Page 31 of A Wreck, You Make Me (Bad Boys of Bardstown #3)

“That I want you to win,” Stellan says. “I want you to bring that trophy home. But I’m standing in the way of that.

I know. I can see it. I can see you’re in pain because of me and…

her. So that’s why I’m leaving. I’m leaving because I want to give you everything that is in my power to give.

You did the same for me. Now it’s my turn. ”

“Not her though,” I say, not as a question.

He still replies back as if it was one. “Not her.”

Something painful twists in my chest and I say, “I’m working on it.”

He frowns. “Working on what?”

Embarrassment niggles at the back of my neck. “Getting my game back.”

“What? How?”

By blackmailing a strawberry-haired girl into letting me fuck her.

Well, blackmail is a strong word. All I did was threaten her jobs that she works hard at but are really a dead end.

And every night, I use her inexperienced body against her by letting her dry hump me and making her come in my lap.

Which doesn’t sound so bad when I say it like that.

In fact, it sounds like a pretty good time.

Okay, so maybe I shouldn’t record her dancing and dry humping me.

But I only do it so I can watch it later on repeat and fuck my fist because she won’t let me fuck her pussy.

And because watching those videos help me focus at practice.

So much so that I don’t suck as much, not anymore.

I’m still not in top form but I’m getting there. She’s curing me. Like I knew she would.

And yes, maybe I also sneak into her room when she’s sleeping.

But it’s not as if she isn’t aware of it or doesn’t want me there, no matter how much she denies it.

She may be out like a light when I’m there, but she knows I come to her every night.

Because turns out, ever since I climbed through her window, I can’t stop doing it.

I can’t rest until I’ve made sure she’s safe in her bed.

And I can’t go to sleep anywhere else other than her armchair.

And again, yes maybe the money aspect may be dirty to some people, to her as well. But it’s for her own good. This way she doesn’t get her feelings confused when I end things with her once the season is over and all her problems go away too. Win-win.

While I have explanations for all of this, I can’t explain what happened about forty minutes ago.

That thing I felt right in the center of my chest when she said yes.

It felt like… Well, for the lack of a better phrase, it felt like my heart fucking skipped a beat.

Like my heart stopped for a few seconds, went still before jumpstarting and pounding like a goddamn maniac.

I’ve never had that happen before. I thought there was something seriously wrong with me.

I thought she finally said yes, and I was going to fucking pass out on her.

Maybe that’s why I haven’t left yet. Because she is still here.

So remember when I said I was nursing my second bottle of beer while looking out into the woods?

Well, I wasn’t. As in, I was mostly staring at the kitchen window.

Because that’s where she is. And I got the second beer because I’d already finished the bowl of strawberries I’d been eating while watching her, and I didn’t want to look like a creep standing in the middle of my sister’s backyard, staring at her window.

This way it looks like I’m enjoying a drink by myself.

I turn to the window now and there she is.

Her red hair and her cinnamon-freckled skin would give her away anywhere.

She’s laughing at something Callie is saying while taking a bite out of a cupcake.

A little frosting clings to her bottom lip and she licks it off with her tongue. I feel my gut clench and dick harden.

Tomorrow.

A low growl escapes me, and I wrap my hand around the side of my neck, rubbing the spot where she bit me.

The wound is still fresh and pulsing and I fucking hope to all that’s holy that the next time she bites, she makes me bleed.

So I can lick my blood off her lips like she just licked that frosting.

In fact, I will be licking that too. I will be licking all sorts of things off her body now.

She needs something licked off her skin, I’ll be the man for the job.

Maybe I’ll buy a pack of cupcakes to eat off her skin in celebration.

I’m definitely eating strawberries off her pussy.

Maybe I can also slather her in pancake syrup and slurp it off her body.

Actually, I should start a list of all the depraved things I want to do to her. It’s shocking I haven’t done so before.

“Does it have anything to do with the redhead you’re staring at?”

