16
Poppy
Iwake up, stretching my arms over my head. Right away, a pain shoots through my stomach, and I wince. I’m hoping the bruises will begin to be less sore by tomorrow and I’ll start feeling better.
After calling Ryann, Lana, and Jake last night, I passed out. And besides Walker breaking into the room at some point to basically force Tylenol and Motrin down my throat, I was dead to the world.
I guess the events of the past few days finally caught up to me. And I slept.
A lot.
The left side of the bed is perfectly made, and I can’t help but wonder where Walker slept last night. But it obviously wasn’t next to me. This is nice because, according to Ryann, who shares the room next to mine, I cry in my sleep sometimes. And I really don’t want to risk Walker seeing that.
Slowly, I scooch my ass to the side of the bed and stand up. Day two of looking like a battered wife, and I think I feel worse today than yesterday. But maybe that means I’m healing.
Heading into the bathroom, I see a purple toothbrush still in the package, and I know Walker put it here for me. After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I head out to the main area. Only he isn’t out here. In fact, the only sign he’s been here at all is the folded-up blanket and pillow on the couch. But when I walk into the kitchen, I see a note on the counter with Walker’s scribbly handwriting.
P,
I had to leave early for practice and class, but I’ll be back soon. Order room service for breakfast—the menu is right under this note. Don’t even think about not eating. You skipped dinner last night. They have your favorite, Belgian waffles.
Oh, and, yes, you still snore. Even from the couch, I could hear you. Thinking about investing in some earmuffs.
—W
P.S. Please look at the picture below. That’s Hudson, the security guard we talked about. Please make sure that if someone knocks on the door, it’s him. Don’t open it for anyone else.
P.P.S. I’m fucking serious, Pop.
I can’t stop smiling when I read his note. I feel guilty as hell about ordering room service though. Especially because everything on the menu is probably expensive as hell. But I know Walker, and if I don’t eat, he’ll be pissed. So, I decide I am going to order some waffles and a coffee, but I’m going to jot down the total cost on paper so that I can pay him back once I get my next paycheck.
Speaking of paychecks, I never called the café.
My next shift isn’t for a few days, but I know even by then, my face will still look like this. Plus, the thought of working there and walking home after the attack…makes me feel sick.
I’ll call my boss later tonight to explain that I need the rest of the week off. I know he’ll understand if I say I have family matters to attend to.
Picking up the room phone, I hit the button for the restaurant and order myself some Belgian waffles and a coffee. As if my stomach can hear my voice, it rumbles embarrassingly loud, likely reminding me it’s time to eat. I consider ordering two plates of waffles but decide that’d be a bit much and stick to one.
Twenty minutes later, I hear a knock at the door, and when I rush over to open it, I see a large, tattooed man grabbing the cart from another man dressed in a chef’s coat.
“I’ll be taking this to Miss Wilson,” the tattooed man says.
I should say, the hot, tall, tattooed man.
The server looks incredibly confused, and I’m internally telling myself I failed my first test because I didn’t do the one thing Walker wanted me to do. Check the damn peephole to make sure it’s Hudson before opening. All I was thinking about was waffles and coffee, and I threw that bitch open without so much as wondering about who was on the other side of it.
Oh well. If he asks, I’ll lie and say I checked first. He’ll never know.
Giving the server a nod, I smile. “It’s okay. You can go.”
He holds my gaze awkwardly for a moment, and suddenly, Hudson reaches into his pocket, grabs some cash, and hands it to him. Graciously, he takes it.
“Thank you, sir,” he says and quickly leaves.
My entire neck and face burn with shame. Of course you’re supposed to tip them when they drop food off, you dumbass.
I want to crawl into a hole and hide. But how the hell am I supposed to know this type of shit? The fanciest place I’ve ever been is the Olive Garden. And that was because Ryann insisted we take Lana there for her birthday.
Holding the door open, I look Hudson up and down. And then it hits me. I’ve seen him before when I had to use Ryann’s car and pick her up from work. He works at the strip club. Ryann’s always saying that all the girls who work there have the biggest crush on him. And even though he does nothing for me because of my stupid, Walker-obsessed brain…this guy is hot.
He pushes the cart into my room, and I follow him, shifting uncomfortably on my feet.
