35. Lily
35
LILY
W hen I pull into the driveway, I find Slash sitting astride his Harley inside the open garage. Not sure if he’s coming or going, I grimace, then avert my gaze from him as I park in my spot. Once stationary, I switch off the engine. Bang my forehead against the steering wheel three times. Curse the fact that men exist.
Can you imagine a world without men?
God. The possibilities are endless.
No more grunts masquerading as communication.
We could venture outside at night without pepper spray.
I would get used to eating pussy eventually, I’m sure.
Although I know I don’t really mean it, the idea of a man-less world perks me up a bit. Until I realise that it’s a pipe dream. Still, after months—no, years—of aggravation caused by possessors of XY chromosomes, I’m ready to take the veil or accept Nadia’s offer to experiment with her.
“Not tonight,” I pray out loud when the kickstand of Slash’s Harley scrapes along the concrete floor. “I can’t deal with both of them in one night.”
The epiphany I had while Zeke kept me trapped on the dresser haunts me. I need time to deconstruct it. Space to weigh up the implications. Yet, the sound of knuckles rapping against my window alerts me that my prayer is going unanswered. Slash is choosing tonight to break his three-month streak of avoiding being caught alone with me.
I roll my eyes.
Of course he is.
The universe always gets the last laugh.
I really should be used to it by now.
Fucking men.
“Duchess?”
I throw myself against my seat then hit the button to lower my window. “What do you want, Slash? I’m kinda busy having a meltdown here.”
“Over Venom?”
Rolling my eyes at his obvious jealousy, I reply sarcastically, “He is on the list.”
After a soft sigh, Slash pulls the car door open and squats down to my eye level. “Am I on that list?”
“You don’t have to be.” The tentative smile I give him wobbles off my face as the leash I have on my feelings breaks. “I want us to go back to normal, but that won’t happen when you’re actively dodging me. I’ve driven you out of your own home, and I don’t know how to fix it when my money’s been stolen by Dad.”
“Fuckin’ hell. I had no idea.”
“How could you? I barely see you, and when I do, you act like we hardly know each other.”
“Let’s fix that, right now.” Slash grabs my hands and pulls me out of the car. He leads me through the garage door into the kitchen. Hands on my hips, he deposits me on a stool at the breakfast bar. After flicking on the kettle, Slash leans, facing me, with his elbows propped on the countertop that separates us. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s got you meltin’ down. Start with Brutus stealin’ the money your mum left you.”
“Not just mine. Sander’s. Fret’s. Both of the boys. It’s all gone. Drained. He’s the only one with access to our accounts, and it’s his signature on the withdrawal slips.” I shudder at the memory of finding Dad’s distinctive scrawl on the authorisation to empty and close our trust accounts. “It’s a mess, but we’re coping. Sander’s paying the co-payment for Fret’s rehab. He’s prepaid a year’s worth of Wyatt’s university courses. He’s handling all that on top of paying his own bills. Nate’s still in high school, so he doesn’t know that he has no way to fund his future right now.” After a heavy exhale, I admit, “I’m getting by on what I earn from my job, which isn’t much since I’m only a third-year graduate… definitely not enough to get a place of my own without help.”
The kettle boils. Since my caffeine addiction never returned to the same level after the miscarriage, Slash makes me a green tea with the perfect dollop of honey, then slides the mug over to me.
“I don’t want you to leave.”
“You have a funny way of showing it.”
Slash ducks his head. “I was embarrassed. A little mad at you… more pissed at myself for pushin’ you like that.” He raises his gaze to mine. “I let Bebe get in my head, but it’s not all on her. I’ve been in love with you for years. Just pushed it down because you and Venom seemed like endgame.”
