Page 24

TWENTY-FOUR

VALENTINE

M y mother’s hair was tugged into her usual sleek bun she tended to sport for all occasions. A glass of wine resting in hand as she lounged in one of her wooden chairs. She gave me a dismissive onceover as soon as she saw me, clearly still angry with me for missing our last get-together. Sighing, I moved to sink down into the seat adjacent to her.

A nice, warm breeze swept over me, and I followed her gaze toward the pond at the far end of her property. Ripples shot through the water, creating a small current in its wake.

“The weather is nice today,” she commented, bringing the glass of wine to her lips and taking a small swallow.

“It is,” I agreed.

Her lips were drawn tight, and the dark circles beneath her eyes were indication enough that she hadn’t been sleeping all that well. In truth, neither had I. All I could think about was pressing up against Rosalie’s soft, curvy body. It was something that should never have occurred. I knew that drinking at the asylum was idiotic at best, but still thought it was a better alternative than bringing the liquor home with me. The girl was gorgeous, but completely off-limits. This celibacy thing was turning out to be a real pain in the ass—not to mention the fact that she was a psychiatric patient.

Sighing, my shoulders dropped with defeat. “Do you have anything stronger than red wine?” I asked, motioning to her glass.

My mom raised her eyebrows in surprise. She’d been trying to get me to take her clubbing for a while, but who the hell goes clubbing with their mother? I always waved it off, telling her that I couldn’t drink so there was no point. Which was true. I’d remained sober until recently. The shit with Jordan was getting under my skin more than I cared to admit, and the stress of being alone only added to that.

“I think I’ve got a bottle of Jack in the kitchen,” she offered.

“Maybe in a bit.”

She arched a dark eyebrow. “You gonna tell me when you started drinkin again?”

Blowing out a breath, I looked out at the pond again. “Not much to tell. I had a few drinks the other day. That’s all.”

She stared at me for a long moment before humming thoughtfully to herself. “Very well. Keep your secrets.” She tapped her nails against the table positioned between us. “How’s Jordan doing? You talk to him recently?”

My blood heated at the mere mention of his name. I knew coming here would inevitably bring up that conversation, but I could only avoid this woman for so long. She could hold a grudge, and it was bad enough that I’d already missed our last visit. According to her anyway.

“Asylum life suits him.” My lips pressed tightly together as I grit my teeth, trying to refrain from badmouthing him to my mom. She adored the piece of shit for reasons I didn’t understand, and she was also the biggest gossip I knew.

My mother rolled her eyes. “Agree to disagree.” She reached for her pack of cigarettes on the table and tugged one out before placing it between her cracked lips. My nose scrunched up with distaste when she lit it, the smoke billowing around us instantly in thick plumes. The stench was almost suffocating. “I’m thinkin of visiting him for his visitation. When’s the last time anyone even bothered?”

My teeth scraped together, and I quickly glanced away. The urge to raid her kitchen, and down that entire bottle of Jack was sickeningly strong. She knew how I felt about my cousin . She knew what he fucking did. How could she sit here and talk about seeing him? She’d never been subtle about how she felt for my father, but there were still some lines a person shouldn’t cross—this was one of them.

“Why would you want to do something like that?” I asked, not bothering to hide the bite to my tone.

She gave me an incredulous look. “You’re kiddin’ me, right?” she demanded in her thick, southern accent. “He’s family. I’d do the same for you if you’d been the one who?—”

“This was a mistake.” I huffed, a surge of anger trickling through my veins. I needed to get the hell away from here before I said something that couldn’t be taken back.

My mom rolled her eyes as I stood. “No surprise there. Just like your good for nothin father. Always runnin when somethin don’t go your way.” A scoff fluttered past her lips. “I didn’t raise you to be so simple minded.”

White-hot rage burned through me, eliciting a fire deep in my gut that spread through my body like wildfire. “No,” I snarled in agreement. “You raised me to turn the other cheek.” I scoffed. “And you wonder why everyone waltzed all over you. You’re pathetic. Don’t call me again.”

She shouted something, but my feet were already carrying me toward my vehicle and I couldn’t hear her over the roaring of adrenaline in my ears.

As much as my mother pissed me off, I’d probably be right back over here next week. That was how our relationship worked. She said out of pocket shit, I blew up and threatened to drop her sorry ass, only to wind up in the exact same spot all over again. It was hard to let go of a family member when they were really the only person you had left.

I was on a downward spiral and had no clue how to stop it.