“Does Ryann know where you are?” his deep voice asks, pulling the cover from my waffles and carrying it to the table, along with my coffee.
He recognizes me. I didn’t know if he would because our interaction was so short.
Grabbing a few napkins, I head to the table. “No. And I’d like to keep it that way.”
“Hey, not my business to tell.” He steps back before heading toward the door. Every step he takes screams swagger. “Oh, and, Poppy?”
“Yeah?” I mutter, taking a seat as my mouth waters when the sweet scent of waffles, strawberries, and whipped cream hits my nostrils.
“Next time, check the damn peephole before yanking the door open.” He looks back at me. “Yeah?”
Rolling my eyes, I blow out a sigh. “Yeah…okay.”
“Thanks,” he says, making a clicking noise with his tongue. “If you need anything, Walker added my number to your phone. Don’t come in the hallway. Just call.”
“Okay, okay,” I whisper. “So dramatic he is.”
“Well, I mean…his girl got the shit beaten out of her by two thugs less than forty-eight hours ago. Dude’s got a reason to be dramatic,” he deadpans.
And then he’s gone.
Leaving me to ponder two words he said.
His girl.
He thinks I’m Walker’s girl.
And I could have corrected him, but I didn’t. Because maybe…I liked being called that.
*********
Walker
I walk into the hotel with the two big bags in my hand. I could have gone to Poppy’s house and picked some of her own shit out, but—let’s be honest—the girl could probably use some new clothes. Besides, she doesn’t want anyone to know what’s really going on, and I’m pretty sure my rolling in there, rifling through her drawers like a perv, might come off as a red flag.
I wanted to get her comfy stuff because, for the next few days, her bruises will be healing, and I want to make everything easier for her right now.
I also picked up a formfitting black dress. Because apparently, this place has a fancy restaurant, and I’m going to have Hudson stand guard outside one night while I take her down for a nice dinner. Once she’s feeling well enough, of course.
I know that I can’t be with Poppy forever, so this next week…I’m going to make sure that whatever she wants, she gets.
I hit the button to open the elevator doors, and I step inside.
Hudson’s kept me updated the entire day, but aside from her breakfast order this morning, he says she hasn’t contacted him or room service.
It’s after two in the afternoon, and she should have ordered lunch by now.
Getting off on floor twelve, I text Hudson, letting him know I’m back in case he wants to step out for a while, and I head into the room. Unsure of what version of Poppy I’ll find today.
Sweet Poppy, who looks at me like I’m her hero. Sexy Poppy, who demands me to fuck her. Or sassy Poppy, who mouths off and rolls her eyes every five minutes.
Or maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll get a mix of all three.
Sweeping my eyes over the kitchen and living room, I set the bags on the table and rush toward the bedroom.
“Poppy?” I call out.
No fucking answer.
The bedroom door is open, so I walk in. And again, no Poppy. The bathroom door is closed, but I don’t hear the sound of the shower running.
Putting my fist to it, I knock a few times. “Poppy?”
Still, no answer.
I don’t want to invade her privacy, but she could be there…hurt. Or worse, what if she hurt herself? Her life has been complete fucking trash lately. Who the hell knows what’s going on inside that beautiful yet fucked up mind of hers?
“If you don’t open the door on the count of three, I’m breaking it.”
As I start to count, I take a card from my pocket. This place is swanky as fuck; I’m not going to break their door down if I can just jimmy the damn thing.
“One…two…three,” I say slowly.
And when the door remains closed, I jam the card in again, wiggling it around until it unlocks.
Stepping inside, I suck in a breath at the sight of her. Earbuds in, bubbles covering all but her face, and eyes closed. She doesn’t sing, but hums low, gently bobbing her head.
I should leave her alone. She looks so relaxed. But, Christ, I can’t pull my eyes away from her. I can’t even see her gorgeous body, and I’m still fixated on her.
Strands of loose hair frizz around her face from the humidity from the steam. She doesn’t have an ounce of makeup covering her bruises, and her split lip is starting to heal.
She’s so beautiful. But so fucking broken. And all I want to do is be the one to put her back together.
Only I can’t.
When her eyes flutter open, they widen for a second before she screams. Ripping the earbuds out, she takes her hand and splashes a blob of water and bubbles at me.
