The Confidant

Chapter Twelve

Adelaide

Two weeks pass in the blink of an eye.

Damon got a new job down the street, promising to come in when I need him. I’m sad to see him go, but I get it. Bills to pay and a girlfriend to spoil. That doesn’t make the feeling of abandonment go away, though. It isn’t rational, but it’s another wound when I’ve gotten overloaded with them.

Without Damon’s steady distraction, I stare at my phone too much. I promised myself I wouldn’t drive anyone crazy by calling anymore. I’ll wait for them to get in touch with me. That doesn’t stop me from wanting to. It’s a rough road pretending I’m not waiting for a single text from one of them. Another wound to add to the pile.

I’ve been debating starting therapy again. This time, to help me sort out the complex emotions my family has started bringing out in me. Now that Poe has pointed it out, I’ve been going back through my life with a new filter. Or maybe I should say without a filter.

All of the subtle and not-so-subtle issues that I’ve had in my life. The lack of attention from Maman. And when she gave it to me, it was to be punished. I tried my best to stay on her good side by being quiet and doing well in school. Dying my hair and wearing those damn contacts. I hid myself away while silently begging her to love me again.

It earned me nothing. Any good moment I had in school was overshadowed by my siblings' achievements. Sometimes, Maman didn’t even sign my report cards.

Within a few years, I started to slip up. A kernel of resentment that I thought I squashed out long before popped up and refused to go away, with a hint of rebellion to add some spice. That tiny flair of anarchy wasn’t the beginning of the end. It was an escalation of what was already happening.

That little spark gradually grew into a tiny flame over time. My own hooligan stage, just like Asher’s, without the law-breaking.

I wanted to hold onto my accent as the one thing about myself I liked. I love Louisiana. I love everything about it. I wanted to keep something that made me happy. The bio wasn’t the only one with an accent. Maman couldn’t shed hers, so why did I have to struggle so hard? I wanted them to see that. To rebel against Dad’s influence in another way. To take back control of things and make them ours instead of his.

They chose to wipe it out entirely. As if getting rid of any hint of him would make everything all better.

It was my first independent decision, and Maman latched onto it. The blond hair and darker eyes weren’t enough anymore. I had to prove myself, and I failed every single time.

Looking back has made me realize how blind I’ve always been.

I’ve been leading myself down a path that she’s made for me when I thought I was stopping her at the crossroads.

Every single time I tried to determine my own course was an issue. Every time I watched my family bow their heads and accept whatever Maman said, that anger flared higher. We all knew she was wrong. Why was I the only one speaking out anymore?

I thought they were the clueless ones who needed protecting. It turns out they learned early and watched me acting like a fool for their own amusement.

Then my drawings weren’t good enough.

Never as good as Suzette’s, the painter of the family. We have two different styles that don’t match up. Hers are flowing colors that bring peace. Mine are sharply detailed, vibrant, in-your-face screams.

Body art. Self-expression. That wasn’t a way to speak without words to Maman. It was a brand that marked me as evil.

Despite the rebellions, I gave in on a lot of decisions. Not all, but most.

Like the fact that I can’t call Joseph Pa like everyone else can. Maman’s fierce expression, the one time I tried to do it, would have stopped me, but she had to nail it home with words.

“He’s not yours. You let Asher and the girls have him. They deserve to be treasured. You had your turn.”

I had my turn.

As if the affection that was a complete illusion to keep me distracted from reality should be enough to last me a lifetime.

Any time I bring up my hobbies or interests, it turns into a battle. Nothing I want from life is good enough. My art is trashy, and the fact that my medium is ink on skin confirms it.

Some of my sisters have tattoos or piercings. None of them are evil. No, the only one that bears that label is me. And it’s even worse that I tattooed all over Asher. Maman’s baby. She acts like I drugged him to get him on the table for it, while Ash tells people he fell asleep, and I covered him in flowers as revenge. It used to feel like a joke when he said it. Now it feels like another careful distance from the bond I thought we had built.

