26. Collins
Chapter 26
Collins
“ D id you find everything you need to travel with us?” Creed asks as I pop the cap on the water and take a long sip. I don’t miss that hard look in his icy gaze that tells me he was up to something and that question he just asked is going to lead to bad news. I don’t think he knows that I’ve noticed his freshly red and raw knuckles, which tells me he’s knocked someone on their ass more recently than three days ago. Like today. I have a feeling I know exactly what this man was up to, and the fact that he would do something like this without even consulting me puts him at the top of my shitlist. Right next to Riley for spending money on me.
But I play along, for now. “Yep, Riley forced me to go to the mall and spoiled me rotten.” I say, batting my eyelashes at Creed. Riley grins like a shameless goon next to me, looking so adorably satisfied with himself. When he makes eye contact with me though, my belly does a flip because the satisfaction I see there isn’t a cocky satisfaction. It looks like gratitude and relief.
“Spoiled her?” Creed asks, narrowing his eyes at his best friend as I turn back to him. He doesn’t look jealous, though. Interesting .
“Yup.” Riley answers, popping the p and smiling a cocksure smile, his espresso eyes practically glittering with utter male satisfaction.
God, his smile is incredible. I love seeing it. He looks like a damn fae prince with his crazy straight, bright white teeth and those fucking canines that are ever-so-slightly elongated.
“Good,” is all Creed says, the corner of his mouth tipping up before pocketing his phone and coming to press his palms on the island countertop across from where Riley and I sit.
Time to test my theory on what he’s been up to. I roll my eyes at him daring to take Riley’s side of ‘spoiling me’, but I dive into conversation, having thought about what I want to say for less than a minute now. “Anyway,” I pin both boys with a glare. “If you were serious about taking me to an aerial ribbon dance studio every once in a while?—”
“I am,” Creed interrupts, but I keep going.
“Then I’m going to need to go by Viper to pick up some of my costumes.” I lean back, crossing my arms over my chest. “Tank may be a greedy, slimy bastard who thinks I owe him an insurmountable debt, but those costumes are all mine, and I’ll be needing them to practice my routines.”
Riley visibly swallows next to me and Creed actually has the nerve to look guilty before wiping it out and replacing it with an artfully placed mask of cool and casual indifference at the mention of me returning to Viper. I don’t know who the hell he’s trying to fool, but maybe he forgot that I’ve known him my entire life, and I can see the rage simmering just behind his mask, clear as day.
“You’re not going back to that shithole.” He blurts, staring me dead in the eyes.
“Why not?” I demand, keeping up the fa?ade that I haven’t figured out what he was up to after the meeting today with his manager. While I’m truthfully relieved that I don’t have to go back to the club, it still pisses me off that Creed thinks he can take it upon himself to handle my problems. I’ve handled myself for fucking years , even before I turned eighteen and started life on my own. He needs to learn that if I’m going to even consider living with him from now on, there are boundaries I will not allow him to cross, and making decisions for me is a hard one.
He rolls his lips together while rubbing his hand back and forth across the stubble that’s grown there over the last few days, no doubt trying to formulate the perfect excuse.
Fuck, he should not look this good all the damn time.
A smidge of hurt flips through my stomach because as much as I pine after him, he’s drawn the line between us again. I’ve loved this man for practically my entire life, but if that’s a boundary that he’s set, I’ll hate it, but I respect it. I’m not a pushy person. I know what I want, but I also know when to fade into the background if that’s what it takes for someone else’s happiness to bloom. I’d do that over and over for Creed. It’ll break me, but his happiness is all I’ve ever wanted. Even if it’s not with me.
I expect him to give me a no-bullshit, snarky response, but he surprises me when he moves around the island and takes the last seat on the other side of me at the island, and places his large, tattooed hand over my shoulder and rubs down the side of my arm, goosebumps rising in the wake of his warm touch. His ice blue eyes soften and his voice is low and gritty when he finally speaks, “Because I went there today. I went there with the intention of quitting that job for you. I won’t ever apologize for it either. I’m not going to act altruistic and say it was all a selfless act. I wanted to look at him with a smug fucking grin on his face, and to see the look in that fucking twat’s eyes when I told him that you wouldn’t be returning, ever , and that there was no fucking debt you owed to him. Yes, I know it’s an asshole move to even do such a thing without even asking for your permission, but I know what I fucking saw that night. The way you began shaking before mentally checking out when that motherfucker started spewing those words to and about you.”
