Chapter 28 #2
My father never stopped, either. He hit me until he was too tired to carry on.
My head doesn’t care that I never raised a hand to Millie. That I’d never do it. I wouldn’t hit her or belittle her, but even without that, there are too many parallels.
And it’s a slippery fucking slope because even knowing how wrong it all was, I still want her.
I wake up hard, recalling her open, defiant expression. She looked magnificent beneath me. Full of me. Breathtaking. So fucking beautiful. I fuck my fist twice a day, thinking about the sounds she made when she came all over my cock. The ecstasy painting her face and hooding her spectacular eyes.
I told her I won’t be her monster, but what do you know? I might actually be a fucking liar because the real reason behind my ongoing spiral isn’t what I did... it’s that I’m still not fucking sorry enough to really let her go.
***
After I’ve drunk three more piss-beers, Hyde inhales a deep, centering breath, turning his body my way. He looks like he’s bracing for impact, and I straighten my spine, suddenly not so certain he doesn’t know about Millie and me.
“Spit it out,” I say, chasing the words with another swig.
I’ve no idea why I haven’t ordered a Coke or some sweet, colorful, virgin drink. This stuff’s shit.
“Hit me,” he tells Jed, pushing his empty bottle aside.
Beating a confession out of him would be quicker.
“Is it about the girl?” I ask.
“What girl?”
“The freshman you damn near fucked in the middle of the common room. That girl.”
His shoulders drop an inch as he chuckles. “I was drunk, Creed, and she was asking if I wanted her and her friend.”
“So you’re not seeing anyone?”
“No. Nothing changed. I’d tell you if I met someone worth my time. For now, I’m trying to be a little less obvious. Millie doesn’t need to know her brother’s fucking around.”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “You think she doesn’t realize? If gossiping were an Olympic sport, her roommate would be a gold medalist. Millie doesn’t have to see you with a different girl every few days to know what you’re doing.”
“Maybe, but—”
“Pretending’s easier?” I guess. “You pretend you’re not sleeping around, and she pretends she doesn’t know that you do.”
“Something like that.”
“Whatever works.” I pull from my bottle, wincing as the last of the lukewarm piss trails down my esophagus. “So? You ready to tell me what’s eating at you?”
He rubs both hands up and down his face. His fingers linger at his mouth, pressing hard against his lips. “I saw them.”
I don’t like the tone of his voice. It makes my spine stiffen and jaw clench. “Them being...?”
“Millie and Noah.”
Fuck. My stomach does that weird runaway elevator trick, dropping to my knees.
“Saw them where?” I ask, then clear my throat, the riot ruling my mind clogging up my throat. “When?
I don’t give a shit where or when he saw them, but what he saw materializes before my eyes, fucking with my composure. He wouldn’t stew for an hour, stripping labels off bottles, if what he saw didn’t bother him.
Were they too close for his liking? Maybe Noah was holding her hand? Was she cuddling into him? Were they... kissing?
Maybe he walked in on—
No, not going there.
“On Saturday,” Hyde supplies, answering half of my two-parter and sending a clenched fist down my throat with it.
Fuck!
I turned her on and pushed her straight into his arms...
Hyde drops his elbows on the bar counter, one hand curling around a bottle, the other squeezing the back of his neck, unaware I’m this close to ordering shots. He can’t drop a bomb like this while I’m the designated driver.
“I was looking for him before the fights,” he continues.
It takes me a disgraceful amount of time to process this and grasp the detail. He saw them before I pushed Millie away.
“I figured he’d be playing chess with Millie in the library, so I went over there and saw them...” He pauses to pull from his bottle, swallowing one gulp after another, “...making out.”
Making out...
Kissing.
Millie and Noah.
My fingers tremble around the fresh fake beer Jed’s set before me. I close my fist before Hyde notices and relax my jaw before I crack a molar.
“Alright...” I exhale. “It’s been days and Noah’s still breathing, so what? You don’t mind?”
He mulls it over and I swear every pause gets longer and more annoying.
“I don’t know what the fuck to think, Creed. I knew he was into her from the get-go, but I didn’t think anything would happen. Or that Millie would be interested. She was only ever into Evan, and Noah’s just so different.”
Hooking a finger in the collar of my hoodie, I tug and tug, the bar too stuffy to breathe properly. My knee’s bouncing and every bottle lining the shelves calling my name.
Whiskey would do nicely right about now.
“Either you want to break his face for touching your sister or you don’t,” I grit out. “It’s not rocket science, Hyde. You fucking told us she’s off limits and now... what?”
“I don’t know but she’s smiling more, Creed. She’s talking more, too, and she eats three meals a day.”
“And you think that’s Noah’s doing?”
“Maybe.” He lands both elbows back on the bar, pushing his beer from one hand to the other. “I wanted to break his jaw, trust me. He’s not the kind of guy I’d pick for her, but when I saw them, he was different. And she’s calm around him.”
“Different how?”
“For starters he held her in this I’ve got something precious here kind of hold.”
My imagination fires up, conjuring pictures of Millie in Noah’s arms, their lips working in breathless sync. That hold Hyde described might be the worst part. Or best.
I don’t fucking know.
She didn’t want soft from me... but it’s different with Noah. Why? Maybe because whatever’s between them is serious and I’m just an outlet for her fucked little head’s recklessness.
“So... he’s got your blessing?” I spit out.
“Maybe.” Hyde pulls from the bottle, sets it down, then drinks again, turning his body my way. “What do you think?”
“I think—”
Fuck, what do I think?
I’ve been trying to quit Millie since the start. Aside from being Hyde’s sister, she’s young and innocent and deserves a stable, sane man after all she’s been through.
Noah’s stable, but the thought of them drives me insane.
I’ve told myself to stop obsessing and stalking her. Every day since I saw her lying in that hospital bed, still, fragile, and barely clinging to life.
“I don’t know, Hyde,” I say, even though what I really want to say is fuck him up, fuck him up good before I do. “They’re two consenting adults, right? I don’t think there’s anything you should do. Unless you’re worried he’ll hurt her.”
He nods to let me know he heard, his jaw tight, before he pulls from his bottle again.
And I swear he mutters it’s not her I’m worried about.