The days we would sit at the shop during quiet times and pour over books of flowers to find the perfect message for his body to shout out. Rhododendron on his shoulders to warn people to stay away. Tansies on the backs of his hands to show he’s ready for war.

Maman didn’t care that Ash started wearing shirts without long sleeves when his skin was covered in ink. Or that he finally cut his unruly mop of hair shorter to stop hiding himself away. The first time I saw him in a tank top, I went home and bawled my eyes out. He took that step for himself and never looked back.

How could she hate on that?

Before everything fell apart, she was a normal, over-stressed mother of five. Working multiple jobs to make ends meet since no one else could or would. After that, there was shock and horror. A lot of guilt.

The change didn’t come over her all at once. It was subtle digs in the beginning. Things that made me feel uncomfortable without causing pain. I can see the slow escalation now that I’m holding it under a microscope. Everything I’ve done that she disagrees with has made it worse.

I think the move was the breaking point between us. Things went from bad to worse. I don’t even recognize her anymore.

I need to figure my head out before I make any decisions regarding it. Being mad won’t help, and she can stir that up without much effort. Trying to have a normal chat with her about it is out because we’re both too emotional for it. It would turn into a fight as soon as I opened my mouth. I’m hoping therapy will give me a good answer on how to deal with it.

On top of that, I have a pushy boyfriend who’s begging me to move in with him.

A lot of big decisions are coming, and I can’t slow down time.

Poe keeps me busy just by existing. Now that Damon isn’t here to keep us in check, he’s with me as much as he can be. He leaves for work and comes back happy to see me every day. We spend our nights hanging out at my apartment and laughing our fool heads off. Half of my plushies are at his place by now.

Everything is winding down and starting up at the same time. It feels like a new beginning while everything else is ending. It’s terrifying.

Every day, the shop stays empty. Closing is going to happen and soon. I should be out there looking for a table-hop job. My spirit isn’t ready to give in, but reality doesn’t pull punches.

I barely have enough money to cover the bills for both the shop and my apartment this month. Next month isn’t looking any better.

Poe offered to buy it so those worries would disappear. I have to admit, I’m tempted. But something about it doesn’t feel right.

Maybe it’s the thought that he’s used all that money to do good. He built SoT from the ground up so other people wouldn’t suffer through the kind of experiences he’s had. He wanted a family, and he found one.

The media was a circus around him at the beginning. He’s shown me the articles he was afraid I would see. Some paint him as a Saint. Some a sinner trying to redeem himself.

He keeps himself out of the limelight as much as possible to keep the group’s image from getting tarnished. Most of the members have only met him over the phone. He paints himself as an eccentric artist who had money to burn and no one but his personal group knows the truth.

If my brave man wants to hide in the shadows, I’ll support it. As long as he understands, all those old articles don’t mean a thing to me. He’s happy with his life. That’s all that matters.

That doesn’t mean I want to spend his fortune on a money pit when I could get off my ass and find another job. I’m ok with him supporting me to ease the burden, but I want to fly free too.

He’s still pouting over the decision, racking his brain on how to help in a different way. I’ve been tugging at his hair and telling him it’s turning gray way too early.

Everything is in upheaval. Everything but our relationship. So much has happened in so short a time that I’m overwhelmed with emotions instead of basking in his open acceptance of all I am.

One step at a time, I need to get myself together. I’ll meet with Asher when he’s ready and then decide about family matters from there. Pushing that to the back burner is a habit.

It’s my procrastination at work here, but I don’t have the will to fight it.

Especially when my other problem isn’t a problem at all.

Poe. My pushy, yappy, kidnapper of a junkyard dog.

“Hey, Addie,” an old familiar voice calls from behind me, drawing me out of my thoughts right when I was about to smile.

I try not to let out the sound of disgust that wants to pop out. If it isn’t William, the ex. Why not add another little drama to my life? Thanks so much.

I can hear William’s feet jogging to catch up to me. I hope he trips on air and knocks himself out.

This man helped demolish my sense of self-esteem with his ridiculous insistence on changing everything about me when we got together. I’m too clingy. I act crazy instead of being spontaneous. The final straw was him seeing my scars when I stayed with him one night. It was a drunken night I’ll never repeat.