I open my mouth to tell him to shut his before he says too much that I’m not ready to divulge, but he squeezes my arm once, not hard, but firm and reassuring. “Only when you’re ready. If you're ever ready. I’ll listen.” He says so softly I’m not even sure that Riley hears him on my other side.
“Okay,” I whisper back, my anger and frustration quickly evaporating.
“Anyway, Bear and I were fucking reveling in him going purple in the face with rage until he thought he’d get the upper hand and start running his mouth about you again. I didn’t even hear what he said before I fucking laid into him again, giving his broken nose a matching set of black eyes.”
“You did not,” I laugh once.
“Apparently he has zero tolerance for pain because two hits and his ass dropped like a sack of shit, again . Jett busted into the room, again , and I shit you not when I say he just rolled his eyes at me.” He says, and I’m full-on laughing now, causing Riley to laugh along with me and Creed’s lips pull at the corners as he fights the urge to laugh, too. The whole situation is a fucking mess because Creed and Bear could get into trouble for assault, but the thought of Tank, the asshole with a tough name, being a pussy in a fight is just hysterical. Once I’ve calmed down a little he continues. “After we filled Jett in on what we were there for, he nodded and introduced us to a coworker of yours named, I don’t know, Cozy or some shit?”
“Coco.” I correct. Coco is one of my favorite human beings in the world. She taught me so much and though we never hung out much after work, she became someone I could rely on and we watched over each other the best we could on the nights that Jett wasn’t assigned to our private VIP rooms. She’s also crazy fucking beautiful. Easily one of the prettiest women I’ve ever seen. An entire head taller than me, beautiful bronzed skin, long silky black hair, and nearly amber colored eyes. So, basically the opposite of me in every way. My stomach turns as I wonder what Creed thought of her when he saw her last night.
“Right, well I was eager to get the fuck out of there, so I couldn’t even tell you what she looked like, let alone how to properly pronounce her name,” he says, waving a hand as if he hadn’t even deigned to pay her any attention. I know it shouldn’t, but it fills me with satisfaction at his dismissal of Coco. “Pretty sure Bear’s in love now, though. He talked about her all the way home. It’s the most animated I’ve seen him in years.” He says with a chuckle but continues like that revelation is no big deal. “Anyway, she helped us gather all of your stuff. Costumes, wigs, face paints, and the fucking sparkliest and tallest high heels and boots I’ve ever seen.”
I smirk at that. I love my tall glittery heels. I don’t wear them often because they’re a safety issue with aerial ribbons, but when I did pole routines, they sent me on a goddamn power trip. I haven’t worn them in months though.
I shake my head, ridding myself of the nightmare that lingers in the back of my mind.
Bringing myself back to reality, I know I wanted to be pissed at what Creed did. Hell, I was. But as much as I loved dancing, I hated Viper with every fiber of my being. I hate Tank, I hate the men who believed that they could touch me and take advantage of me like I was some possession they paid for, that I was some emotionless doll for them to toss around. I hated most of the ass-kissing women who turned a blind eye to the abuse of their boss, and how he hurt the rest of us who worked alongside them and dared to challenge authority.
I wanted to be mad at Creed, but when I think about all of the bullshit I lived through every day, all I’m filled with is utter relief that I never have to go back, because Creed did that for me. He made that sacrifice for me . He risked the bad publicity to make sure I’d never have to set foot anywhere near the club, or Tank, or his disgusting VIP members again. Tears prick at the back of my eyes at the realization that he made half my problems disappear in one day.
I lean over in my stool and wrap my hands around his neck, hugging Creed tightly. He wraps his arms around me tightly and just holds me. “Thank you.” I whisper into his neck. I hear Riley sigh behind me, and it sounds like he’s relieved at the outcome of this conversation.
That little shit probably knew what Creed was doing, didn’t he?
Honestly, I can’t be mad at either of them. Not right now.
“You don’t have to thank me.” He murmurs against my hair on top of my head. “I told you I would take care of you. I won’t fail you on that promise again, Stardust .”
“Still,” I say, pulling back to look at him. I’m sure my whole face is puffy from holding back the urge to cry, and his eyes slide down to my mouth before climbing back up to meet my eyes. My stomach flips but I push down the feeling and smirk at him as I say, “You should shower, you stink like stale beer and sweat.” He doesn’t. But I had to tease him before venturing into a territory that created too much tension between us.
“Shit, I’m sure I do, okay.” He says, releasing me and scooting off the barstool. Stopping in the entryway to the kitchen he turns back to me and says, “You forgive me for being an overbearing alphahole?”
