Not that,” I told her. “Tell me what to do that includes me being here with you.”
“Nothing,” she murmured into the pillow. Her voice sounded as broken as my heart. “There’s nothing you can do to make it better.”
With that, she fell silent. I rubbed her back as she sobbed, feeling desperate and lost, hating myself as much as she hated me, maybe more.
Finally, her sobs quieted as her breathing evened out. I held her in my arms for longer, until I was sure she was asleep.
I desperately needed air. Needed a drink. I wanted to rip my own hair out. I hated leaving her, but I couldn’t lie here anymore. Kissing her on the forehead, my chest tight, I gruffly, quietly, finally said, “I’m sorry, princess.” I shut the door behind me and hit the lock button.
When the beep announced the lock had engaged, I sank to the floor, burying my head in my hands. Humiliating her that way and getting to the bottom of what was under her shirt were supposed to make me feel amazing. Prove I had won, prove I was still in control. I hadn’t won, I’d lost every vestige of control, and Jesus Fucking Christ, I’d barely even taken a look at the breasts I’d been obsessed with seeing since I’d met Aviva.
“Jack.”
I looked up. Isaac’s voice was soft, his blue eyes watchful, usual smirk nowhere in sight.
“Yeah,” I said.
He shook his head, like he was disgusted with me. “Come downstairs. We need to talk.”
Part of me wanted to argue, to stay camped out on my floor outside of my bedroom, like a guard dog. But Aviva was safe, and couldn’t go anywhere because I’d locked the door from the outside. And sitting here on the floor like a pathetic fuck wouldn’t do anyone any good.
Isaac held his hand out and I took it, using his help to stand on my own two feet before following him down the stairs.
The first floor was empty. The rest of the team had cleared out, probably on Judah and Levi’s orders. Judah and Levi were in the media room, Judah’s hand down his boxers as he played NHL 24 one handed. Levi was cleaning his glasses while staring off into space like the lunatic he truly was.
They both looked up when they saw me.
Judah paused the game, shaking his head, hairs escaping his man bun. “Dude.”
“I don’t want to hear it,” I said, dropping onto the opposite couch.
“You don’t even know what he’s going to say,” Levi pointed out, logical as ever.
Isaac joined me, slinging an arm around the back of the couch but not saying anything .
“Fine, what were you going to say, Judah?”
“You’ve got it bad, man. Down bad.”
I laughed. It sounded hollow. “I didn’t need you to tell me that. Or Taylor Swift, for that matter.”
Judah rolled his eyes. “I know you said she’s a lying, conniving, bitch and is trying to take down Coach and the team?—”
Anger pulsed through me, and I started to stand before I even realized it.
Isaac put a hand out to stop me. “Jack.”
Exhaling, I forced myself to slump back against the couch.
“This is what we mean.” Levi took over. “You claim to hate her, say all these horrible things about her that should mean you don’t give a shit if anyone else says or does anything cruel to her. But if we do, you go apeshit. It was your idea to bring her to the house and fuck her in front of all of us.”
“Nonconsensually,” Judah interjected, his jaw tight. “Which we didn’t realize until the way she fought you once we all saw her scar.”
Levi pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t even want to touch that part. What’s even more fucked is that you invited us to join in, remember?”
“I never invited you to join in,” I protested, feeling sick.
“Maybe not verbally, but when we asked, you didn’t say no. And then the second we touched her, you freaked out. Fucked her like a goddamned animal, and?—”
“It was hot as fuck to see though,” Judah interjected again. “And I hate what that says about me.”
Used to his brother’s interruptions, Levi ignored him. “—acted like it was the two of you alone in that room. Why invite us, if you didn’t want us there, Jack? Why ask us to watch, only to blow up when Dave sees something you didn’t? What’s your end game here? You always used to know—do you now?”
“I know exactly what I’m doing,” I argued. “She needs to pay. Needs to know her place.”
“Does she, really?” Levi asked. “Even if she is a lying, conniving, bitch?—”
“Hey!” My voice was sharp.