I’m now very aware of why we had so many arguments about my behavior. I didn’t want to give in an inch. I wanted to be me, whether he liked it or not. In the back of my head, I could hear Maman’s voice over his demands. She’s not the only one who wants me to ‘be better than I am’.

William is one of Damon’s friends from high school, so I still try to be polite. He makes it difficult, though. I’m not in the mood for his petty antics today.

He finally gets to my side and gives me a wide, insincere smile. Whatever he wants, it’s nothing good.

“I heard you’re closing up shop.” He starts off strong with a smug grin.

The emotional punch to my solar plexus stays hidden. Damon must be keeping him in the loop about my life. I need to ask him to stop as soon as possible.

“Hey, William. How’s your mom?” I ask without breaking stride. Two can play the petty game. He had to move back in with his parents a few months after we broke up. I feel bad for them. I only ever ask how they are, never him. It irritates him, and I love that.

“Good,” his voice tightens the faintest amount. I smirk without taking my eyes off my destination. I wish I were already inside my apartment.

“Damon claims you’re dating again.”

He makes it sound as if separating from him crushed me so bad that I couldn’t get back out there. It’s more like he exhausted me to the point of avoiding dating. It might be splitting hairs, but it counts to me. I wasn’t crying my eyes out for days on end. I enjoyed the peace and quiet. He had a girlfriend within a week. There wasn’t much heartbreak all the way around.

“Is there something I can help you with?” I stop to give him a bland expression of boredom.

“I was just catching up with you,” he turns to me with narrowed eyes. I used to think the brown irises were beautiful. Now they’re just eyes. Creepy eyes, actually. And he’s blond. The realization makes me want to gag.

“Consider us all caught up then. I’m not in the mood to pretend you aren’t skeezy tonight. Later.”

I walk away faster, but he keeps up, his mocking smile turning into a frown.

“Don’t take your failures out on me,” he protests. “I’m trying to make sure you’re doing ok.”

Yeah, I’m cutting this off tonight. No more fake politeness or sassy sarcasm. I want this problem gone. I have enough on my plate without adding him to the mix.

“I was. Then I saw you. You know how much I hate leftovers.”

“What the fuck?” He grabs my arm, right above my elbow, and yanks me to a stop. The tight grip he has makes me wince before I firm up my lips.

He’s never been physical before. Things would have ended a lot faster if he had shown any signs of that.

Unless this has always been there and I've buried it deep in my head, like everything else I dislike.

This won’t stand. At all.

“Did I say you could touch me? You’re getting arrogant as hell, couyon . It’s not a good look.” The words escape me from between gritted teeth as I yank my arm. He won’t let go.

“What is your problem? I thought we were friends.” His glare is filled with an anger I don’t think I deserve.

“Friends who curse and barely tolerate each other, maybe. Consider this your notice. We don’t need to pretend to care about each other anymore. We’re done. Now, let me go. You’re headed down a road called kick him in the balls. Turn back now.” I dig my nails into the back of his hand to get him to turn me loose. His fingers tighten down more.

My phone starts ringing, but I’m too focused on getting away from this fonchock to answer. I’m about to start yelling.

“Let go, crazy man!”

It’s already starting. My voice is so filled with fury that it echoes off the buildings. I’m going to be black and blue if he doesn’t let go.

Another enraged voice comes as my struggles increase.

“ Addie !”

My head twists to the side, and my eyes widen at Poe’s running approach. He’s furious and totally focused on William. His lips are peeled back to reveal clenched teeth.

I blink, and he’s next to me, throwing a punch into the side of William’s face full-throttle.

William never looked to see who was calling out to me. It likely saved his nose. I don’t think his cheek is going to forgive him for it.

Poe’s hand clamps over William’s wrist before he has a chance to fall. Whatever pressure he uses makes his fingers spasm open for me to stumble away. Poe uses the grip to keep William upright so that he can keep punching his ribs. The same spot multiple times. Like he’s digging for gold and needs to break ground first.