I want to snark back at him, but I hesitate when I see the sincerity in his eyes, behind his teasing tone. The silent plea for me to not be mad at him for taking my decision away from me. “Yeah, Creed.” I say softly. “I forgive you. Just don’t do that shit behind my back ever again.” I shoot a half-hearted glare at him and he sends me a wicked smile that says fat fucking chance before disappearing. Once he’s gone, I turn to Riley, who looks guilty as hell.
“You knew.”
He winces, his shoulders slumping. “Don’t be mad, please?” that kicked puppy look in his sweet brown eyes is threatening to make me melt into a puddle on the floor. “I swear Creed’s intentions came from a good place in his heart.”
Still melting.
I cross my arms and try to scowl at him, but he makes it really, really impossible. “And what about you? ”
He shrugs and gifts me with a shy smile that pulls wide on one side, exposing those canines. “I just wanted to spoil a pretty girl.”
Both of our faces flush a bright red, the freckles becoming more prominent behind the blush of his cheeks, as I’m sure mine are doing just the same. It’s one thing to be called ‘hot’ or ‘sexy’, but there’s something about a sweet, shy, handsome guy calling you ‘pretty’ that does things to my insides. Specifically between my thighs.
I feel a little guilty for feeling such a reaction to Riley simply calling me pretty, but I can’t help it. I’ve spent the last two years being catcalled and named all kinds of nicknames and pet names that I absolutely despised, but ‘pretty’ wasn’t one of them.
I tilt my head to the side, studying him. Though I’ve only known him for a few days, it truly feels like a lifetime. Riley is someone that anyone could easily love. Not just fall in love with, but to just love him as a human being. He’s so funny, so kind, attentive, caring, selfless, and he’s so damn smart and talented. Not to mention he’s insanely attractive. His messy auburn curls atop his head, his deep brown eyes, the freckles that smatter perfectly across his face, that fucking irresistible fae prince smile, and I’m not going to touch the subject of his chiseled body, because… damn.
“You know,” I start, “if you haven’t already, you’re going to make a girl very happy one day.”
Riley blushes intensely and looks away, picking at a stray string on his destroyed black jeans, and suddenly he looks incredibly uncomfortable after what I just said. My gut clenches, knowing that I just caused this reaction and I’m about to apologize when my phone buzzes with a text. Immediately the hairs on the back of my neck rise and I tense because I can count on one hand the number of people who have access to my phone number. One of which I can’t get rid of, but unfortunately I can’t afford to open a new phone line.
I flip my phone over from where it sits on the counter with a shaky hand and the screen lights up when I tap it.
1 new text message from Unknown .
I hold my breath and swipe to open it. I stare at my screen in shock as I read and re-read the text message over and over.
Unknown: You know I love those fishnets you wear, but you’ll look so fucking good for me in this little number, too.
Below the text is a grainy image of me trying on a new swimsuit since I didn’t own one. Riley had insisted since we stop by several lakes, beaches, and hotels with private pools during the tour. I had chosen a one-piece but it’s not modest. It’s a sheer, see-through black with a high-cut hips and a high neckline, but a winding and coiling snake pattern is embroidered throughout the swimsuit, the body of the snake covering my tits and lady bits. There are three buttons down the back that I couldn’t reach and needed Riley’s help to clasp.
That’s when this image was taken because my back is facing the camera as Riley fumbles with the buttons on the suit.
Another text pops up as I analyze where the hell this photo was taken from.
Unknown: What I don’t love, is this little fuck head putting his hands all over you.
I blanch at his words. Another picture pops up. This one is from earlier when Riley had bear-hugged me ‘til I felt better. We’re both laughing as he walks me backwards down the walkway of the mall. It would be a cute picture of us if it wasn’t sent by one of the foulest men on the planet.
Another text.
And another.
And another.
And another.
Unknown: He ever fucking touches you again…
Unknown: *knife emoji* *skull emoji*
Uknown: You belong to me, Collins Weston. You thought you could outrun me. But I’ll always find you. One day, I’ll bring you back to where you belong.
Unknown: And I can’t wait to paint your skin in those beautiful bruises over and over and over again.
“Collins?” Riley says, his voice panicked, followed by a clattering sound, a loud bang, and then…nothing.
I’m suddenly lost in a memory. One of Guy and the days that he would slip into my room after I fell asleep. The night he straddled my body, pinning my arms to my sides with his knees, the smell of his strong cologne floods my senses and all I can see are his crazed hazel eyes staring down at my helpless body; a sick, sadistic smile on his face. The feel of the tape he’d stretched across my mouth so I couldn’t yell out. He started taping my mouth when I refused to scream for him, not realizing it’s a physical impossibility for me. He always found some way to punish me for it, too, like I had a fucking choice. He said he loved the way my skin came to life for him. He loved the way my pale skin bruised under his touch.