Noise echoed around me as I sat at the bar, my gaze pinned to the wooden counter as my fingers brushed absently around my glass. This was the last place I should have been, but the urge had been too strong—especially after dealing with my mother. The temptation to drink was becoming stronger and more frequent by the day. While I’d taken an oath, the ministry didn’t take it nearly as serious as some of the other sins—such as fucking out of wedlock. That was a huge one they turned up their noses on, and it would probably get me shunned if I so much as entertained the idea. If I couldn’t fuck the pain away, might as well drink it away.

With that thought in mind, I raised my glass, allowing the brown liquid to slide down my throat. The beverage warmed my chest, giving me exactly what I needed—even if it was only temporary.

When I drank, I didn’t give a shit about being alone. Nothing else mattered except for the warmth filling my veins and my dick that was hardening by the second. I’d take care of it when I got home as usual, and I’d wake up hating my life only to repeat the process. Sounded like a solid-proof plan to me.

My gaze settled on a woman seated further down at the bar. Her bright red hair was loose around her thin frame and her breasts were disproportionately large for her body. She was no Rosalie, but she was still stunning in her own right. My cock strained painfully against the inside of my slacks, begging for the one thing it couldn’t have.

The woman turned her head, folding her ruby-painted lip between her teeth as she raked piercing green eyes over me. I still knew what it felt like—to sink into a warm, wet pussy. To feel them wrap their arms around me and scrape their nails down my back. The glorious sounds they’d made as they lost themselves to the pleasure of it all.

I pushed out a ragged breath, bringing my beverage to my lips once more. There was no sense in dwelling on the past. That wasn’t my life anymore.

The music boomed all around me, but it seemed dull in comparison to the blood rushing downwards. A few couples had already taken up position on the dance floor, grinding against one another in a provocative manner.

On the other side of the bar was a group of people playing pool. Mostly men who were catching up and checking out a few of the women as they walked by.

The strong scent of cherries overwhelmed my senses as someone lowered themselves into the seat beside me, causing me to drag my gaze to theirs. It was the girl I’d been ogling not so subtly just moments ago.

“Hey.” She smiled, leaning against the bar with a confidence I didn’t possess.

I gave her a slight nod of acknowledgement. “Good evening.” Averting my gaze, I focused my attention on my drink instead. It wasn’t hard pretending it was the most interesting thing in the room, since there was no way in hell I’d be taking anyone home with me.

“What’s your name?” she pressed.

“Valentine.”

She was quiet for a few moments, and when she finally spoke again, I could hear the amusement in her tone. “You’re fucking with me,” she accused.

Sliding my gaze to her once more, I arched an eyebrow. “And what brings you to that conclusion?”

“Who would name their child ‘Valentine’?” she countered.

My lips twitched slightly. “Apparently my mother.” It wasn’t everyday a woman came onto me by insulting my name, and I had to admit, it wasn’t as much of a turn-off as one would expect.

Her eyes widened and she huffed out an embarrassed laugh. “That’s truly your name, isn’t it?” She shook her head sheepishly.

“I’m afraid so. But please, do tell me how unconventional my name is. I’m dying to hear your opinions on the matter.”

Her eyes sparked with intrigue, and she moved in closer. Her body heat drifted onto me, and for a weak moment, I allowed my eyes to wander—to drop down to her protruding breasts and admire the way they spilled from her neckline. She was a beautiful woman, and it was clear she used it to her advantage.

“It is indeed unconventional,” she agreed. “But I also find it unique, intriguing, and even… mysterious.”

“Mysterious?” I raised an eyebrow before taking another swig of my drink, holding it in my mouth for a moment longer than necessary as I contemplated how best to reply. “That’s one way of putting it, I suppose. I’ve given you my name. I think it’s only fair you provide me yours.”

“It would be, wouldn’t it?” She smirked, taunting me with those dark rimmed eyes of hers that bordered on sinful. “It’s Evangeline.”

“Interesting.” I placed my beverage on the bar, seemingly deep in thought when in reality I already knew what to say.

Evangeline tilted her head, a crease forming between her sharp eyebrows. “What is?”

“That you were comfortable making fun of my name when yours is just as unconventional .”

A giggle slipped past her defenses, causing my lips to twitch in amusement. She was indeed something else. Five years ago, I probably would have already had her naked by now. My smile faded instantly at the reminder. At this point, I was leading her on. It was clear she was after something, and I wasn’t able to provide it.

“My apologies. Maybe I can make it up to you somehow.” Her smile morphed into something seductive, and she dropped her gaze before dragging it back up in a slow, deliberate manner. She knew exactly what she was doing, and my balls were full on aching by now.