I’m yelling in Cajun, begging him to stop. I grab onto his arm and shake him, my words blurring together until they make no sense to me, either.

Poe shakes his head like he’s waking up and looks at me. The transition from rage to concern happens so quickly that it shuts my mouth.

“Tell me you’re ok, siren.” He looks me over for wounds. It helps my panic come back into focus.

“You fool man! You’re hurt!” I grab his punching hand and hold it up to blow across his knuckles while I grumble. They’re red and slightly swollen but not torn open.

“Crazy. No more of this.” I start pulling him back toward the shop. I’m disoriented, and it’s the safest spot I can think of.

“I don’t understand you,” he protests, willingly following along like a dog on a leash. “What language is that?”

I ignore him, cursing under my breath. I thought I was speaking English.

He turns things around in a snap. Suddenly, I’m the one being dragged away. His arm wraps tight around my waist as he hurries us along. It isn’t until he opens the door to a fancy white BMW with a black stripe up the hood that I realize he’s taking me further away. He even leans in and buckles me up.

“ Qui ?” I try to ask, but the door gets closed before I can finish the word. I watch him pace around the front of the car to get in on the driver’s side. The way he slams the door shut has me glaring.

“You be nice. This is an expensive beast, yeah?” I cross my arms, ready to go after him for beating a defenseless car.

“ That I understood,” he mutters, starting the car and speeding away.

“You fool man,” I breathe in wonder. “You could have been hurt. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that guy has his hands on my woman, and I’m going to break him into pieces for it.” His eyes slide to me as I gape.

I’d be lying if I said my heart didn’t swan dive into my stomach with glee over it. To cover it up, I start cursing under my breath again.

William deserved a good beating for multiple reasons. I don’t want Poe going to jail over it, though.

A few minutes later, we pull into the driveway of a home and straight into a garage. I barely have a chance to see the white house with a large black door. A single floor spread wider than it should be, with a walkway and green grass. Then, it’s the white walls of a garage, big enough for two cars.

“Where are we?” I look at the boxes stashed to the side with clear labels that read ‘lighting’, ‘old ideas’, and ‘pieces’.

“Our place.”

I look at him in disbelief as he gets out, the garage door closing with a soft whump. He circles the front, watching my face as he gets to the passenger side and opens my door.

“We’re about to fight, yappy dog,” I warn him as I pass.

“Thanks for the heads up, trash panda.”

He smiles like he thinks I’m joking.

I step into a clean laundry room and pass into the living room. I’m struck by what I see and stop at that point.

The entire living room is filled with plush raccoons in various poses doing random things. Three are on the couch, with just enough space for Poe to fit in between them. Leaning against the wall, and two holding up a third with cheerleader skirts on. In the corner, there’s a display stand filled with random movies and books. Sitting in front is a raccoon holding a book open with a pair of glasses perched on its nose. Next to that is one climbing a stepladder to support the one on top, holding some lighting equipment. The raccoon posing at the center of the light has a purple wig and bracelets on its wrists.

A good chunk of my plushies have moved in and taken over.

Poe’s arms wrap around me from behind, and his chin rests on my shoulder. I don’t have to see his face to know he’s grinning.

“Do you like it?”

“Of course I do,” I pout. “I stepped into the trap just like the rest of my crew.”

“I did stuff you in my car and take you home,” he admits, pressing gentle kisses along my throat. “It’s a familiar routine.”

“I know it,” I deadpan back. “Don’t think you’re going to distract me, yappy dog. I’m mad at you.”

He makes a thoughtful sound of acceptance and bites down on a sensitive spot on my neck. I can’t help the moan that erupts as soon as the goosebumps start flowing down my neck.

“I want to see what you look like when you wake up in my bed, siren,” he whispers, tugging at my earlobe with his teeth.

He presses his hips into me, letting me feel the erection coming to life in his pants. His hands move from my waist to my breasts to squeeze. With the bra in the way, it doesn’t feel quite right, but he’s headed in the right direction to get me naked.

The muted touch must frustrate him as much as it does me. His hands dive under my shirt, pulling the bra away until I feel the heat of his fingers.