“Well, I can tell you that it’s more Hunger Games than endgame after tonight,” I quip. Dropping his gaze, I tilt my face toward the ceiling as I confess, “After you left, I kissed this guy Nads set me up on a date with, and Zeke dragged me off the bar. Like, I know I shouldn’t have done it, but he pissed me off with his macho man act. Sure, I had a mini freak-out after the guy touched me…” Leaving the full extent of my triggered episode unsaid, I blow out a long breath. “But, anyway, we got into it, and I told him that I heard the recordin’ of his deal with my dad.”
“What did he do?”
“What we both do when things get hard between us. Apologised. Even threw in a little bit of grovelling when that didn’t work. Made a promise to fix things. The usual.”
Concern clouds Slash’s eyes when he asks, “What did you do?”
“Told him I’ll never fuck him again, then showed him my new scars. It was mean as hell, but he needed to know that I’m serious about being done with him.”
“Jesus.” An emotion that looks suspiciously like relief flits across his handsome face, then he whistles long and low. “Bet that went down like a lead balloon.”
I shrug. “I can’t wait for him forever... fuck me, he told me to move on. Of course, the moment I do, he wants back in.” Swinging from side to side on the stool to loosen the agitation that’s gripping me, I divulge my main frustration. “I don’t know what he wants from me… It’s been six months since everything fell apart, and it’s not like I hopped on the first dick that was waved at me.” Realising what I just alluded to, I pick up my tea and take a sip. With the mug obscuring the lower part of my face, I tell him. “I tried to stop it getting to this point, Slash. Everyone knows that. He doesn’t get to change his mind after so long, and expect everything to just go back to normal.”
“I doubt that’s what he expects.”
Eyes wide, I ask, “You’re defending him?”
“No.” Slash blushes and drops my gaze. “I just understand where he’s comin’ from.”
“Well, yay for you, I guess… ’cause I don’t understand any of it. My entire world has fallen apart, and I don’t know why... which makes it pretty damn difficult to fix anything.”
My admission seems to take on a life of its own.
It expands.
Fills the room to the point where I feel like it’s crushing me.
Seemingly unaffected, Slash grabs a beer out of the fridge. He cracks the top off on the edge of the bench, then slides onto the stool next to mine. After a long pull, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and says, “Hunter said somethin’ tonight that hit home for me… he called the love you and Venom share the forever kind.”
“ Oh. ”
“Yeah.” He bumps his shoulder into mine. “Now, I don’t necessarily agree with his assessment, but it made me realise that if I’m feelin’ the way I am after touchin’ you once, I should probably cut Venom some slack while he tries to get past nearly six years with you. By the same token, that means I need to leave you alone too.” When I open my mouth to protest that we can still be friends, he talks over me. “I pushed you too hard. Came on too strong; too fast. Took advantage of your broken heart because I was impatient… Duchess, you’ve got half a decade of history with Venom—actually, you have a lifetime with him to get past before you can even think about startin’ a relationship with me.”
I don’t have the heart to tell him that I doubt the day he’s waiting for will ever dawn.
Zeke is embedded in every fibre of my being.
I won’t choose between them.
I can’t choose between them.
But that millstone hangs from my neck, not Slash’s.
He’s already suffered enough for one lifetime.
“Does that mean we’re friends again?” It’s a ridiculous request, yet it means the world to me. I don’t know who I am without Slash by my side. Wilting under the strain of everything, my voice is barely audible as I confess, “I don’t want to lose you. Not ever.”
“Friends,” Slash tells me with a sharp nod. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, and no matter how this all plays out, I never will.”
Having heard that promise from Zeke more than once, I know that Slash is possibly setting us up for failure. Even so, I’ll take what he has to offer for as long as he’s willing to let me. I’ve lived through loss before, and I’ll live through it again.
No matter how much it hurts.
I’ve lost my mother.
My father.
Zeke.
If Slash ends up adding himself to that list, at least I’ll have good memories to keep me company.
