Chapter 5 Creed #2
“Oh, you fucking asshole,” I spit, sending my uninjured fist flying into his right bicep. He groans at the contact, but the guy is so goddamned massive these days that I doubt the hit actually caused him any pain.
My dad would’ve ripped me a new asshole and buried me six feet under had she been any younger, not that I would’ve done a damn thing with her if she were still in her teens. He’d never even met her before, so I’m sure he was assuming the worst about our age gap.
We didn’t convene at my house very often, and when we did, it was so I could play music with my buddies when my dad was working and the garage was vacant.
“Her name is Collins, by the way.” I say when Asher’s laughter quietens. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you any of this sooner,” I apologize, turning back to my father.
Dad gets this weird, contemplative look in his eyes, and it takes a few seconds for him to fully process what I’ve said. He pales a little when something that looks a whole lot like recognition takes over his features. It has my brows pinching and I lean forward in my seat. “What?”
“I—years ago,” he starts, running a hand through his salt and peppered hair. I get my black hair from him, but he’s only recently started to gray a little on the sides and top. “I transported a young woman to the airport by that name.”
That gets both mine and Asher’s attention, and both of us sit up straighter at his admission. Asher asks, “What kind of transport? What did she look like?”
“Just a regular taxi service,” he answers, shaking his head, eyes becoming distant as he recalls whatever happened.
“It was dark out. Usually I don’t pay much attention to my regular taxi service rides, but I remember something hadn’t sat right with me when she left instructions to meet her up the street.
” He runs a hand over his scruff before clasping his hands tightly between his knees.
“I waited for several minutes and I couldn’t bring myself to leave.
Even up the street, I heard her distress.
I got out of my car to find her being crowded by a man about my age.
I was too far away to see her face, but I could feel the fear radiating off of her. ”
My stomach pitches as his story begins to fill in the missing pieces of the last night I spoke to her before she disappeared on me.
I swallow thickly as he continues. “This fucker had his hand around her throat, snarling something in her ear. I couldn’t just sit back and watch.
When I confronted them, he let her go, and I stood there long enough to let her safely get into the car. ”
The more he speaks, the more I’m certain it was her, but I have to know for sure if this was really a fucking weird twist of fate that it was my father, of all people, who helped her escape Guy’s clutches the first time or not.
Asher looks like a ghost beside me, learning more about the life Collins went through when he was trying to put himself back together.
His hands are shaking in his lap while he listens, so I reach over and take one in mine, giving it a soft squeeze before lacing my fingers with his, ignoring the way the motion makes my injured knuckles throb.
His eyes meet mine, and while he doesn’t smile or react, he gives a gentle squeeze, letting me feel the gratitude over the small gesture.
I look back to my dad and nod for him to continue, “What did she look like?”
He looks down at the ground, and a small smile tugs at his lips.
“A tiny thing. Quiet but sweet. Pretty. I didn’t see much of her on the ride to the airport, but when I helped get her suitcase out of the car at the terminal, that’s when I got a good look at her.
She had this mess of white hair on her head and these wild green eyes.
Ton of freckles.” He heaves a heavy breath as he lifts his gaze to mine and Asher’s, something in his eyes shifting.
“If the man she escaped wasn’t indicator enough, I knew she was running.
She was covered in random cuts and bruises.
She tried to hide them, but hoodies and sweats in the dead of summer don’t fool me.
Believe me when I say that nothing felt better than watching her disappear through those terminal doors.
She wasn’t a victim I was assigned to protect and help, but it was the best job I’d taken on that day. ”
“You saved her,” Asher rasps, his voice choking on the emotion clogging his throat. His hand tightens around mine. “You saved my baby sister, Garrick.”
My dad simply nods. “And I’ll help you do it again.
” He knows what Asher went through, but he had no idea what my best friend had to leave behind to get his life back on track.
I’m sure he’s pieced the timeline together by now, and I know he doesn’t blame Asher in the slightest. “However you need me, I’m there. Okay?”
Asher releases my hand and nods as he slumps to the side on the couch.
Dad looks at me after a moment and asks a question through a pinched expression that tells me he’d rather not ask at all, but curiosity must have gotten the better of him.
“Earlier…” he hesitates, “You just said…that you made them both yours.”
“Yes.”
He raises a brow. “And?”
“And what?”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means they are both mine to love and care for.”
“So what, you’re bi?”
“Are we really having this discussion, Dad? If you have to know, gender has nothing to do with my attraction for them.”
Dad has only ever loved my mother, but he never questioned my sexuality. I got really lucky in the parent department with him because he looks so unbothered and so unphased by this revelation. Is there some confusion there? Sure, but I know he’s not judging me.
“What about them? How do they feel?”
“My sister’s been gone for Creed since she first laid eyes on him.
Pretty sure she was the embodiment of the phrase ‘starry-eyed’.
This guy could do no wrong in her eyes.” Asher hooks a thumb at me and I laugh it off, but on the inside I’m fucking reeling.