“Careful, or you’ll break it,” I mutter with a frown.

The feeling of the tight band isn’t quite comfortable, but his fingers roughly caressing my nipples overshadows it. They’re sensitive from yesterday when he spent an eternity sucking them. Every brush of fabric across them has been a light tease that’s kept me on a low simmer of arousal all day. The faintest reminder that his lips and tongue made them that way had me imagining him doing it again.

My ass moves over his crotch, distracting him for a second before he starts pinching and fondling my heavy breasts. His lips are more insistent on my neck at the subtle sign of my slowly crumbling moral high ground.

I wanted to stay strong and give him a good lecture. He’s worming his way out of it with devious methods.

It may work for this second, but he’s still going to get what’s coming to him.

I’m expecting him to lead me to a bedroom. Reality is so much better.

His hands fall to my hips and bite in. I’m marched to the island in the middle of the kitchen before he releases me. A hand slides into my hair and holds on with a tight grip.

“Bend over,” he snaps with a tug on my hair.

The sting of pain makes my eyes widen. What I always expected to be an immediate turn-off brings a shudder down my spine. Paired with his dark tone, it makes me weak in the knees.

I brace my hands on the countertop with shaky breaths of anticipation. He presses me down farther with his grip on my hair before his hand disappears.

He attacks the button on my jeans, yanking the fly open with a harsh sound. The rough manhandling to get them down to my thighs only amps me up higher.

All that anger has turned into hunger. I’m helpless to resist. My panties cling to me because they’ve gotten too wet to slide off easy.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his fingers playing there as my legs shake.

“Poe,” I whisper, half scared and half excited. I folded like a house of cards in a windy tunnel. What happened to my sass?

“I’m coming home, siren,” he grits back.

I sag against the counter with a moan, bracing myself on my elbows.

“That’s right. Perfect,” he mutters.

His hands brush my ass as he frees himself from his pants. I can feel how hard he’s shaking; how rough his breathing is as he struggles with it.

He braces a hand on the counter, the other lining him up with my entrance.

The first heavy thrust glides in so smoothly that I feel my cheeks heat with embarrassment. Barely there foreplay, and I’m so wet I’m dripping.

His other hand slaps down near my elbow as he starts powering into me. My legs are caught in denim and lace. I can’t move in this position. All I can do is take what he’s giving me.

With my thighs so tightly squeezed together, he feels massive. Every withdrawal is an agony of pleasure. The rough re-entry rocks my belly into the counter.

His thrusts are still teasing me. He won’t pull out all the way, forcing me to stay pinned with half his length rocking inside me.

“Yes. All mine,” he groans. “No one can take you from me. You’re my home. My soul. Fuck, I love you.”

His voice breaks as he confesses to me. I can’t catch my breath to answer back. All that comes out are broken sighs and a whine as I struggle to rock back into his thrusts.

His chest meets my back, stilling any movement I could make. When his lips meet my ear, I whimper.

“You hear me, Addie? I love you. I’ll break without you. I will never see something like tonight and not want to kill whoever is hurting you. Argue all you want. This time I’m not having any fucking manners about it.”

He sits up, grabs my hips, and begins to hammer into me. I cry out at the sharp pleasure, so slick inside, he never meets any resistance. He’s bumping the end of my cervix without mercy. It creates a dull throb, not quite pain, that seems too much at first. Then not enough.

“Poe, love you,” I manage to gasp out.

He grunts, stilling for the briefest second before his hips slap against my ass with relentless fury. His perfect words are reduced to pants and broken moans as he works me up.

The intensity of the orgasm building inside makes me rise to my toes as if I’m trying to get away from it.

The sharp slap he gives the side of my ass as he barks out his favorite word stuns me. There’s some pain that turns into a moving warmth that surprises me. My clit throbs for his attention, begging for more.

“Don’t you dare try to get away from me.”

“Poe, harder, please,” I gasp out, pressing my cheek against the cold counter.

“I know you liked it. You’re dripping down my balls, siren,” he lets out a dark laugh that sounds a little scary. I’m too dazed to take it in.

