Twenty Seven - River
“Uh,” I stammer, pulling my poor excuse for a coat closer to my body as the crisp November wind whips through the thin material. “You said cabin.” My teeth chatter when the wind picks up, and I curse my lack of good winter wear. Frowning, I look down at my phone and sigh. “And I have no phone signal.”
“Nope!” Rad says with a satisfied grin, rocking on his toes in his T-shirt and shorts. “We're out in the middle of nowhere! There's not a single neighbor for ten miles. Isn't it glorious?” Rad grins more, tossing his phone into the Tahoe and shutting it inside.
I swear, I don't know what it is about these Midwestern boys and their shorts in the middle of November, but they're all the damn same. I had a thirty-minute conversation with him about why he shouldn't wear his socks and sandals. He argued with me every step of the way until he huffed, shoving his feet into sneakers.
“You-you definitely said cabin,” Callum mutters, putting an arm over my shoulders, and rubbing a hand up and down my arm.
“This is a fucking castle, Rad,” Asher says, staring up at the curious-looking structure with furrowed brows. Skepticism lines his face, and he shakes his head. “Not a cabin. We're at the right place, right? You didn't Rad this up and write down the wrong house numbers?”
Kieran snorts. “We're about to walk into someone's family home as they get busy on a Sunday night.” Shaking his head, he runs a hand down his face and steps toward me until he’s at my back and invading my space.
“Yes! You guys are such buzzkills. We're at the right place, damn it!” Rad grumbles, cursing under his breath. “My track manager loaned me this place for a week. Here…” Poking out his tongue, he digs through his pocket and pulls out a sheet of paper. “Right here! Here's the address, and right there,” he says, pointing to the fucking castle with large numbers printed on the front. “It matches. So, we're staying at a castle. And boy, do I have plans to defile every inch of it.” Wiggling his brows, he cockily smirks at me.
“Who builds a castle on the lake in the middle of Missouri?” Kieran murmurs, laying his chin on my head from behind me with a sigh, staring up at the massive fortress with the beautiful lake as the backdrop.
The autumn sun beams down on the crystal lake, reflecting off the turbulent white waves rolling along the surface. A boat in the dock near the water sways on its lift, far above the waters. My nose wrinkles. It's too damn cold to be at a lake house, let alone loitering outside for an obscene amount of time.
“Who cares. It's cold as hell,” I grumble through a sharp shiver. “Let's go. I'm freezing my nonexistent dick off.”
Asher snorts at my comment and shakes his head. “She has a point,” he grunts, tightening his sweatshirt around him.
Rad snorts. “What're you guys complaining for? It's beautiful out!”
“Says the idiot in shorts.” Callum scowls, pulling me further into him, letting me eat up his warmth like a greedy girl.
The large castle-like structure looms above us in white brick, and millions—okay, that's an exaggeration—of windows line the structure. A round turret hangs off the front of the house with large, reddish-colored vines creeping up the side.
In unison, we finally head to the front door, fighting against the wind as it whips around me, knocking my long strands in front of my face. I huff a breath, scowling at Rad when he looks at his keys with furrowed brows. With so much damn relief that we'll be in heat soon, Rad turns the key, and we walk inside, greeted by the warmth of the house.
“Ah,” I grunt, shaking my hands out and basking in the glorious warmth of the gigantic lake-side castle. “Glorious heat!” I moan, wanting to hug the damn furnace and never leave.
“Fuck. Next time, let's make this a summer trip,” Asher gripes, waltzing toward the thermostat and turning it up even more.
He rubs his arms as he looks around, gazing up at the tall ceiling and skylights blasting sunlight into the large living room with an enormous chandelier glistening in the sun, creating small diamonds on the wall.
“So, this is how the over-privileged live,” I murmur, running a finger over the marble countertops of the oversized kitchen, inspecting the beautiful brand-new appliances.
Peering around, I see no dust on any countertops or cabinets. The fridge is smudge-free, and even the sink is perfectly polished. It's like a damn show house you see on TV where the wealthy live, and I’ve only dreamed of staying in. Today, though, it seems my dreams are finally coming true. The kitchen is as big as my apartment and fit for a chef.
“So many places to fuck you against,” Rad quips, kissing my temple affectionately. “But first, we need lots of grub and lube to get through this beautiful week of fornication.”