Judah chuckled. Levi’s lips twisted in a smile.
“You clearly like her,” Judah said. The insightful asshole added, “You don’t react that strongly to someone who you only keep around for a good fuck. Don’t be an idiot, Jack.”
I swallowed. “I’m worried that I might push her too far, and lose her.”
Judah raised an eyebrow. “Worried you might push her too far? What do you think you just did? A different woman—she would’ve broken in ways even you can’t repair.”
With those chilling words, both twins stood, Judah fixing his man bun and turning off the TV before they both left the room.
I turned to Isaac.
“You’ve been a quiet bastard,” I noted.
Isaac sighed. “I never should’ve told you about that.”
“Well?”
“I saw you, Jack. You insisted on going to The Stacks that night, you followed her even though I told you not to. I know what you were doing that night when you embarrassed the shit out of her. It wasn’t ‘cumdumpster’ that was important, was it? It was the modifier. ‘My.’”
I was surrounded by too many insightful assholes. “We never should’ve let you major in English.”
“Hey, the English majors are the best fucks,” Isaac smirked, then sobered. “If she’s yours, then treat her like she’s yours. It doesn’t matter what she did or planned on doing to us. I know Coach means everything to you, but come on, Jack. That poor girl doesn’t deserve this.”
Fuck. He was right.
He held out his fist, and I fisted my own hand, tapping it against his.
“I need some sleep,” he said. “And probably to rub one out. Because Judah is right. Even though that was a shit show, it was still hot as hell.”
“Don’t you dare fantasize about her,” I growled.
He shook his head. “This is what we mean.”
With that, he left me with my thoughts.
Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I told Siri to call Micah.
After two rings, my brother answered—on FaceTime, because he was a dick like that. It was dark, and he must have been asleep—it was late.
Even in the dark, the asshole looked good. Married life suited him—or whatever approximated married life when you were in a permanent relationship with three other people. His dark blonde hair had grown out a bit. And although his eyes were as astute and working as hard as ever, his face seemed more relaxed somehow.
Happier.
Fucking crazy that anyone who’d grown up in a home like ours could be happy .
“Yacob, what’s going on?” he asked me, his voice scratchy with sleep.
I stiffened.
“It’s Jack,” I reminded him.
It wasn’t the first time I’d had to remind him, and Micah never forgot shit. He did it on purpose. Why, I wasn’t sure.
His voice cleared. “Jack. Right, sorry. What’s going on? ”
“Talk to me about Kara.”
His tone went hard. Protective. “What about her?”
“There’s no threat,” I reassured him.
He visibly relaxed. “What about Kara?”
“When did you know it was more than a fuck for you?”
Micah looked behind him, then turned back to me and smiled. “Subconsciously, I knew the first time I saw her. In reality, it took walking away from her and missing her to realize how much I—we—needed her in our lives. You don’t realize you’re complementary puzzle pieces at first. But when you do, you don’t let go. No matter what.”
A hand—a woman’s hand—appeared in the frame. “Baby, who are you talking to?”
“My little brother,” he told her.
Kara’s face appeared in the screen, soft with sleep. “Jack, what’s going on? Is everything okay?”
The pretty redhead always called me by the right name.
“Jack here is having woman troubles,” Micah told her.
I stiffened. “I’ve got it handled.”
“Do you?” Micah asked.
“When you say you don’t let her go no matter what, you mean no matter what she wants.” I didn’t even ask.
Kara snorted. “He does.”
“Have you fucked her yet?” Micah asked.
“Micah!” Kara chided.
I didn’t answer him. But by his eye roll, it was obvious he knew.
“Two words, kid. After care. ”
“I think that’s one word,” Kara told him.
“I provide the aftercare, I think I know how it’s spelled.”
There was a groan behind them, then a very loud, “Unless our world is ending, hang up, and go the fuck to sleep. ”
“Shut up, boss,” Micah said fondly to Conor, one of their other partners. To me he said, “One word or two, don’t forget to do it.”