Swallowing, I averted my gaze for the second time tonight. “No need. All is forgiven.”

She hummed in response, and I nearly jumped out of my skin when she placed a slender hand on my thigh. “Are you sure? I’ve been told that I’m really good with my tongue.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“Then what’s the problem?” she pried, moving her hand toward the bulge in my pants. Before I could even think about stopping her, her fingertips grazed it, sending a shudder through my body. “You’re clearly turned on,” she added, pointing out the obvious.

I took her hand in mine, prying it from my body. “I assure you, my denial has nothing to do with you.”

Her eyebrows drew together in confusion. “Then what?—”

“I’m a pastor,” I answered. “I’ve taken an oath.”

Her lips parted in surprise, and she reluctantly withdrew her hand. “By oath… you mean an oath of celibacy, don’t you?”

“Among other things,” I confirmed, reaching for my whiskey again.

I knew when taking the oath that it wouldn’t come without struggle. I’d also thought it would get easier with time, and for a time, it did. But I was now unravelling at the seams, heading toward a downward spiral that seemed intent on destroying me. There was a constant tug-of-war within my mind, and drinking only seemed to heighten those urges.

Sighing, I returned my empty glass to the bar and turned to address the woman who had offered me the company I so desperately craved. “It was nice meeting you, Evangeline.”

She blinked up at me as I stood, drawing her lips into a tight line. “You as well.”

Stuffing my hands into the pockets of my black jacket, I strode toward the door and slipped outside. Stars peppered the dark sky, winking in and out of existence as I navigated the way toward my car parked near the side of the building. Slipping into the driver’s seat, I leaned against the headrest, absently reaching down to readjust my thickening cock through my slacks.

My eyes fluttered closed, and an image of blonde hair flashed within my mind. Blonde hair, blue eyes, an ass I wouldn’t mind spreading open and licking her from cunt to back. My breathing grew deeper from the mere thought alone. It was forbidden in more ways than one. She was a patient—mentally unstable and yet… she was the only girl invading my thoughts. Did that make me sick? Did that make me just as screwed up as Jordan, Seven, Archer, and all of the other patients occupying Brookhaven Psychiatric? My thoughts alone were enough to condemn me to eternal Hell.

My hands tore through my dark hair in frustration. I’d been good. Up until now, my lustful thoughts have been nonexistent. What was it about Rosalie Swanson that made me want to say, “Fuck it all to hell”, bend her over, and slide into that pussy I knew had to be fucking tight. Better yet, I wanted to strip her bare, impale her on my hardened length, and watch her large tits jostle as I drilled into her from beneath.

Jesus Christ.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Whipping out of the parking lot, my head spun with the assortment of thoughts warring against one another. Maybe alcohol hadn’t been such a good idea.

When I got to my place, I parked in the driveway and stumbled through the yard until I reached my front door. Jerking it open, I slipped inside, flicking on the light.

My thoughts were a jumbled mess as I navigated my way down the hall, not giving a shit how many lights I’d left on. There was only one thing on my mind—sleep. It was the only way to put these sinful thoughts at rest, the only way to stop thinking about her . I still remembered how she smelled when I pressed up against her, and how her body reacted to mine instantly.

Sighing, I stripped down, discarding my clothes on the floor in a sloppy pile before jerking back the comforter and burrowing beneath it. I needed to get my shit together before I did something I couldn’t come back from—like fucking her for example. Not that I’d ever let it get that far. Rosalie might have been breathtaking, but she wasn’t worth my job or oath.

Exhaustion settled heavily over me, lulling me to sleep. My eyelids became heavy and for a moment, they fluttered, only to snap back open again.

Any thoughts I was having about the pretty blonde girl relinquished, replaced by much more sinister ones.

Blood.

Jordan.

My father and stepmother.

Their baby.

My chest tightened uncomfortably. The scene was forever embedded into my mind. It wouldn’t go away, no matter what I did.

And my mother expected me to forgive him. She barely batted an eyelash when she heard what had happened. The bitch even offered to take Jordan in after he got the help he needed, as if any amount of help would ever be enough.

It would never be enough.

He could apologize to me over and over again, take an oath like I had, and nothing would ever erase the vile act he committed.

“You should be easier on him,” Mom had said one day, months after it had happened. “He’s just a messed-up kid. He’s sick, Val. You can’t hate him forever. He’s family.”

“Watch me ,” I’d replied.

And to this day, I meant every word.