I roll my eyes at his stupid words and wander around the large living room, running my fingers over the turquoise leather couches and oversized chair.
“We're off for the food and sex toys. Be naked when we get back, and we'll get the orgy started ASAP. Ouch!” Rad grunts when Callum knocks him on the back of the head with a smirk.
“Shut up,” Callum says through a small laugh.
“I'm serious,” Rad says, pointing a finger right at me. “This,” he says, waving his finger now, “is a group dynamic. We're all boning. Asher needs to let loose and discover how beautiful your…” Rad's brows furrow when Asher covers his mouth with a grunt.
“Food. Now,” Asher demands, sending the two on their way.
As soon as they leave, I meander to the back wall, wholly made up of windows overlooking the lake. If it were warmer, I'd demand we strip down naked and jump into the water for hours of swimming.
“There's a hot tub,” I say, pushing my nose against the glass door, eyeing the massive hot tub sitting on the deck outside.
“Getting naked outside in the freezing cold sounds like a dream,” Asher grunts sarcastically. Walking forward, he side-eyes me until stopping in front of the glass.
For several minutes we stand in silence, taking in the beauty of our new home for the week. Asher nibbles his lip, shoving his hands into his jean’s pockets. Clearing his throat, he scoots closer until we're shoulder to shoulder. Something sparks between our connection and heat encompasses my face.
Looking up into his gorgeous hazel eyes, something about him strikes me as different. His shoulders sag lower—almost in relief. His hard-as-stone face softens, letting his genuine emotions peek through the dark veil.
“How're you feeling, Little Brat?” he asks with a hint of concern, searching the yellowing bruises on my face with twisting anguish.
“Concerned about me, Evil Ash?” I jokingly say, shoving my shoulder lightly into his until he smiles. “But I'm fine,” I say, shrugging it off.
I'm still on my pain meds and only have one day left of the antibiotics, so I'm looking forward to finishing it all. The tiny pills are a constant reminder of my attack. Each and every time I swallow them down, the memories replay on repeat. Once the bruises fade and the pain meds are gone, it'll be like it never happened. Only it did happen. But from my experience, I've learned how to heal and slowly move on. Not entirely, but I'll get there knowing this won't break me.
“Fuck it. I got you something,” he says quickly, shaking his head.
My heart pounds against my ribs when he removes his hand from his pocket and holds it out. The room spins, and my heart leaps from my chest. Sitting in the middle of his palm is my most prized possession that the cops refused to give back to me. I fought and fought with them, telling them I needed it to protect myself, but it was evidence of a crime, and they could not hand it over until all the proceedings were finished.
And now, here it sits right before my eyes, shiny and looking brand new. Last I saw, dark, red blood stained every inch from stabbing stupid Bradley.
Tears prickle at the backs of my eyes. “Asher.” My voice comes out rough, clogged with so many emotions.
The tip of my nose burns, and my eyes cloud over as I stroke the name carved into the knife, I've held dear for more than ten years. It's my lifesaver, the one thing that saved me when a maniac thought he could take what he wanted, sending him right into the arms of the cops. There was no denying what he had done to me this time. They couldn't push it under the rug and laugh me away. This time, they listened to every word I had to say, wrote it down, and took me seriously. So seriously, Bradley sits behind bars with no bail available to get him out. After he recovered from his stab wound, that is.
“Don't even mention it, Little Brat,” he says, clearing his throat and keeping his eyes on the turbulent waters in front of us.
“Thank you,” I murmur, leaning up to kiss his cheek and linger, basking in the feel of his skin beneath my lips. He stiffens, taking a deep breath. “This is the nicest thing anyone has done for me in a long time. How?”
Taking my chin between his thumb and index finger, he backs me against the windows, pressing his entire body into mine, letting me feel the planes on every inch of him. Standing tall above me, he pauses and takes in the length of my body in with one swoop. I swallow hard, staring into the abyss of his turbulent eyes filled with deep longing.
My breath shudders when his hip presses into mine. Chest to chest, we breathe each other's air, practically gasping for it. For one split second, thoughts of Asher giving in to the desperate craving surrounding us for months. It chokes me when I breathe. And he’s the oxygen I ache for. Dangling like a sweet treat in front of my face, it rests there like a temptation out of grasp and forbidden from touching. The closest we’ve dared was the night on the Ferris wheel. That dark scene plays on a shrine in the back of my mind. Whenever my fingers slip beneath my panties, it’s their faces watching me work my clit in circles.