“Aftercare is one word,” I said. “And she—” I had started to say doesn’t deserve it , but that would’ve been a damn lie. She deserved all the comfort in the world, and I hadn’t given it to her. She’d been shaking, quiet, in shock. I’d hurt her, badly, and then I’d left her alone.
Bile rose in my throat. I moved to hang up the phone, but my brother spoke.
“Wait one second. You don’t really think she doesn’t deserve it, Yacob,” he said, because the fucker was basically a mindreader. “If you did, you’d have to be a fucking fool, and you’re no fool. Get off the phone with me and go fix whatever you fucked up.”
“Goodnight,” Luke, their other partner, called.
Micah sighed. “We’re going to try to make it to one of your games this season. Have some jobs to complete, but I’ll let you know when. Marcus is coming, too.”
“Whatever.” I couldn’t admit to the hope that bubbled up. I could trust Micah and Marcus when it came to advice, but not much else. I doubted they’d actually show. They hadn’t been there for me in the years I’d actually needed them. That had been Coach.
Who Aviva was still trying to destroy.
That poor girl does not deserve this.
I pressed end without saying goodbye.
Stretching, I pocketed the phone and wandered down the hallway, picking up Aviva’s clothes from the dining room. The house was quiet; everyone had gone to sleep.
Another woman would have broken.
Had I gone too far? Aviva was strong, remarkably so—she’d proven it tonight when she’d still stood her own against me. But even the strongest tree could crack if lightning hit it right. Was Judah right? Had I broken her?
And who was I, to be so confused, so torn? Not Jack Feldman, that was for sure.
Stopping in the kitchen, I heated up some water and made hot chocolate. Aftercare involved chocolate, right? A little late, but still seemed like it would help. I was both anticipating and dreading what would happen when I got back up to my room.
Once I was upstairs, I entered the code, slowly opening the door, expecting anything. More screaming, more crying, maybe projectiles thrown in my direction.
Nothing. The quiet was punctuated by soft breathing from the bed. I made my way over, switching on the flashlight on my phone so I didn’t trip over anything.
Aviva was asleep on the bed above the covers, curled into a protective ball, pillow between her thick, beautiful thighs, brown curls covering her soft, heart-shaped face. Gently, carefully, I moved her hair off her face. Even in sleep, she seemed troubled, eyes moving under eyelids as if she were having a nightmare.
“No,” she begged, “No. Don’t look, please.”
“Aviva? Princess, are you awake?”
She didn’t respond.
She was dreaming. Was it about me? Was the nightmare because of what I’d done to her?
Guilt returned. I set the hot chocolate on the nightstand, stripping down to my boxers before climbing into bed behind her. I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her back against my chest. Immediately, I relaxed. I’d never slept with a woman in my arms before, but I didn’t hate it.
Not at all .
“You’re okay,” I murmured as I leaned over her and stroked her hair. “You’re okay.”
Slowly, she relaxed, her face smoothing out. I released her waist to remove the pillow between her thighs, replacing it with my leg. Truly tangled together, and satisfied in ways I couldn’t fully explain, I soaked up the feeling of her in my arms, shutting my eyes and picturing a life where this was every night for me.
When you realize, you don’t let go. No matter what.
I might not trust her, I might not like her, but I was obsessed with her.
And she deserved better. She was stuck with me, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t treat her better.
“You aren’t going anywhere, little thief,” I murmured into her hair. “But I am sorry.”
She’d stolen something from me, something I couldn’t entirely describe. My control? My equilibrium? Something worse? Maybe we were even now, since I was stealing her, but it didn’t matter.
She’d pay. Forever, if I had a say.
But then why did I regret what I’d done?
I closed my eyes, but as good as holding Aviva felt, sleep wouldn’t come. Guilt and fear had run off with it. Because what if Isaac, Judah, and Levi were right? What if Micah was? Had I pushed her too far? Was I going to lose her? Had I lost her already?