Chapter 3
THREE
Asia
Through the tears of laughter that gathered at the corners of my eyes, I watched him.
He stared back at me like I’d shot him. My nostrils flared as I huffed out a breath, watching the candle flicker like it gauged my mood.
That wasn’t quite right. He didn’t look at me like I shot him.
He could have handled that.
Stabbing, too.
No, he looked at me like I betrayed him.
Like I had betrayed him.
I laughed louder, harder. Stopped almost as quickly as I started.
Curled my toes against the cold hardwood floor but decided not to take the time to put on socks.
I kept my eyes straight ahead as I fled the room and made my way to the downstairs bathroom. My steps were muffled, a skill I’d finally managed to master, and my skin tingled with anticipation of the shower.
We didn’t have the hot water to waste, but I couldn’t bring myself to give a fuck.
The hallway was pitch black, so I blinked against the sudden light when I clicked on the camping lantern. It barely illuminated the space and cast freaky shadows throughout the room.
But I wasn’t worried about monsters in the dark.
Not anymore.
In fact, even with the shitty lighting and my ice-cold feet, I loved this room.
Uncle Levi agreed to renovate it as long as Aunt Kathleen let him decorate.
And every time I saw the wallpaper with interlocking elk on a hunter-green background and the elk horn mirror, I couldn’t help but smile.
This silly little bathroom made me feel safe, even though I should have known safety was a stupid, deadly lie.
“Suck it, municipal water authority,” I whispered when I twisted the knob and the water came out hot in an instant.
That water at my fancy condo with a six-digit price tag had taken ages to warm up. I had hot water on demand now. So what if I let myself get knocked up during a zombie fucking apocalypse? Who cared that I traded my body, my dignity, my heart—
Nope.
I ruthlessly cut that thought off and stepped into the claw foot tub and let the precious hot water rain down on me. It was almost scalding, and burned away the tension in my muscles.
As I stood there, I searched for relief that I knew wasn’t going to come.
He thinks I betrayed him.
What a mind fuck.
I’d told him about Bridget, and he was the only person I had ever uttered those words to.
The others knew.
Of course they knew.
But they swallowed down the weak lies I’d sloppily fed them and damn near asked for seconds.
Maybe they were afraid of me.
Or maybe they, like me, knew that this world meant compromise. I’d learned that lesson the hard way, but learn it I had.
I picked up the soap from the edge of the tub and held the thin bar tight, the strong scent hitting me in the chest.
Another petty torture I couldn’t stop myself from indulging. I had been so happy when Jack gave me that soap. I should have thrown it all away, but I’d held on, used these few precious moments in the shower to indulge that scent and my memories of Jack.
Memories I cherished, even though he left me.
He made it clear that Evan was his priority. Evan should have been his priority.
Evan was family.
I was…
What was I? The person he was trapped with? The woman who would give birth to his child? A fucking murderer?
Yes, I was those things, but that was my shit to deal with.
Jack owed me nothing. And I would die before I asked him anything.
I thought back to that night, as I dragged Bridget’s lifeless body, surprisingly heavy for such a slight woman, into the field.
How I dug that shallow grave, the hard ground fighting me in a way Bridget hadn’t, the skin on my palms cracking from the rough handle of the shovel.
How torn I was between hoping someone—hoping he—would find me and praying no one would.
I’d needed him.
Wanted him.
And he hadn’t been there.
So I had been left alone to dig the hole, drop Bridget in it, and cover her up.
I’d done that by myself.
Hated myself for that and because I couldn’t hate her.
Stupid really, because when did feelings ever matter? When did they change what needed to be done?
It hurt, but I did it anyway.
Proved again that I was the only person I could count on.
Jack deciding to parachute back in didn’t change things one bit.
I rinsed off the soap and frowned when a cool breeze filled the bathroom.
“I’m in here,” I called, trying not to sound annoyed.