Stellan’s voice cuts through my thoughts, and I want to say I’m ashamed of sporting a hard on while my twin brother stands right beside me, but I don’t. I don’t much care, because she said yes. Not even her condition about getting me to talk. She’ll soon realize I’m not very good at it and move on.

I side-eye my twin for barging into my fantasies. “Could be.”

His eyebrows go up and it looks pretty comical, given Stellan never shows a single emotion on his face. “Is that so?”

“It is so.” Then, “But it’s none of your business.”

I’ll be damned if someone points a finger at her.

She’s already my personal porn star and now she’ll be my personal slut.

The least I can do is keep others from calling her the same.

Not that Stellan would judge. But I know how vicious and brutal the world can be.

So secrecy is of the utmost priority, both for her and my sake.

“Noted,” Stellan replies. “I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

“You better,” I say, still watching her through the window. She’s turned away now, talking to someone I can’t see. But from what it looks like, they make her happy because she’s laughing her ass off. I hope it’s not a guy. I know everyone here and I’d hate to break a friend’s face.

“I’m guessing you don’t want me to leave then.”

At this, I turn to my brother. “No.”

“So should I ease off on the calling and texting?”

“Can’t believe you’re texting these days.”

He shrugs. “Things change.”

“She changed you,” I conclude.

“Something like that.”

It’s bittersweet, this feeling, and I don’t hide it when I say, “I’m happy for you.”

“But you still want to beat the shit out of me.”

I clench my jaw. “Yeah.”

“Just so you know, you’re welcome to.”

I know that. I know he’d let me break his bones like he broke mine.

But I know that’s not what will get me what I want.

I need to move on, and there’s only one thing that could help me do that.

That girl inside the house talking to my sister.

In fact, my Little Strawberry is already cutting through the poison. So I know it’s her or nothing else.

“Just stay away from me. For a little while,” I say.

He watches me for a few seconds. Then, with a small lopsided smile, he goes, “So this is what it feels like, huh? Being pushed away.”

“You did it often enough.”

He nods, swallowing. “I will. Keep my distance, I mean. Until you tell me otherwise. Just…” He trails off on another swallow.

“Just know that I’m here. Always. Doesn’t make up for everything or maybe anything really, but you are the other half of my soul, and your other half may be shitty but mine is someone I’m proud of. ”

With that he leaves, and I get this urge to call him back. But I know it’s for the better. I’m not really sure what’s happening to me, but what I said is unfortunately true. I do need this distance from him to figure out how to fix myself.

I turn back to the window, and she’s gone.

Sighing, I decide to head back inside too.

I pass by the long picnic table, now devoid of all the food, and dump my beer bottle on it when I hear a sound.

A ringtone. It’s coming from the ground.

I look down and see a purse lying on the grass, as if dropped in a hurry. Jesus, Callie and her million friends.

Sighing, I pick it up and open it to retrieve the ringing cell phone.

Immediately my body tightens up because I see the face I’ve been sleeping to lit up on the screen, smiling, along with another redhead.

Must be her sister that she’s taking care of.

I focus on the ringing phone and as soon as I see a guy’s name flashing through the screen, I tense.

Jeremy. Who the fuck is Jeremy and why is he calling my girl so late at night?

I accept the call but before I can say anything, I hear a voice I haven’t heard in over a decade. A voice that used to strike fear into me when I was a kid, and anger when I grew up.

That same voice echoes in my ear right now as it says, “You fucking bitch, where the fuck have you been? You think you can ignore us? Ignore me? I won’t let you fuck up my life, you hear me? You’re not fucking up my life or I’ll fuck you up. I’ll fucking fuck you and your bitch mom up…”

I’d listen to his drunken rant more carefully if he wasn’t talking in circles, repeating the same thing over and over in different ways. Something he used to do when he lived with us, when he’d come home drunk and create a ruckus, throwing pots and pans, banging doors and windows.

But that’s not the point. The fucking point is why the fuck is my drunk, deadbeat, estranged for years father calling the girl I’ve been obsessed with since the moment I saw her a year ago?