epilogue
Colt Darling
I’m too fucked up for this. I know I’ll barely remember the moment my cousin went down on one knee and asked Dolly to be his forever girl.
This party may not be like the Darling parties of old, but it’s still a party.
I threw down an extra pill or two before coming, and though coke is harder to come by nowadays, the champagne still flows, and the cold beer is plentiful.
I whoop and pump a fist in the air when she says yes.
Preston stands and pulls her in, kissing her in front of all our friends and family.
I’m grinning my fool head off because he’s a brother to me and I’m happy for him.
He’s had a hard go of it, and if there’s one person in this town who deserves a happily ever after, it’s that crazy bastard.
And hell, maybe I’m something of a romantic.
If the moment is right and the pussy’s good enough, maybe someday I’ll get on one knee for someone.
When I look down, Dixie’s gazing up at me with those big doe eyes of hers that make me feel like shit every time. I know what she’s thinking. She might as well have a megaphone with how hard she’s broadcasting that signal.
She wants to be the girl I get on my knee for so bad it hurts. And not just her.
It hurts her so damn much that it hurts me, too.
Because I know that if I do that, I’m going to be doing just what Dolly did.
Okay, so I’m a bastard. But hey, everyone in the room is thinking the same thing—my cousin’s ugly as fuck, and Dolly’s… Well, if sex became human, it would look like Dolly Beckett.
But I’m not some chick with self-esteem issues who thinks she can’t do any better. That’s Dixie. She’s just like her cousin. I’m the only one thinking straight here, despite the extra beer on top of the pills in my system. I’ve still got more sense than the three of them combined.
Preston might not have the decency to let Dolly go find someone better, but I like to think I’ve still got a shred of decency in me.
That’s why I’m not going to rope Dixie into marrying me when I know damn well that I’m not the best she can do.
I may not be an ugly fucker like Preston, but I’ll also never throw myself in front of a bullet for her.
See, straight-up romantic at heart.
“What are you thinking about?” Dixie asks as Magnolia puts on a new song and everyone starts dancing again.
“I was thinking I might get another beer,” I say.
“Really?” she prompts, tugging at my neck and smiling imploringly. “I saw how you lit up when she said yes.”
“If Preston’s happy, I’m happy for him.”
“And what about you?” she asks. “Think you might want that for yourself someday?”
“I might,” I say. “Someday.”
She smiles like I just put a ring on her finger. Fuck. What is wrong with me? Maybe I don’t have more sense than them after all.
“Me too,” Dixie says, tightening her arms around my neck and pushing her tits against my chest.
I turn away from her moony gaze and find myself facing Gloria Fucking Walton, who’s got her leg hitched up on that fucker Maverick’s hip.
He grinds into her like he’s set on ripping a hole right through her jeans to get to the pussy.
Not that I blame the asshole. She’s the hottest girl here by a long shot, especially now that she ditched the stiletto bitch look in favor of a rebel girl style.
Because we’re both friends with Harper, I’ve had to spend more time than I want with her lately.
I have to remind myself constantly that the stiletto bitch is still under there, beneath the leather jacket and ripped jeans.
Just because she talks to me now, just because she bats her baby blues and swings her blonde hair around until I can’t help but know what her shampoo smells like, just because she has a tiny, perfect ass and perky little tits and a waist I could wrap my hands around while she did devilish things to me…
That doesn’t mean she’s not the same demon-spawn who spent the last two years helping destroy my family. Plus, she tossed an A-bomb into my favorite spank bank memory, and that’s just not something you can forgive.
“They make a cute couple,” Dixie says, following my gaze. “Don’t you think?”
Magnolia changes the song to “Senorita,” and Maverick releases Gloria’s leg and puts a few inches between them. She starts moving in a sultry rhythm, her body as lithe and tight as a snake coiled to strike—and just as hypnotic.
Fuck all these dance team girls. It should be illegal to dance like that in front of guys who already have girlfriends.
Maverick smiles down at her, taking her hand and pulling it behind his neck so she has to step in closer.
They dance together, their bodies barely brushing, both moving as if they’re made of nothing but warm oil.
It’s like the world’s most inhumane tease.
Mav turns his face, sliding the sleeve of her jacket down to reveal her slender wrist. He presses his lips to her tattoo, his eyes locked on hers.