I saw the looming figure through the fogged shower curtain and knew it was him.
“I’ll be done in a minute, Jack,” I said, impressed that I managed to sound almost normal.
Thud.
Thud.
The sound of Jack’s boots hitting the ancient linoleum followed by the familiar jingle of his belt.
What kind of asshole put on boots to go to the bathroom?
Jack, that was what kind.
I shook my head, trying to focus on what was important. I grabbed the curtain and peeked out, hiding my body as best I could behind a plastic shower curtain.
“I said I’d be out in a minute,” I said.
Jack held my gaze, but continued to undress.
“Jack, what are you—”
The tub wasn’t big enough for both of us. That was my first stupid thought as his body filled the space, the water hitting his chest and spraying off him onto me.
“Get out,” I said.
He didn’t.
He put his hands on the tile wall on either side of my head, caging me the way he always did, his body close enough that I felt his heat through the water.
His cock was hard, thick, pressed against my thigh, and I hated—hated—the way my body responded.
The low clench between my legs instant and involuntary.
My traitorous fucking body would always crave him.
I didn’t have to like it.
And he didn’t have to know it.
I locked my eyes on him. “I said get out.”
“No.”
One word.
Low.
Final.
This motherfucker!
My breath came out hard as I curled my hand into a fist.
I imagined slamming it against his face, clawing at his eyes, screaming at him until my throat was raw, knowing that my punches, my words, would never hurt him as badly as he hurt me.
I should have stayed quiet, shouldn’t have given him the gift of my emotions. “I fucking hate you.” The words came out a low hiss, barely audible over the shower.
But he heard them.
And he smiled.
Then he kissed me, his lips warm and firm yet gentle against mine.
And then my face was pressed against the cold shower tiles as Jack prodded at my pussy with the broad head of his cock.
I opened for him on instinct, my thighs widening before I processed the thought.
He huffed a little laugh in my ear.
“Fuck you, Jac—”
My words fell into a strangled moan as he thrust inside me so hard my face smashed against the tile.
He gripped my hips and shifted me, holding me open as he pummeled my pussy like he hated me as much as I hated him.
More even.
I was loose from earlier, a good thing too because Jack fucked me like he wanted to rip me in half. I tried to turn my head but was stilled by his hand pressing my face against the shower stall.
I couldn’t move, wouldn’t speak, so I took what he gave me—took what I dreamed of in the deep dark—and was thankful that the shower hid my tears.
Bit my lip to hold back my moans. It worked too, until Jack tightened his grip, and drove into me with hard, sharp thrusts sent me hurtling towards a climax like I hadn’t already come twice.
“Oh God…”
Jack licked the shell of my ear. “You like it?” he said, each word followed by a sharp thrust that made me see stars.
I said nothing and just focused on the feeling, the water pelting over me, colder now, not that I cared. Jack’s hard body, behind me, over me, inside me. The way my pussy trembled around him, the delicious tickle of his sac smacking my clit with every rock of his hips.
The—
Nothing.
I blinked, looking back at him, disoriented by how empty I felt.
His face was inches from mine, his eyes blazing. With anger, yes, but with something else. Something I didn’t have the will to try to interpret.
I looked away, my neck burning with the shame of it, but the shame I could handle. Looking at him too much longer, though…
“What was that, Jack?” I whispered, brows knitted, face pressed against the shower wall again like it protected me.
Like anything could.
He laughed, the low rumble in his chest vibrating through my body. “Not so nice is it?”
I huffed, rolled my eyes. “So what, now I’m supposed to beg for your cock, beg you to let me come?”
“I don’t give a fuck if you beg, and I don’t give a fuck if you come. I was your fuck toy. Now you’re mine.”
His next thrust pushed the air out of my lungs.
The next three after had me gripping the cold, slick wall, searching for any purchase.
I reached for something, for anything, to steady me in Jack’s onslaught.