“Get out! You creep!” she screeches. “Get out! Get out!”
“I can’t even see your fucking body, Poppy,” I holler back. “And even if I could, I’ve fucking seen it before!”
When she sinks further into the water, shooting me a glare, I smirk.
“Do you not remember when my face was buried between your thighs and I was eating your pussy like a fucking ice cream sundae?”
“You’re annoying!” she hisses. “No girl, especially one who’s been attacked two freaking days ago, wants to be in the tub, thinking they are allllll alone, and then realize that someone is looking at them.” She gives me an annoyed look. “Even if we did…you know…the other day. Still, it’s weird.”
I instantly feel really fucking bad. “Sorry,” I mutter. “I…I just didn’t know where you were. And then when I yelled, you didn’t answer.” I shrug, dragging my hand up the back of my neck to the top of my head. “I got worried. I wasn’t trying to creep you out.” Turning, I take a step toward the door. “I got you some clothes. I’ll put them on the bed for when you get out.”
“Walker,” she says softly.
I don’t turn around. Instead, I just stop. “Yeah?”
“I don’t think you’re creepy. I’m just…overly sensitive, I guess. And, well, bitchy.” She sighs. “But you already knew that last part.”
I swallow, inhaling sharply. Of course she’s overly sensitive right now. And how fucking dumb am I to be so inconsiderate of that?
“No worries. I’ll, uh, try to be better.”
Walking out of the bathroom, I close the door behind me.
*********
Poppy
Looking in the mirror, I run the brush that magically appeared in the bedroom through my hair and glance at the new loungewear Walker picked up.
Six sets of new pajamas and loungewear outfits. A bunch of black leggings. A Wolves crewneck sweatshirt—my size. And lying on the bed is a gorgeous black dress and a pair of simple black heels. Oh, and every pair of panties I could think of, as well as a few new bras.
How he got the sizes right on everything, I have no freaking clue.
I go with the gray-and-white striped lounge pants, which are as soft as a feather, and a matching tank top. After looking like a slob for a few days, I’m still in pajamas, but at least my clothes and I are clean.
He got all of this for me, and I called the guy a creep.
I feel awful for what I said. It just … came out.
When I opened my eyes, at first, my vision was a little blurry, and I just made out a figure. I panicked, and even once I realized it was Walker, I was a complete bitch.
Walking out of the bedroom, I find him on the couch, flipping through the channels mindlessly. And when I take a seat at the other end of the couch, he doesn’t look my way.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, his gaze fixed on the screen.
“I feel okay. The bath felt nice.” His mouth opens to speak, so I stop him. “And before you ask, no, I didn’t let the cut on my face get too wet.”
“Good.” He nods, stopping the TV on a cooking show. “Every time I see a show like this, it reminds me of Van.” There’s a sadness in his voice that can’t be mistaken, and even his eyes seem to glass over a bit. “I hope he’s somewhere in heaven, running his own restaurant.”
A lump lodges in my throat, burning and making my eyes water. Though I’m pretty sure the real reason my eyes are watering is because I’m trying to fight off crying again. I cried so hard the night Van died. It was the first time in years, and I felt everything.
I’m not ready to feel things that deep again. It was horrific. And exhausting.
And it made me feel weak.
But right now, I’m having a hard time fighting it. Because I’m seeing Walker. Really seeing him. And what I see is a man who’s in pain.
Just like me.
“Yeah, me too,” my voice squeaks. “I wish he could have done it in real life though.”
He looks down, his head hanging. “Yeah, me too.” He sniffs. “I should have never left him. I shouldn’t have been so selfish.” His chest heaves. “I’m so fucking sorry, Poppy. I … I didn’t know what else to do.”
Walker didn’t fall apart the night that Van died. I did, and he glued me together, ragged edges and all. And he didn’t fall apart when we sprinkled his ashes.
But right now, he’s going to fall apart.
“I saw him,” he whispers. “Just days before he died. I saw him.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, he squeezes his eyes shut. “He wasn’t the Van I’d known my entire life. But still, I could have hugged him. I could have fucking dragged him away from the trailer and forced him to get help.”
I watch a tear and then another run down his cheeks.