“I have my ways,” he murmurs in a low, raspy voice, keeping the details locked tight behind his luscious lips. Leaning in a little, he's a breath away from me—a millimeter from pressing his lips into mine. “Make it up to me later, Little Brat. You can even call me daddy.” The last words leave his wicked tongue on nothing but a murmur, barely audible against my flesh. It’s a promise, sealed with a tiny peck on my cheek.
Fuck. I swallow the moan lodged in the back of my throat. Every inch of me throbs, aching for this man who's mercilessly flirted with me the more time has passed. Shivers roll through me when the faintest kiss presses to the edge of my mouth, and my eyes flutter shut on instinct, leaning into the feel of him. As quickly as the warmth of his kiss presses against me, his body vanishes, replaced by the frigid planes of the window pressing into my back.
“What the hell?” I groan out of frustration, curling my fingers into a fist.
Kieran's chuckle comes from somewhere beside me, and my body sags, letting all the frustrations go. “Oh, River Blue. We've got plans for you this week.”
Promises. Promises. The whole way down here, Rad went on and on about his plans for me this week.
“Oh, Pretty Girl,” Rad whispers directly in my ear, wrapping his fingers around my throat. “I’m going to fuck you within an inch of your life. I’m going to flood your pussy with so much come, and you’ll feel me leaking out of you for a week.” My breath hitches when he grins, kissing my cheek and tightening his grip. “Yeah, I thought you might like that. We’re going to have so much fun this weekend,” he murmurs in a deep, husky voice thick with lust .
Rad wasn’t the only one to whisper sweet nothings into my ear, working me up and letting me flatline in the land of almost orgasming. Over and over, they teased and primed me for this exact moment to finally let me detonate. I knew every whispered word they promised would eventually come true—well, later. Asher had zero plans to help the ache between my legs right now.
“What the hell was that?” I whisper through my frustrations, searching for Asher amongst the shadows of the house.
If his touch hadn't seared into my skin five seconds ago, branding me with his fingertips, I would have sworn he was a ghost passing by.
“Don't mind him. He's fighting a lot of feelings right now,” Kieran whispers, taking me into the warmth of his arms, and resting his cheek on my head with a satisfied sigh.
“Fighting what?” I murmur, placing my ear against his heartbeat and basking in the familiarity of it.
“Everything about you. You scare him. This band is the only thing he has, and here you are, bringing us happily to our knees. He's afraid to fall. He's afraid you'll tear us apart,” Kieran murmurs, leaning into me more. “But don’t worry, River Blue. Asher’s coming around, and once he does, you’ll be all he thinks about and obsesses over. I can see it now.” A grin tips up the edges of his lips, and he nods with certainty that it will all play out how he says.
But half of me disagrees as a lump forms in my throat at Kieran’s nonchalant confession. He’s afraid you’ll tear us apart . Tear them apart? Whispered Words? They’re tighter than any family I’ve ever witnessed. There’s no way little old me would come close to being a threat. The boys are more than a band; they're a damn family unit. Has my presence disrupted that in any way? Am I doing more harm than good by being so close to each of them?
“That's stupid,” I murmur, shaking my head. “I don't plan on breaking anyone up.”
“I know, River Blue. But he's always cautious and calculating our next moves. You're a move he didn't anticipate,” he says, kissing my temple.
“But you actively set out to meet me, right?” Kieran blanches at my question and stiffens with me in his arms, giving away his true intentions.
Blowing out a breath. “Truth?” he questions, and I nod. “We wanted to meet you because of who your dad was, but I didn't expect it to be you. You were a surprise, River Blue. The truth is, I'd track you down, again and again, to be with you. No matter what.”
Kieran's confession doesn't surprise me in the least. But my heart does sting. What would have happened if I hadn't been his River Blue and was just some rando they intended on using? Would they have taken it this far and brought me here for a weekend of fun? Doubt creeps in where it shouldn't, filtering through the sliced-open cracks of my heart. In the back of my mind, I've always had my guard up around them and lived in the present. But sometimes, it does nag and tugs at me, making me re-examine every interaction.