I didn’t pay any attention to her crush when she was a kid, but hearing Asher speak so cooly about how Collins felt about me has me feeling some type of way.
“And what about this other guy? Riley, is his name?” Dad asks.
Deep brown eyes and curly, auburn hair take form in my mind’s eye and a sad, small smile tugs at my lips.
“Riley was still figuring things out for himself before everything went to shit, and I’m going to let him keep exploring himself for however long he needs.
I know he’s just as in love with Collins as I am, but I won’t deny that things also shifted between us recently, too.
I’ll never push him for more if it’s not what he wants.
Doesn’t make him any less mine, though. He’s familiar with my affections, and I will continue to love and care for him however he will allow me to.
“I love them both in equal but separate ways. I can tell that they love each other just as much as I hope they love me back. That is, if they can ever forgive me for this shit.”
He’s silent for a moment, letting all of that soak in. He looks like he wants to ask questions, but Asher is actually the one to speak up.
“I didn’t get it at first, either. But you honestly can’t put a label on this thing that they have going on.
They just are,” he says, using my words that I’d told him weeks ago.
I could kiss Asher right now if it wouldn’t be so fucking weird to lay one on my girl’s brother.
“Polyamorous is probably the best way to describe them, though it’s a little different from that, from what I can tell.
They all love each other equally, but differently.
My sister is happy with them, and I trust them to guard her heart and protect her, and that’s all that matters. ”
My heart squeezes in my chest when I look at my best friend. “How can you say that? I didn’t protect her. I failed her. Now she’s fucking gone. That psychopath has her again, and it’s entirely my fault.”
“It’s not, Creed. You did protect her. I protected her.
Though, if anyone is truly to blame, it’s me.
Somehow, one man was able to kill a dozen of my men and break into Collins’ bus without tripping any alarms, and they were long gone before I was ever even notified.
” Asher rakes a hand through his hair, the anguish evident on his face.
Dad opens his mouth to say something—probably to tell us to cut the shit and stop playing the blame game—when Asher’s phone starts ringing.
He flips it over in his lap, and I see the name flashing on the screen.
Callan.
Asher cuts me a look before he stands and walks into another room to answer.
Callan McTavish is a scary motherfucker and the head of the NorCal Scottish Mafia.
He’s been leading the search to find Collins and Riley.
He’s also the one who concocted the perfect story that bought us an excuse from having to perform the last two concerts.
A major media announcement by Ayla was published the night of the concert when Riley and Collins were taken.
Speculation had circled around Tony’s sudden disappearance. Nobody really knew Steve, but our label started questioning where they were and why Tony had been replaced so suddenly with Blair.
So we’d announced that Tony had a breach of contract when he was arrested for sexual assault.
It’s not entirely a lie, since he’s currently being held prisoner for sexually assaulting Collins and recording it before trying to use it to blackmail her with.
It’s just not a prison where he’s being kept, and he’s certainly not getting a cot and three warm meals a day.
But the public ate the story up, especially since we reiterated how “heartbroken” we are to learn this and that we do not condone his actions.
However, it’s the story of Steve dying from heart disease that had me nearly rolling on the ground with laughter, and I probably would have if my life wasn’t in shambles right now.
That is how we’ve been pardoned from the last two concerts and possibly for the rest of the tour we were supposed to complete for As We Stand.
Jake, their lead singer, got the bare minimum of details when I called to explain the actual situation to him, but he was still understanding of the whole ordeal.
So, as far as anyone knows, we’re all in mourning.
It’s bullshit. I can feel myself winding up, fury trying to take hold of my sanity again as I think about each and every motherfucker who ever hurt Collins and Riley.
I will make every single one of them suffer for their sins.
From Guy to Riley’s fucking cunt of a mother if she ever dares to show her face around me again.
Asher comes barreling down the hall and starts looking around frantically.
Instantly on high alert, following closely on his heels, my dad is right behind me, appearing equally concerned.
“What’s wrong?” I ask right as he snags my shirt from the floor and honest-to-god starts dressing me.
“Dude, what the fuck?” I swat at him, batting his hands away to shove my arms through the shirt myself.
“Asher!” I snap, but he’s not listening. He just grabs my wrist, drags me out of the room, and sweeps the hallway once before heading toward the elevator.
“What’s going on?” My dad asks when he steps in behind us. Asher swipes a card through a reader and presses the penthouse button.
Still, my best friend remains silent, but I can feel every intense emotion rolling off of him in waves. The thing is, I have no goddamned clue if what he’s feeling is good or bad. Something’s going on, and I’m about to flip the fuck out if he doesn’t start talking.
When the elevator dings and the moment the doors start to open, I’m being shoved forward, my bare feet slapping harshly against the cold marble flooring. Spinning to face him, I’m about ready to shake the shit out of him until he gives me answers. “Asher, what the fuck is go—”
“We found them.”