“So, Netflix n chill?” he asks in the familiar smartarse way I’ve missed so much. “I’m dyin’ to find out whether Klaus and Elijah patch things up.” After bouncing around the end of the breakfast counter to riffle through the pantry for snacks, he emerges with a triumphant grin. Holding a bag of mini-Snickers aloft, he asks. “My room or yours?”
Although my stomach twists at the thought of sharing a bed with him again, I plaster a close-to-genuine smile on my face as I declare without thinking it through, “Your bed is bigger.”
We both freeze, then act like I didn’t choose to return to the scene of our biggest mistake.
Again, my epiphany tries to break into my consciousness.
I force it back into its box.
Now is not the time to examine my feelings for Zeke and Slash…
“All right, I’ll grab the drinks and change into something more comfortable,” I tell him as I head for the stairs. “You get yourself organised, then set up the sound system. I need Elijah’s delicious accent in surround sound.”
It takes me ten minutes to get myself sorted.
Another five to steady myself.
As I venture into his bedroom, refreshments in hand, I stumble over my own feet. Slash is topless. Thin sleep pants hang low on his hips. Averting my eyes from his pierced nipples and the new cherub tattoo over his heart, I see that he has the latest episode queued. Once we’re settled at the head of his bed with the covers pulled up to our waist and The Originals playing, I find myself stiffly staring straight ahead. My brain can’t comprehend what my eyes are tracking across the screen because I’m too scared of making the wrong move and destroying the equilibrium we just found.
“Duchess,” Slash calls me by the pet name that seems to have become a permanent fixture between us.
“Yeah?” I swallow the lump in my throat, then force myself to look at him. “Do you need something?”
Slash’s love for me, both platonic and so much more, glimmers in his eyes as he pats the mattress next to him, and holds up his arm. With a low growl, he demands, “Get over here.”
Like I used to, before everything changed between us and the truth was forced on me, I slide closer and snuggle into his side. He drops his arm around my shoulders and tucks me in tighter. Our chests lift, then fall in unison as we both start to breathe again.
“No more overthinkin’. Not about me. Not tonight or any night,” he admonishes me with a gruff tone. “We have all the time in the world for things to fall into place. Just gotta trust that they will.” His big hand ruffles my hair. “Look at me.” I lift my face to his. Slash presses the lightest kiss imaginable to the end of my nose. “I love you, duchess.”
I’m not lying when I tell him, “I love you too.”
Because Carter Hudson does own part of my heart. His portion is as big as the slice Zeke claimed years before I truly understood what it means to love someone as more than family, but I cannot deny that it belongs solely to him.
It’s knowledge that I am determined to keep to myself.
Because I refuse to make Slash feel second best.
He’s not.
Never will be.
My love for him is simply different from the love I feel for Zeke.
As different as the two men themselves.
Different but equal.
“I know,” Slash remarks. “It’s the reason I’ll never give up on us.”
I leave his confession unanswered.
What else is there to say?
He’s right.
I love him.
I love Zeke.
But my love will destroy their relationship if it becomes known.
Eventually, I push away my unwanted epiphany, and we settle into our usual routine. Laughing at Klaus’ trademark snark. Frowning when he lets his demons get the better of him. Rolling our eyes at Elijah’s eternal desire to meddle. Dissecting what we like about Rebecca’s outfit—I want her shoes, while Slash would like to know what it’d look like on his floor.
It’s good. Easy. Natural.
So natural that when my eyes start to get heavy, and my eyelids droop, I think nothing of giving in to my tiredness. We fall asleep together, my head on his chest, his arm around me.
When his alarm rings the next morning, he’s spooning me from behind. Slash pretends to stay asleep when I roll away from his morning wood to slip out of his bedroom. When we meet in the garage. Bemused and feigning denial. Slash is preparing to head to the compound while I’m hurrying to get to the office after Veronica texted me about an emergency meeting Gabriel has called for this Saturday morning.
After a moment of silence, we exchange wry smiles, then break into laughter. Little do we know, but it’s the last time either of us will laugh for a long time to come.