But there was only him. I held his forearm, feeling the play of muscles under my palm as he fucked me, the sounds of the water drowned out by his deep groans and the lewd smack of his balls against my ass.
His forearm tightened, and he came on a strangled-out moan, his stone-solid cock pulsing inside me as he emptied what felt like gallons of cum.
I slammed my eyes shut, trying to push away the sensation, but his breath at my neck, his forearm in my grip, his cum splashing my cervix sent me over the edge.
I clamped down on him, biting my lip until I tasted blood as I rode out the orgasm.
He felt it.
He had to feel.
And if I had ever doubted that Jack knew how pathetic I was, he knew it now. Had physical proof in the way I whimpered as I came, in the way my hips rocked a rhythmless rhythm as I spasmed around him.
I wanted to climb through the wall, fall through the pipes, be absolutely anywhere but here with him and my weakness. But there was no escaping myself. That didn’t mean I had to give in.
When my heart slowed, I let go of Jack’s forearm and rested my forehead against the wall. I hadn’t planned on detangling my hair tonight, but getting fucked like a two-dollar whore by the man who had betrayed me was as good a reason as any.
First things first, though.
“Don’t come in me again, Jack,” I said.
The fact that he was still buried inside me, the implications of the word again, didn’t put me in the strongest position, but I’d roll with it.
“Why not?” he asked like that fucking mattered.
I scoffed. “You know what, you’re right. The damage is done. No reason I can’t be a cum dumpster, too.”
Jack leaned in, his broad shoulders pressing me against the wall, his lips at my ear. “Not a cum dumpster. My cum dumpster.” His cock jerked, and I squirmed, trying my hardest to pretend I wasn’t getting wet again.
Jack stilled and then slipped out of me. I said nothing, telling myself I was unaffected by the sudden emptiness, that the mix of his cum and mine wetting my thighs didn’t make me want to beg for him to fuck me again.
He didn’t move. In fact, he got closer. Wrapped his arms around my waist.
God, how I wanted to sink into him, rest against him, trust him to hold me up.
I stayed stock-still, wondering what I would do if Jack pressed.
But he didn’t.
He just kept his arms there, not holding me, not trapping me. Just there.
At least until he leaned closer.
Kissed my cheek.
Whispered in my ear.
“I had to go.”
Jack
I stayed there, the sting of the now-cold water on my skin reminding me that this was real.
“Of course you had to go.” Her voice was quiet, understanding, reasonable in a way that made me want to put my fist through the wall.
She pushed my arms off her body and stepped out of the shower. I shut off the water but stood there, watching as she massaged lotion into her skin.
I should have kept my mouth closed, but I needed her to understand. Needed her to believe. She shifted, looking towards my face, but not really at it, her gaze somewhere between my neck and chest.
“Is Evan dea—”
I shook my head, and she gave me a smile, a real one, one that cracked through my chest.
“He’s not. I don’t have any evidence, but I believe that.” I couldn’t help but remember my earlier words to Miles.
“He’s alive,” she whispered, her voice solid and certain in a way I envied. She swallowed. Exhaled. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Jack.”
There was that voice again, the reasonable one that simultaneously let me off the hook and indicted me more than her curses ever would.
“That all you have to say to me?”
“What do you want me to do? Cry? Scream? Curse your name? Do something else?” She pulled a long shirt over her head as she scoffed.
“You don’t always have to be so fucking reasonable all the time,” I snapped.
Asia didn’t take the bait.
“What? Would you prefer I raged at you for taking care of the people you love? What kind of hypocrite would that make me? You made the choices you needed to make for the people you made them for. I can’t be angry with you for that.”
“Asia—” I stared at her, searching her face for something. For anything.
“It’s late. I need to get some rest. Early day tomorrow, like every day.” She clicked off the lantern. “And you should go see Uncle Levi,” she said into the darkness.
Perfectly reasonable.
I stood there naked, the persistent drip, drip, drip filling my ears.