18. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
My body jolts awake—my heart instantly in my throat at what it means if my aching back and thighs weren’t clue enough.
I’ve not been woken by my alarm for so long that I can’t remember when it was.
With Cleo, I think. Though the only reason I slept after being with her is because she made the whole thing so easy and not because I’d dreamed of… back then , or… him .
Not wanting to face reality, I blindly outstretch my arm and fumble around the nightstand until my hand lands on my phone. Retreating back under the sheets, I finally open my eyes and turn off the alarm, only for the screen to instantly fog up.
I’ve never understood that. How you can be so cold you’re shivering but drenched in sweat… Come to think of it, I can’t ever remember flashing back and waking up beneath my quilt. Or without knocking over my nightstand, for that matter.
Filled with hope, I toss back the covers and curse the morning as the air hits my still damp skin. But the cloud of unease bearing down on me overpowers any discomfort when I realize nothing in my room is out of place.
Maybe this time it was just a dream .
But why does my body hurt so much?
Looking down, I see a bruise forming horizontally across the front of both thighs between my tattoos. It’s not that dark, but it’s enough to know I’m not crazy.
Bewildered, I dash to the bathroom. From the side, I can’t spot anything, but as I twist to get a view of my back, pain shoots from my hip to my shoulder blade. Clamping my jaw shut, I push through it in search of another bruise until I spot—between the stripes of the tiger that covers half my back—lines of blue, yellow, and purple.
“What the fuck?!” I yell at my reflection, because none of this makes any goddamn sense.
How did I wake up tucked in but covered in bruises?
I’ve never put myself back to bed before. I’m either on the floor, against the wall, or mid-way through punching something so hard I shock myself awake.
I don’t think I can do this today.
I don’t think my mind will let me.
Not after my dream, or the kiss with Jesse.
Fuck…
The kiss…
Seldom has something so right felt so fucking wrong. Or, something so personally taboo been so absolutely perfect?
Jesse sparked something inside me that made me believe I could live a normal life, but my aching body is proof enough that I was selfish to think I could be happy.
I’ve wanted Jesse—a man—since the second I saw him.
He makes me hard.
He makes me feel alive.
He makes me want to do better. Be better.
But… for all of those things to be true, it means Dad was right, and I don’t think I can stomach that. I don’t know if I can see him sitting on the front porch in that shitty old recliner with a smug look on his face, laughing at me every time I kiss Jesse.
It’s too much. The physical and mental scars of my past are already enough for me to deal with.
No matter how much I want Jesse, I just can’t bear that yoke around my neck.
I can’t see him every day. Be tempted by him.
I need to distance myself and find a new pussy to fall into.
Fetching my phone, I bring up Alma’s number, but pause.
Swapping shifts is the right thing to do. Letting him move on quickly and start his year off all over again would be the best thing… For him.
I should let him go…
I should let him be happy…
But then, what about me? What am I left with? Nothing but a giant, gaping hole that used to be filled with sunshine, and freckles, and bright green eyes, and…
I don’t think I can go back to before him, either.
The emptiness of my stomach is the only thing keeping me grounded.
No breakfast, no coffee—I don’t deserve them. Just my own self-deprecating thoughts to keep me company as I wait in the staff room for Jesse.
No number of cigarettes would be enough to calm me for our unavoidable discussion, though no amount of money could tear me away.
Seriously? How in the fuck does he still manage to control me even when he’s not in the room? Even when I’ve decided we can never be…
The staff room door swings open and endorphins swell in my system.
Jesse’s hair is windswept and matted, and he looks like he didn’t sleep a wink. But everything wrong with the world feels right… For me… Everything wrong with my world seems right, and disdainful as it may be, I’ll do whatever I can to keep it that way.
Swallowing down my urge to tease him for his hair, I look purposefully at the clock and stand. “Better get in there. I don’t feel like getting a mouthful from Celeste this morning.”
“S-sure,” he stutters his reply, hesitantly taking a step towards me, only to stop when I don’t move. He wants my approval to come closer. He’s desperate for the validation that last night meant something.
Staring at his lips, I want to tell him that I can’t be trusted to make the right decision, so he needs to make it for me. He needs to make me his. He needs to shake some sense into me and show me why we’re right for each other. I want him to grab me, push me against the wall, kiss me again, and make all my pain go away. But that’s so fucked up. Because I’m fucked up.
Kai Tremblay; the gang-rape victim who wants to be dominated.
Who’s ever heard of something so sickening?
Tearing my eyes away from him, I walk out of the staff room before I spill my guts all over the table.
“Wonders never cease.” Celeste feigns surprise when I open the reception door.
“Gotta play by the rules sometimes.” I shrug, pushing past Wade to toss my phone in the drawer before nudging Celeste out of the way so I can log onto the computer she was using.
“Morning,” Jesse says cheerfully, but I can tell it’s not sincere. Even if he does back it up with a smile before he shuffles past Wade.
A beautiful smile.
A smile that should have been mine.
A smile that has Wade unapologetically checking him out and me feeling perplexingly homicidal.
“What’s up his ass this morning?” Celeste asks Jesse with a jerk of her head.
Wade looks at him with hungry eyes, hopeful for a crack. Anything. Even the tiniest chink in my hold over him as an excuse, because Wade likes straight boys. Cute ones. Ones whose ears turn red when they’re nervous. Ones he thinks he can turn.
“Maybe your flirting back got the better of him and he’s all nervous to be around you?” Celeste cackles like a fucking witch.
“Leave the poor boy alone.” Wade puts his hand on Jesse’s shoulder and I grab the stapler. “A sexual awakening can lay heavy on the mind.”
Yeah? And a stapler can leave a decent dent in your skull.
Not responding to either of them, Jesse leans forward on the counter and turns his head towards me.
Locking my eyes with Wade, who is mimicking Jesse’s position, I feel my nostrils flare and the vein in my neck pulse.
“Can you fuckers just piss off?” I snap, slamming the stapler down. “I try to get here on time so I don’t have to listen to your bitching, and instead I have to deal with Wade trying to fuck Jesse in front of me.”
Shocked, Wade takes a step back from Jesse. “I was only playing around.”
“I know a predator’s eyes when I see them.”
“Kai!” Celeste scolds.
“That’s rich, coming from you. And if you actually like him, it—”
“It would be none of your fucking business!” I snarl through clenched teeth.
“Okay. Okay,” Celeste interjects, holding up a hand to each of us. “We’re going. But you need to sort your shit out.” She points at me and pushes Wade out the door.
When I finally look at Jesse, his forehead is raised and his body language is crying out to hug me.
“This morning’s gonna be busy. More than yesterday.” I turn away from him and back to the computer screen. “Probably won’t have time to chat.”
“S-sure,” Jesse replies again. Except now, it’s laden with realization.