“I need a cigarette,” I say, turning away in disgust and dropping Dixie’s arms from around me. I’m almost to the door when Dixie catches up.
“What’s wrong? Did I say something?”
“Not everything in the world is about you, Dixie,” I snap, throwing open the door and stomping out without bothering to hold it for her.
Fuck all that shit about still having a shred of decency.
There’s not a decent bone in my body. All I want is a minute alone for a smoke, and when I can’t get it, I act like a little bitch instead of holding the door for my girlfriend like a gentleman.
But fuck it. I’m too fucked up to care right now.
“It’s about Lo, isn’t it?” Dixie asks, following me down the stairs. “Because I said she was cute with that guy.”
“For the last fucking time, I don’t give a single shit about Gloria,” I say, shoving out the back door and taking a breath of the stiflingly damp, cold air.
This isn’t the first fight we’ve had over this, and it won’t be the last. It’ll go on for the rest of my fucking life, if not about Lo then about whatever girl comes next.
“Then why’d you get mad?” Dixie asks. “You were fine just a minute ago. I’m not stupid, Colt. I know what this is about.”
“What’s it about?” I demand, wheeling on her.
“Those tattoos,” she whispers. “Are those for her?”
“I told you, I don’t remember getting them,” I grit out.
I lost a lot of memories when the Dolces beat my head in, and the doctor says I’ll probably never get some of them back.
Not that it’s stopped me from paying for whatever stupid things I did during that time.
Between the permanent damage to my brain and the constant headache of this argument, it’s no wonder I still need the happy pills my injuries got me hooked on.
“Promise?” she asks. “You really don’t like her?”
“I’m fucking you, aren’t I?” I demand. “You want me to wear a goddamn chastity belt, and give you the key to wear around your neck, so you can make sure my dick never goes near anyone else?”
“That’s not fair,” Dixie cries. “I have every reason to be worried.”
“Why?” I demand.
I deserve the answer to this question, deserve to know why my own girlfriend thinks I’m going to fuck some psycho bitch from hell.
I know there’s a reason, and it drives me fucking insane that I don’t know.
I know I didn’t cheat on her with Lo, since we despised each other back then, but something happened with someone.
I want Dixie to admit she knows more than she’s told me, even though she swears she filled me in on everything I don’t remember.
Her lip trembles, and she stares up at me with those big, hurt eyes that make me wish I was as blind as Preston’s prosthetic eye. “Because she looks like she does,” she says at last. “She’s like, a size zero.”
“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter, pulling out my cigarettes.
“It’s true,” she says. “I’ll never be that skinny.”
“I chose you,” I say. “I’m with you. What else do you want me to do, Dixie? You want me to fuck you right now to prove my dick still gets hard for you?”
“What? No,” she says, her eyes widening when I push her against the wall of the house, beside the steps. My mouth crashes down on hers, and she gives a muffled protest. I kiss her harder, wanting to taste blood, to taste her, and for it to be enough.
After a second, she shudders and kisses me back, probably against her better judgment. Like she said, she’s not stupid. She’s just addicted to a different drug.
“Wrong answer,” I rasp against her neck, tossing the pack of cigarettes on the steps and shoving a hand up her frilly black skirt.
“Yes,” she whimpers, and she widens her thighs. I pull out my wallet, flicking it open to pull out a condom. I tear it open with my teeth while I pull out my dick.
“You don’t have to use those,” Dixie says. “I’m on birth control.”
“Just in case,” I say, rolling the condom over my piercings and down my shaft. I don’t tell her that I don’t trust her any more than she trusts me. That I wouldn’t put it past her to stop taking her pills if she thought she might lose me. Since she always thinks that, I always wear a condom.
When I drive up into her, her head thuds back against the wall, but I don’t pull back. I punch my cock into her with quick, harsh thrusts. I don’t know how it’s possible to hate and love someone at the same time. It’s so fucking complicated, and I don’t do complications.
I miss when things were simple, before the Dolces, before Dixie.
I miss Destiny.
I miss a time when I didn’t miss her.
“What are you thinking about?” Dixie asks.
“I’m fucking you,” I snarl. “What do you think I’m thinking about?”
“Are you thinking about Gloria while you’re inside me?” she demands.
As if I haven’t reached a low enough level in hell, the devil must have heard her name and thought she was being summoned, because she chooses that moment to walk out the back door.