The number of times people have come into the record shop claiming to be my brothers and wanting to talk to me is astronomical. They waltz in with a chip on their shoulder and a smarmy smile and run out like their asses are on fire, with fear lining their faces.
Let's say these persistent ass people don't like meeting the end of my knife when I whip it out and tell them to kick rocks. They'll hesitate. They'll beg, flashing me megawatt grins. Pfft. Like that shit will convince me. In the end, I shoo them out with a knife shake and a cackle. Never seeing their scammy faces ever again. Seriously, who is afraid of a five-foot-five girl holding a knife? Apparently, those jokers. But good thing.
People hear the West name and go bonkers with greed, wanting to meet with my sperm donor in person. For some reason, they always think I'm that person. Sure, I am a West, but I'm not connected to shit. My brothers, possibly sisters, and father—are strangers to me. One day though, I’ll waltz into their operations and introduce myself after I’ve lifted myself out of poverty and have made it as some big-wig manager. Then they’ll see and regret the day they blew off River West.
I always wanted to distance myself from my family and run from the West namesake. But family is everything. I couldn't have gotten through the last few days or weeks without my mom, Ode, and her family—hell, even the boys. Helping the guys has shown me that music lives and runs in my veins. I've nailed many of the challenges a business career could throw at me.
Managing a music venue—check. Building a band's social profiles—check. Managing a band—check.
“Well, now we're hopefully going to California,” I say, leaning back to look at him, dreaming of our future at the tips of our fingers, ready for grasping.
Well, maybe. They may have submitted their application to the Battle of the Bands, but it still has to be reviewed and announced, which should be coming up in the next week or two. For now, we sit on the edges of our seats in anticipation of what will come.
“We're definitely going. There's no question about it,” Kieran proclaims. “They're going to beat down our doors to get a piece of us.” I snort at his confidence but revel in it, too. Whispered Words is good—well—more than fucking good. They're unique and saturated in raw talent that the world will eat up and take hostage. I can only imagine what people across the globe will think when their ears feast on Whisper Words’ tunes.
“Will you go anyway?” I ask, biting my bottom lip. The question has been on the tip of my tongue for weeks. And why wouldn’t they? They’re free to live their dreams and leave this hellhole, even if I’m not a part of the equation.
His palms lightly encase my cheeks, holding me still as his mismatched eyes examine the sadness taking over my face. The thought of separating from them sends pain across my chest. Rubber bands constrict around my lungs, and panic soon settles into my soul. Never in my life did I think I'd want to depend on anyone again; yet, I am right back down the love… rabbit hole. The same damn place I refused to return to after Van obliterated my trust and crushed my cracked heart into pieces. It took me months to get over the sudden breakup. I mean, obviously. I still let that bastard slither between my legs when I was supposed to be working.
The front door bursts open with a loud bang reverberating off the tall, vaulted ceilings, and Rad and Callum's loud laughter and chatter fill the space. Noisy plastic bags rustle in their hands, but I can't drag my eyes away from Kieran as he stands tall. Those mismatched eyes take all of me in. From the tips of my toes to my heaving chest and finally gaze longingly into my eyes.
“We'll wait for you, River Blue, to finish whatever you have to do at home. You're in school and…”
“Fuck no,” I say, swallowing the pain of my words. “You guys have to take the opportunity now. You can't wait.” I shake my head in his grip, refusing to believe they’d wait around for me when something so spectacular has been laid before them. As much as I want them by my side, I can’t destroy their dreams.
“That's right, we will, Pretty Girl! You're our girlfriend.” My lips pop open to refute his proclamation, but I hold my tongue. That fact is, I am their damn girlfriend by now—all of them—even the evil one who refuses to show me how he feels. Wrinkling my nose, I glare at a grinning Rad, who zeros in on my unsaid realization with a knowing look.
“Fuck yes! You finally get it, don't you? We'll wait for you if you can't make it to California. Maybe we'll try the Chicago circuit. They're always looking for new talent, and it's only two hours away,” Rad says with a grin, grunting when he sets the groceries down on the kitchen counters.
“We'll-we'll wait for you,” Callum says with conviction, setting more bags down and rifles through them.