“Instead, I didn’t do a fucking thing. And now, he’s dead. He’s fucking dead.” He glances at me for a split second, grimacing. “He’s dead, and you were attacked.” He stops, and I can feel his sadness. “All I do is fail you, Poppy.”
It’s like seeing my best friend again. Like he never left me. Or us. And suddenly, I’m in his lap. My body might hurt, but I don’t care because my bruises aren’t nearly as deep or painful as the history between us.
Cupping his face, I force him to look up at me. “It’s okay, Walker. I know I’ve said things, but the truth is, it wasn’t your job to keep him safe.” I swallow. “It wasn’t mine either.” I dip my forehead closer to his. “I understand the guilt. Trust me, I do. The last time I saw my brother … I …” I pause, my voice cutting out. “I called him a loser. I told him he was just like our dad.” My lip trembles. “I’d give anything to take that back. To not let that be the last words I spoke.”
Bringing my lips closer to his, I look him in the eyes. “He forgives you. I know he does.”
“But do you, Poppy?” he croaks. “Do you forgive me?”
I feel my heart stop, but gently, I nod. “Yes,” I whisper against his lips. “Do you forgive me?”
“You’ve done nothing that needs to be forgiven,” he utters. “I’m just sorry it took me so long to understand that.” He swallows. “I needed someone to blame. And I guess … you were that person.”
Something has been weighing heavy on my mind since I first heard about whatever deal he made with his uncle.
“I want to move on from the past, but you’re keeping secrets,” I whisper. “I need to know what deal you made to keep me safe.” Gently, I press my lips to his. “Please, Walker, talk to me.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he whispers. “You’ll be better off without me anyway, Poppy.” He brushes my uninjured cheek. “You can do anything you set your mind to. I hope you know that.”
“Talk to me,” I plead, my eyes blurring with tears.
He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, and I pull back enough to look down at him, still straddling his lap.
“There’s this family in Italy. Two brothers, both very powerful and very rich.” He stops, blowing out every ounce of air from his lungs, it seems. “One has a son. The other, a daughter.” He swallows, making his Adam’s apple bob.
The silence in the room is suffocating, and I hold my breath, waiting for his next words.
“Briar is engaged to the son. And I … well, soon, I’m going to be engaged to the brother’s daughter.” He looks down. “It was the only way I knew you’d be safe. My uncle has resources. And a lot of money. And a shit ton of connections. But everything, Poppy—every single thing when it comes to that man—has a price.”
As quickly as my body will allow me to, I scurry from his lap. Backing up to the wall, I rake my hands down my hair. The swelling from having my hair yanked hurts, but nothing like this news does.
“Walker,” I croak, “how could you make a deal like that? You’re here with me. Buying me clothes, making sure I take my meds. And what? You’re going to marry someone else?” I sob, holding my chest. “All to … what? Keep me safe?”
When he stands, slowly walking toward me, I suck in a shaky breath.
“I’d rather be in danger than ever see the day you marry someone else.” I say the words I’ve felt my entire life. “I have loved you forever, Walker. How could you do this?”
I can’t breathe. My chest is burning, and I feel like someone is squeezing my lungs, clenching their hold tighter and tighter.
“Because I’ve fucking loved you forever too, Poppy. And not as a friend,” he growls, and my heart pumps harder before squeezing. “I couldn’t take the chance of something else bad happening.” He throws his arms around my waist. “Not to you.”
When I look up at him, it’s like a thousand memories flash through my mind. All of him and me. Back when, even though life sucked … it didn’t seem impossible, not like it does right now. I’m losing him again. But this time, it’s for good. It’s forever.
He’s going to marry someone. Someone who isn’t me.
“I can’t be here.” I crash my hands into his chest before slipping out of his hold. “Just go. Call it off. Let me leave.”
As I march into the kitchen, he rushes in front of me, blocking the door. “You’re not fucking leaving, Poppyseed. We’re in this now. It’s a done deal.”
“So, what?” I cry like a pathetic idiot. “We just spend the next week pretending like everything isn’t about to change? Like … any of it is going to matter once we leave this hotel?”
“If the most I get with you in this life is this week, Poppy, then I’ll take it,” he utters. “Will it make it harder to leave? Yeah. Will it hurt you more than help? Probably.” He reaches for me, gently touching my chin. “But I’m being a selfish prick right now because all I want is you.”