The memory of the summer I turned seventeen and had to wear fucking hoodies and jeans all summer because his favorite method of bruising had become squeezing me as hard as he could. It was disgusting the way it fascinated him. He’d started with grabbing my upper arms until I had the bruising streaks from between his fingers and the crescent moon shapes that scarred my biceps from digging his nails in. He did the same to my inner thighs, and I had vomited through the tape the night I noticed he was fucking hard while hurting me. I had kicked him in his dick but he snatched my foot and squeezed until a sickening crack sounded throughout the room.
All I hear are my own screams through the now soiled and sodden tape, his prideful laughter at his accomplishment of breaking my foot, the feel of his fist meeting my ribs and cracking two of those, too. His voice in my ear… “ you tell anyone, I’ll fucking kill you. And them. I’d rather not lose my favorite play toy.”
Suddenly the memory morphs and it’s like I’m on the outside of my body as I watch Guy stand over my body, his back to me, a knife in his hand. I cry out as he raises it over his head and plunges down, hard. I throw myself forward as the knife pierces flesh and that’s when I see his sweet, yet lifeless brown eyes staring blankly back at me, blood trickling from his mouth in a permanent grimace.
Riley.
“ No!” I scream, my voice breaking, “No, no, nononono.” I scramble over to him, but suddenly I’m flipped onto my back.
“ Collins ,” I hear my name being hissed, hands grabbing at my body. My vision has gone black, but I punch and kick to get him off of me.
I won’t allow anyone else to pin me down, to ever hurt me again. So I fight. I lash out and scrape my claws down my attacker’s face, feeling the slick of their blood dripping as I do it again.
“ Ow, Jesus fuck , Collins look at me, please!” A new, familiar voice hisses and pleads and yells my name again.
“Creed! Creed!” the voice yells and I momentarily pause at the familiarity of the name.
Creed? Creed is gone, he didn’t want me and I’m on my own.
Suddenly my body is lifted, supported by two strong arms.
I’m being taken away.
Panic claws at me and I start to fight again, pushing against the hard chest I’m cradled against to get free. I fight and fight, making it difficult for anyone to take me away where I’ll be tied down, where I’ll be taped and bound and utterly stuck, where I know I won’t be able to fight as hard to get free. My vision is still gone, but I fight like hell. Curling my fist, I land a solid blow to what I think is a jaw and both me and the person trying to take me both tumble to the ground.
A string of curses and the sound of a door swinging open flood my ears. More images of Guy coming after me flash through my mind as footsteps pound down a set of stairs.
“What the fuck is going on?!” I hear another voice shout. It, too, sounds familiar. “Ri, Jesus Christ what happened?”
Ri? Riley is gone, too. Guy took him away.
I sob at the vision of Riley’s lifeless body, his eyes vacant. Pulling my knees to my chest, I begin to rock back and forth, softly singing my favorite David Bowie song. Trying my hardest to escape the hell I’ve found myself in.
“ Stardust ?” I hear the second voice call softly. The nickname makes my words falter.
“C-Creed?” I call out, my vision slowly returning as my heart rate slows and my mind returns to the present. “W-what ha-happened?” I hiccup and sob through the tears now streaming down my face.
Calloused fingers grip my cheeks firmly, the rough pads of thumbs sweeping gently over my cheekbones. I jump at the contact. “Hey, shhh, it’s okay. It’s me. It’s Creed, Stardust . You’re safe.”
Safe? I’ll never be safe as long as Guy is out there fucking haunting me with every step I take. I’m only just now realizing that I can’t fight this alone. I don’t want to.
The last of the blackness finally recedes and Creed’s devastatingly handsome face comes into view just inches from mine. “Creed.” I rasp, my voice now gone from trying to scream earlier.
“Yeah,” he whispers, a small, sympathetic smile graces his lips, but doesn’t meet his sad eyes.
He continues stroking my cheeks in soft circles until I have enough wits to take in my surroundings and bring my brain back up to speed on reality. I take a look around and see that we’re in the hallway on the main level, just beyond the staircase that leads to the bedrooms. Just behind Creed, Riley props himself up, his back leaning against the wall and he groans and hisses when he wipes at his bloody cheek.
Riley.
Riley is… not fucking okay! Holy shit, what have I done?!