“Harder,” I moan. I’m so close. If he could just keep going. Faster. A different angle. I know this one will top out any orgasm he’s ever given me.

“Like this?”

That sly, smug tone is the only warning I get.

He starts hammering into me so hard I can feel the counter edge bruising my stomach. By the third thrust, my mouth opens on a silent scream, my body jittering as an orgasm takes me under. My inner walls tremble with pleasure.

“Yes,” Poe groans and keeps going. Even as his cock stiffens and kicks, showing me he’s cum, he doesn’t stop.

That cutting orgasm rises into a wave that makes my abs tighten painfully. My nails dig in to hold me still, my forehead pressing into the sweat-slicked counter below. A sharp sound escapes me before my hips buck wildly, trying to get more.

That feeling peaks and spreads through me, leaving my body floating in pure bliss. I feel boneless as my body goes slack.

“Addie?” Poe asks sharply, quickly pulling out to lift me into his arms.

“Siren, talk to me,” he insists.

“Love you,” I mutter blearily, settling my head on his chest. He never took his shirt off. Did he even take his pants off?

“Fuck,” he whispers, places a gentle kiss on my forehead, and starts walking.

I’d open my eyes to see where, but I don’t care. As long as he’s with me, it’ll be fine.

I must fall asleep because the next thing I know, we’re in a giant bed that feels like a cloud with blankets covering us. My sweat is gone, my body aching but relaxed. My face is pressed to Poe’s chest. His heart is a steady rhythm against my cheek.

“Poe?” I ask softly, just in case he’s asleep.

“Addie,” he lets out a shuddering breath. I feel his heart rate increase. “You scared me.”

“Sorry.” I don’t sound sincere. I don’t know what he just went through, but for me, that was the best orgasm I’ve ever had. “Do you think we could do that again? Like, all the time?”

“Fuck, no,” he snaps back. “I was too rough. There’s a perfect handprint on your hip that’s going to bruise. You passed out. There’s no way I’m doing that again.”

My eyes crack open with a mutinous expression.

“I’ve never had an orgasm like that in my life. You gave it to me, and I want more. Deal with it. Get some smelling salts.”

His chest rises on a deep, stuttering inhale. When it whooshes out he whispers, “You asshole.”

“Now that I’m back in fighting shape, let’s get to it,” I sit up, suddenly so full of energy I’m ready to burst.

He’s lying on his back with his mouth open in disbelief as I glare at him. His hair is a mess, half in a knot and half dangling over his cheek. Whatever concern he was feeling has been shocked out of him.

“Oh, you knew this was coming, yappy.” I raise a brow.

“But, you were just,” he trails off in confusion. “What the hell just happened?”

I straddle his waist and brace my hands on either side of his face to stare right into his eyes.

“I don’t mind you being mad. I don’t mind you beating someone up. What I do mind is you getting hurt or arrested.”

His mouth snaps shut so hard his teeth click. The mutinous look that starts up is impressive, but I’m not falling for it.

I sit up and grab his wrist, bringing his hand up for me to see. His knuckles are still swollen, making me tsk in irritation.

“My man’s hands are all bruised up. Next time we retreat and make a plan, you understand me? I’m not going to stand by while you go hog wild on someone. Ever heard of cameras? Evidence? You’ve got better methods.”

“I do?” He asks warily, slowly relaxing into the mattress. This isn’t the rampage he was expecting.

“You’re rich, yappy,” I glare at him. “Sic some lawyers on him. Dig up dirt. Humiliate him on social media. Force him into bankruptcy. Anything but this.”

“Addie,” his hand flips in mine to cup my cheek. I press his fingers into the skin and close my eyes.

“I won’t watch you get arrested and taken away from me. Don’t ask me to do that. I need you here, right beside me.” My burning eyes open to let tears come out. “I don’t ever want to see you hurt.”

His face is frozen in surprise.

“Please, Poe,” I lean down and press a kiss against his lips. “Compromise with me.”

“Fuck me,” he lets out a resigned sigh.

I let out a soft chuckle. “I will if you meet me halfway.”