All at once, I lurch toward him, my lips on his. The second my cut stings is the same time he pulls back.
“You’re too hurt for that, Poppy.”
I grimace. “It’s because of how I look, isn’t it? I wouldn’t want to do anything with me either.”
I start to back away, but he stops me.
“You’re fucking beautiful. And just looking at you, bruises or not, makes my cock hard. Every. Single. Time. And I mean that with everything that I am.” He looks pained. “But you’re still hurt. And I don’t want to do anything that’ll cause you pain.”
The way he’s looking at me right now, I see it. He really does think I’m beautiful. And his eyes eat me up in a way I’ve never felt. Despite how scary I look, he wants me still. And that means so much.
Sliding my palm under his shirt, I rest it just under the band of his briefs. “Let me decide what I’m too hurt for, okay? I can take a lot of pain.”
“Poppy,” he rasps, “this will be twice now that you’ve been in pain and I’ve fucked you to make it better.” He gives his head a slight shake. “It can’t fix anything. You know that.”
Moving my hand lower, I feel the bulge through his jeans, and I gently massage it before dropping to my knees. Reaching up, I unbutton his jeans and pull them down enough for his hard cock to spring free. My lip might be busted up, but I don’t care. Right now, all I want to do is make him realize that there will never be another Walker and Poppy. I want to make him realize how much he’ll miss me when he’s gone. How much he’ll miss us.
“You don’t have to do that, baby,” he groans low. “Your lips … they’re—”
“My lips are eager to suck your dick,” I hiss, loving the pure shock I see in his eyes as his pupils dilate. “Now, be a good boy and let me do that.”
I’ve never done anything like this before. And to be honest, I’m terrified that I’m not going to be good at it. And his soon-to-be wife … she will be.
God, I can’t think about that right now.
Reaching for his thighs, I give him a shove until his back is up against the door. I open my lips and spring up on my knees enough to welcome him inside. The second my tongue touches his flesh, his hips buck toward my face, and he hisses.
I take him deeper, opening my throat as much as I can and letting him slide across my tongue. Closing my lips around him, I bob back and forth, angling my head upward to look him in the eyes just before moaning around his length.
“Jesus Christ,” he growls. “Feels so fucking good.”
Cupping my tongue, I work my way down his dick before flicking my tip around his head.
His hips buck again at the same time I try to take him deep, and he hits the back of my throat. I gag but keep him inside of my mouth.
“Fuck, baby … I’m going to—” he hisses.
I quickly move my lips up and down his wet cock, craving to bring him to his finish. He hisses a slew of curses as his hips jerk up and back. The taste of salt hits my throat, and I force myself to not flinch.
“Look at me while you’re swallowing my cum,” he snaps, barely choking the words out.
Staring up at him, I focus on my breathing as panic builds in my chest. I don’t want to disappoint him by not finishing him off the way I want to. So, I refuse to do that, and I relax my throat.
“Swallow,” he utters, his eyes rolling back as the last bit spills from his head.
Gazing at me again, he stares at my throat as I work to swallow down the rest of him, never taking his cock from my mouth.
I run my tongue around him once more, and his mouth hangs open as he moans.
“Fucking A, baby. You even licked me clean.” He reaches down, brushing his thumb under my chin. “Such a good fucking girl for me.”
Slowly, I release him and push myself to stand. Looking down bashfully, I chew my bottom lip. “Was that … okay? I can learn to be better … you know.”
“The fact that it was your first fucking time sucking dick, and it was the best head I’ve ever had … Jesus Christ, Poppy.” He gently swipes his thumb over the side of my lip that’s not cut. “This mouth was made to take my cock.” As he slides his hand to my neck, his eyes darken. “And this throat … to swallow my cum.”
My legs are shaky, and I didn’t even orgasm. But the pain that I’ve been accustomed to since the attack has somehow disappeared, and all that is left behind is a throbbing between my legs and a sting on my bottom lip.
“I bet you’re fucking dripping, baby,” he utters, sliding his hands to my waist. “I bet sucking my dick has that pussy of yours soaked.”
“Y-yes,” I breathe out.
“I don’t want to hurt you. You’re still healing. So, if anything is too much, you’re going to have to tell me, okay?” he says, sliding one hand to my ass and giving it a squeeze.