Finally, Asher comes into view, frowning at the island in front of the groceries, lost in thought. A crinkle takes over his forehead, and the color slowly drains from his face. His eyes shift between the boys and finally land on me, where something odd sparks but extinguishes just as quickly.
“You guys can't give up your dreams because of me. I can finish school anywhere,” I say with a shrug. “It's basically all online, anyways.” At least, that's what I planned to do on our trip. All my professors agreed to send me online material to complete while I was gone.
“But your mom,” Rad says with a frown, running a hand across his neck. “You'd leave her?”
The realization smacks me square in the face, and my stomach sinks into the depths of my churning stomach. Could I leave my mother, who is so ill amid a flare-up that she’s barely functioning? Could I leave her while she’s hobbling around on her broken ankle with no income? Shit. Sweat breaks out on my brow as the worry slams into me and knocks the breaths from my lungs.
“I don't know,” I say, swallowing the cold, hard truth.
“Don't you dare worry about me, River. My health is on the rise. My medicine is getting squared away, and I can move more. Enjoy this tiny vacation, okay? You're nineteen. You shouldn't have to worry about your mother,” she says, cradling my face with a sad smile.
“But, Ma. I'll be away in another state for like a week. I can't just…”
“You can and you will. This is my illness to carry. Besides, the nurse is coming over again to help me get around and help with showers and meds. Even she says I'm on my way to coming out of this flare-up.” She cringes when she holds a hand to her side and shakes her head. “It's just a pesky bladder infection. I've got antibiotics to help and all the pain meds I need. I have a neighbor and a nurse on speed dial. Please, be a kid for once,” she pleads with me, and my eyes well up, burning with unshed tears.
“Okay,” I say as a tear slips down my cheek.
The responsibility I hold for my mother sits heavily on my chest. Her well-being is something that goes through my mind on several occasions. All I can think about when I'm away is, is she okay? Did she fall? Can she walk without feeling dizzy and make it to the bathroom, okay? Can she get to the store? So many damn worries rest on my shoulders when I'm running around working two jobs and trying to balance it with some fun with Whispered Words.
“Go have fun. Don't worry about me. Come back refreshed and renewed.” Her smile lights up the room, and she looks healthier than ever when she kisses my cheek and returns to her recliner. That night we had dinner together in front of the television, watching some murder mystery she loves. We laugh for the first time in a long time together and enjoy each other’s company.
“Enough of that,” Asher barks, raising a brow when he pulls out an entire bottle of fancy tequila, staring at it. A wrinkle forms on his brow, and he scoffs. “Seriously? We send you for food, and you come back with seven bottles of tequila?” he asks with a grunt, pulling out multiple bottles of booze and setting them down on the countertop.
“Tequila makes her panties drop,” Rad says with a scoff, taking the bottle from him and cradling it in his arms like a baby. “And the lube makes the booty pop,” he says, nodding to the large bottle of lube Asher places on the counter with twisted lips.
“Pretty sure you don't need tequila to make Little Brat’s panties drop. She does that all on her own,” he quips with a cocky smirk. “But the booty pop? Well, we can make that happen tonight.” He shrugs when I blanch, and my butt cheeks instinctively clench together at his unsaid promise.
“I think I need to sleep with a salt circle around me tonight,” I grumble, flipping him off. A glorious smile spreads across Asher's lips when he barks out a laugh, grabs the bottle of booze, uncaps it, and gulps down a few swigs.
“Ah, the return of Evil Ash!” Rad proclaims, thumping Asher on the back several times until he chokes and rights himself, swiping a hand across his wet lips. Asher promptly shoves him away with a grunt, cursing him under his breath.
“All right,” Callum says, stepping up to the bags. “Let's grill some steaks, drink some tequila, and maybe utilize the hot tub?” At that, his eyes turn to me, and I grin.
“Sounds like a good plan,” I say as we get to work seasoning the steaks.
We drink mixed drinks and watch a few movies for the rest of the night. Once we're good and sloshed, we head out to the hot tub and take advantage of the warm bubbles and jetted sides.
The same happens every night we're locked away in this glorious house. We even convince Rad to skinny-dip in the freezing lake on a dare. Let's say little Rad didn't fare well when he jumped out of the water and ran for the house, screaming bloody murder. We laughed our asses off that night, getting sloppy drunk, and fucking on almost every surface of the house.