“Jesus fucking Christ.” Oakley holds up his hands. “Despite what you think, I’m not here to stir up any shit or cause problems.”
“Then leave,” Cole chimes in. “Now.”
“No,” I protest when he starts walking away. “Who are you?”
The look he gives me makes my heart clench. “No one.”
And then he’s gone…trekking up the hill that leads back to campus.
While I’m left trying to figure out why the dull, uneasy ache is back in my chest.
And why it disappeared when he was here.
“Someone better start talking,” I tell them. “Right now.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jace says. “It’s taken care of.”
If that was the case, this unsettling feeling wouldn’t be burrowing in my gut.
I look at Cole because I want to make sure I have the few facts I know straight. “You once said you had a friend named Oakley. Was that him?”
Cole’s jaw works. “Yeah.”
My gaze bounces between my brothers. “Then why do you two hate him so much?”
They stay silent…which pisses me off.
I look at Dylan next because she’s always been honest. “Dylan?”
I can tell she wants to cave, but the death glare Jace shoots her has her mouth clamping shut.
“Fine,” I say. “If no one is going to tell me what’s going on, I’ll just find him and ask—”
“Bianca,” Jace starts to argue as I walk away, but I’ve had enough.
“Screw you,” I scream. “One second I was eating lunch while talking to a nice, innocent guy and the next you attacked him like a crazy person yet refuse to tell me why.” Frustration rises in my throat. “You guys are clearly keeping something from me—”
“He’s not a nice, innocent guy, Bianca,” Jace seethes. “He’s the piece of shit who drove drunk and high with you in the car and almost killed you.”
Chapter 5
Oakley
Right break, left clutch—I remind myself as I straddle the Harley and stick a helmet on my head.
It’s been a while since I’ve ridden one, but it’s not long before it all comes back to me and I’m cruising down the highway.
I had no intention of ever driving again, but it turns out my dad was right the other day…the buses don’t run past seven in this town.
Given my shift ends at eight and the walk home to my new apartment is over two hours…I had to come up with a good solution that didn’t involve putting other people’s safety in jeopardy.
Just mine.
Fortunately, my dad’s favorite hobby was the answer.
Before he married Crystal, he was a big motorcycle fanatic who used to take his Harley out every weekend.
Hell, he loved his baby so much he taught me how to drive a bike well before he taught me how to drive a car. Therefore, asking to borrow one of his Harley’s was a no brainer.
The way I see it, if I crash into someone while I’m riding a motorcycle, the only person I’ll potentially kill is myself.
Ergo, it’s the perfect resolution.
Too bad I can’t seem to figure out one for how to deal with the Covingtons.
Or how to help her.
Jace says Bianca’s happy now…but she didn’t look very happy the other day.
Then again, her new life is none of my business.
Because it’s not my ring on her finger.
It’s his.
My chest coils as I speed down the highway, heading toward the campus.
She might love him now…
But she loved me first.
Even when I hated her.
Past…
Baby shower.
Showers for babies.
So fucking stupid. What kind of baby needs a shower when they aren’t even born yet?
A surge of pain permeates my chest.
A baby that isn’t mine.
Stumbling out of my car, I feel around my pockets for my house key but come up empty.
Fuck it. I’ll break a window and tell Mr. Covington a bird flew into it.
How could I ever love you? You’re such a screwup.
Crystal’s last words to me infiltrate my head.
Fuck that whore.
I loved her. Gave her everything I had left to give, but it wasn’t good enough.
She used me.
Then left me.
Just like my mother.
Frustrated, I pound my fist on the front door of the guesthouse, the world around me spinning like my own personal cyclone of hell.
Every woman I love ends up betraying me.
And I have no one to blame but myself.
I turn the knob, surprised when it opens. I must have forgotten to lock it when I left.
Staggering inside my apartment, I dump the contents of my pockets onto my kitchen table.
A lighter, my favorite orange bowl, a bag of Mary J—the only bitch I can trust—and some pills.
Without a second thought, I pop one in my mouth and swallow.
It’s only ecstasy so it’s not enough to fuck me up the way I need right now, but it will do.
Anything to take the pain away.
Anything to get me back inside my safe room.
The place where everything is all Gucci, baby.
The place where my demons can’t find me because I locked the door and threw away the motherfucking key.
It’s only then I notice a small figure buried underneath the covers on my bed.
I scan my brain, wondering when I invited Morgan to come play, but I honestly can’t recall.
Half a bottle of Jack and some E will do that to you.
I undo my belt and step out of my jeans, fisting my dick through my boxers.
“Hey, boo,” I greet her as I slide into my bed.
She doesn’t respond, but it’s okay.
I know a great way to wake her and my cock up.
Closing my eyes, I drape my arm over her body and cup one of her tits.
They’re firmer and bigger than I remember. Shit.
It’s not Morgan…
It’s Hayley.
The only girl in my life who didn’t leave me.
Because she didn’t have the chance. I kicked her the fuck out before she could.
But every so often—on nights where I’m really fucked-up—I rope her back in just to remind myself how my life could have turned out.
That I could have had a sweet girl.
That I could have been a good boy…
Just like my mom told me to be before she left me forever.
Groaning, I roll on top of her.
I need to get lost inside her so I can forget myself.
Her skin is so soft and creamy. A sweet apple scent invades my nostrils as I kiss down her neck.
She smells different—my brain registers, but I don’t care.
With the way I’m feeling, I’m liable to fuck the seventy-year-old lady who sells me my black and milds at the gas station.
She utters a low moan, her chest heaving as her hips buck against my cock.
Hayley’s not usually so forward, but I’m glad she’s not scared to take what she wants.
That makes two of us.
I tease one of her nipples through her bra.
Arching her back, she digs her nails into the back of my scalp.
Christ. That’s what I’m talking about.