He gazes at my chest, and already, his length hardens, standing out straight.
“Hmmm … do I want to bury my face between these thighs? Or do I want to drive my cock so deep inside of you that you scream?”
Gently, he spins me around so that his erection is pressing into my ass, and he marches me to the couch. As he pushes me forward, I feel my bottoms being pulled down, and he palms my asscheek.
“No panties, huh?” he mutters into my ear. “It’s like you were just waiting to take my dick, weren’t you?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Tell me, Poppy, did you think of me in that bathtub?”
I should blush, but I’m far too turned on to even care. The truth is, I did think of him. I turned my music on, and I imagined all the things we could do in this penthouse. But afraid that he’d barge in, I didn’t dare to take it further than that.
“No,” I lie, craning my neck to look at him.
“Don’t lie. You fucking slid your hand between your legs, and you imagined it was my fingers slipping into this tight pussy.” He drags his hand up my inner thigh, brushing my heat, but not pushing his fingers inside of me.
“How many times, Poppyseed?” he grumbles. “How many times over the last three-plus years have you fucked yourself with your hand, just picturing me?”
With my ass still to his front, he leans forward and kisses my neck. “How fucking many?” he growls.
“So many,” my voice croaks as he pulls my shirt over my head, leaving me completely naked. “Did you …” I swallow, looking down.
“Did I think of you?” he mutters into my ear. “Baby, I’ve covered my hand in cum, imagining it was your pussy, more times than I can count. I’ve also pictured you sucking my cock the way you just did. Or riding my dick with that sweet ass slapping against my balls while these perky tits bounced for me.”
My mouth hangs open, and I moan just as he drops to his knees behind me and spreads my legs further apart before his tongue is inside of me. Unable to keep myself completely upright, I press my body into the couch, and I whimper as he buries his face deeper. My hips instinctively rock back against his face, and his hand reaches around the front of me, brushing his thumb against what I’ve realized is my most sensitive spot while his tongue continues to work me over.
It feels so damn good. Too good. Everything in my brain melts away, and all I can focus on is the amount of pleasure my body is feeling in this moment. I’m at his mercy, so close to coming undone. All for him and what he does to me. But before I cross that finish line, he’s pushing to his feet, and he moves me to the window.
Even though I know it’s blacked out from the outside world, I can’t stop my heart from racing when I imagine the people who could be below.
I feel his growing cock press against my ass.
“I know you’re sore, baby. You’re healing. So, the last thing I want to do is make it worse,” he mutters into my ear.
“Take me,” I whisper, craning my head to glance at him. “The first time, you were so scared to hurt me because it was my first time. And I … I wasn’t in my right mind.” I push back slightly, enough so that his length presses into me harder. “Take me, Walker. And don’t hold back. I want all of you.”
“Fuck … me,” he growls before pressing his body to mine, forcing me against the window.
The sting from the bumps and bruises on my body is quickly diminished when he parts my legs and works the head of his dick inside of me.
“Jesus, your pussy is so fucking tight. It practically sucks my cock in and holds it prisoner,” he groans, pushing more of himself inside of me, inch by inch, until I feel so full that I could combust. “And, baby, I’d like to fucking stay here forever. Just like this. Buried inside of you, feeling you squeezing around me.”
It hurts, but it’s not the bad kind of pain that I’m used to. This pain is welcome. This pain feels like … living.
Before I know it, he takes a few steps back, bringing me with him before he pushes my head forward. Instinctively, I bend over, grabbing the windowsill and arching my back and bringing my ass up to meet his thrust.
Every time he pumps in and out, it hurts a little less. And not long after, we’re working in a rhythm.
“Goddamn, you’re fucking soaked,” he growls. “You’re just about dripping down my thighs, baby. Coating my dick and making me want to come inside of you right now.”
“Walker—” My voice breaks when, all at once, my orgasm hits me, and the edges of my vision start to fade to black, making it hard for me to keep hold of the window. “Oh fuck,” I cry out, almost screaming as my body starts to fall forward, but he keeps me still, coming inside of me abruptly.
“Fucking A, I love how your greedy pussy feels while I fucking spill my cum inside of it,” he bellows. “Taking every ounce like a good girl and my little whore.”