“Oh my god!” I cry as I maneuver around Creed, scrambling to get to him like a clumsy, newborn baby deer. He flinches when I grow near. Fucking flinches , and I hate myself for it. “Riley, I?—”
A horrible motion clogs my throat as I take him in. He’s got two gnarly gashes on his face that are bleeding, the blood running down his chin and dripping onto his chest and into his now-ripped band tee. One runs down the side of his face, from the lower corner of his left eye, stopping just above the sharp edge of his jaw. Another on the same side, but this one is horizontal, nearly touching the first vertical cut, trailing under his eye, and stopping just before the bridge of his nose. That one is jagged and I can see the skin hanging loose next to his nose. The blood drains of my face and I feel like I could faint when I see what I did to Riley. My entire body fills until it’s overflowing with such intense shame and regret.
There’s another red mark and some swelling on the left side of his jaw where I assume I landed that last punch. I’ve never lashed out during an episode before. I sit back on my ass, my hands out in front of me in surrender, not wanting him to think I’m a threat to him anymore. My eyes swell with tears, overflowing and spilling down my face. He reaches up and touches one of the cuts and hisses. A loud sob leaves my lips at the sound and sight of him, and I hear Creed shuffle up behind me before placing a hand on my shoulder.
Riley’s eyes finally meet mine and it’s like life shoots back into him because he’s off the wall in a second and kneeling before me. He doesn’t touch me, but I can feel the worry and wariness radiating off of him.
“Are you okay?”
Am I okay? Abso-fucking-lutely not.
“I…I am n-now.” I rasp. The marks on his face look so much worse up close. More tears fall. “God, Riley,” I reach a slow, tentative, and shaky hand toward him and he allows me to cup his jaw, the warm stickiness of the blood there not even fazing me. “I am so sorry. I didn’t know it was—I didn’t see you. I-I’ve never h-hurt anyone during an episode before. This time, it…it felt like he was here . And it was h-him t-touching me. Not you. ”
I’m gasping now, fully panicking as I stare at the calamity I’ve caused. I wrap my arms around my knees, making myself as small as possible, trying to shrink down into nothing. Become nothing. Squeezing my eyes shut does nothing to ease the pain I’ve caused because Riley’s torn-up face is burned into the forefront of my mind. The pain in his eyes. Not just physical, but the emotional pain and turmoil feels like a dull knife twisting deep into my heart. I’ve only known him for a few days and now he probably hates me. Thinks that I’m some head-case and loose cannon who’s one meltdown away from being admitted to a psych ward. I whimper and whisper I’m sorry repeatedly, hoping one of them slips through the cracks and gets to Riley. My heart clenches hard at the thought of hurting and losing someone so new yet already so important in my life.
A small yelp escapes my lips when I’m suddenly lifted into a lap and I’m drawn close to a chest. A chest that smells faintly like the leather of his jeep, mixed with his unique spicy cologne and the faint metallic tang of blood. Strong arms wrap around me and rock me back and forth. The man I assaulted is the one comforting me.
Oh, Riley.
He coos soft words into my hair and shushes me quietly, one hand gently stroking through my tangled hair. Just when my body starts to relax, I feel another set of arms snake around both me and Riley, hugging us tightly. Creed’s distinct scent is next to flood my senses and it feels like coming home…it feels complete. Right. Being wrapped up and surrounded by the two men who have shown me more care in three days than I’ve been shown my entire life since I was ten.
After a long, quiet moment, Creed pulls away and brushes the wet, sweaty hair from my face and tucks it gently behind my ear. “Come on,” he says, tugging at my hands to loosen them from my own death grip on my knees. “Let’s get you two off the floor, and we can all go to my room. We’ll get Ri all cleaned up and get you settled, and if you’re feeling up to it, we’ll talk.”
I don’t say anything as he pulls me upright and steadies me with an arm around my waist before we each offer Riley a hand to stand. I can’t even describe the relief I feel when his hand slips into mine without hesitation. It gives me a spark of hope that I haven’t driven him away completely.
Once inside Creed’s room, Riley insists I take a shower before he lets anyone tend to his wounds and despite my protests, they win. The moment I step out of the bathroom, dressed in the fuzzy pajamas that Riley had picked out for me, Creed wastes no time in tucking me in on the same side of his bed that I’ve been sleeping on, even pulling a weighted blanket from his closet, and draping it over me. Shit, I must be really out of it after this last dissociative episode because the weight now pressing against my body feels nothing short of fucking divine.
I doze off and on, my body now exhausted but warring with my over-alert brain desperately trying to stay awake to make sure that Riley is okay and doesn’t completely hate me after what I’d done to him.