My legs are shaky as his body jerks forward a few more times. And when he kisses my shoulder before slowly pulling out of me, I suck in a few shaky breaths and hide the wince coming from my abdomen, proving that I really, really overdid it.
Turning me to face him, he cups my cheek and kisses me. “You’re fucking killing me, Poppyseed. Ruining me for anyone else.”
I freeze, looking at his disheveled hair and his rising chest as he tries to catch his breath. “Walker … I don’t want you to marry someone else,” I croak. “You can’t.”
“I know,” he whispers, not giving me anything else besides those two insignificant words. “Let’s go to bed. I want to hold you.”
Why is he avoiding talking about this? Is it because he knows he’ll never get out of this deal and the time in this hotel is really the end for us?
God, I hope not.
***
Walker
“You can’t avoid talking about it forever, you know,” Poppy says softly against my side. “Eventually, the day is going to come for you to go marry this girl.”
Right after we fucked, she brought it up. And being the coward that I am, I couldn’t bear to talk about it, so I tried to shut it down. But she’s right. It’s not going away. She deserves to know everything about this other girl and the deal. It’s the least I can give her.
“I know,” I whisper into the semi-dark room. “I guess I just keep thinking if I don’t talk about it, it’ll go away. Which is stupid for me to even think because my uncle isn’t the type to not collect debts.”
“Why does your uncle care if you marry this girl or not? If Briar is marrying into the family already, isn’t that enough?” She shrugs her slender shoulders. “Why drag you into it?”
“Because in Beckett’s eyes, it gives him more control. He’s always been able to control my sister. But me? Not so much.”
“Until now,” she mutters. “All because of me.”
I tighten my grip around her. “I will gladly take the wrath of my uncle and all his stipulations if it means that I get to make it right with you, Poppyseed.” I run my fingertips on the bare skin of her back. “Since I left you, thoughts of you on that sidewalk have haunted me every single day. But that wasn’t nearly as bad as thinking that you were in danger all those years.” I sigh. “At least this way, we’re leaving on a good note, and I’ll know that you’re safe because these lowlifes will be taken care of.”
“Yeah, probably just in time for Ron to suddenly get out of jail,” she says with a laugh, but it’s laced with sadness.
She doesn’t know that I’ve been keeping tabs on her father since I left. He still has a year to serve in prison. But once he gets out, I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to reconnect with Poppy.
Just thinking about it, I ball my hands up, and my nails dig into my palms. Whatever I can do to make sure that doesn’t happen, I will. I might have to be married to someone else, but I’ll always protect Poppy first.
When I don’t say anything, she carries on. “I understand why you left, Walker. Back then, I was being selfish, and the only thing I could focus on was the pain of losing you. But now, I get it.” She kisses my flesh. “I’m going to be okay. But it’s not fair that your life is being dictated by someone else. You deserve so much more than that.”
“Yeah,” I utter under my breath before glancing down at her just as she angles her head upward. “What about you? What happened to Juilliard? I thought that was your dream.”
It’s almost as though her body stiffens at the mention of her dream school. And I feel her sighing before her lips part, and she answers, “I didn’t end up applying there.”
“Why the hell not?” I can’t stop how annoyed I sound, which isn’t a good thing because, with Poppy, I need to remember to tread lightly.
“I mean, when it came time to apply, Jake was still living in the trailer with all of us, waiting to hear back about the housing program he had applied for. I couldn’t just leave him, you know?” She stops for a few seconds, looking away from me. “Van had gotten himself into drugs, and I couldn’t leave Jake with Ron. So, I applied here. And I got in.”
Brushing some loose strands of hair from her face, I exhale slowly. “You deserve to follow your dreams, Poppy. You are allowed that.”
She’s colder now, her body more rigid. “I probably wouldn’t have gotten in anyway, so what’s it matter now? This is a good program, and I can go visit Jake—in his very own place—anytime I want.” She looks up at me again, clearly begging for a change of topic. “Well, I can once this crazy hockey player guy stops holding me hostage.”
I force myself to chuckle, but only to appease her. Deep down, I keep thinking about how much this girl has given up. And how I’d give anything … anything at all, to watch her dreams come true.
Even if I can’t be next to her while it happens.