Page 19 of Craving Consequences

EVERLY

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Van and Lachlan stand frozen in place, beers forgotten between hard fists. Their postures are deceptively calm, but their eyes ... God, their eyes.

They rake over me, slow and deliberate, taking inventory of every bare inch of skin I just exposed. There are no words spoken, yet their thoughts are weighted in their stares, saying everything.

It’s all so wrong.

I’m not this person, but I know these feelings are a recurring conversation in confessional every Sunday.

It’s my greatest shame. A sin no amount of Hail Mary’s will absolve me of because this need doesn’t stop with these fleeting moments.

They haunt me at night when I close my eyes and slip my hands beneath the covers because it is never Bron behind my eyelids.

It’s never his name I moan. I am a terrible person and when they watch me like they’re trying to physically brand me, I don’t know how I’m supposed to resist .

“What the hell are you doing?” Bron charges across the lawn with the wide-eyed outrage of someone catching me stripping down and giving a lap dance.

“What?”

My boyfriend reaches around and snatches my top free of my shorts and shoves it — hard — into my clavicle. The pain is momentarily jarring as the spot pangs where his knuckles have left bruises.

“Put your fucking shirt on,” he hisses. “You’re in public.”

I take the garment when he nudges it harder against me. “I’m wearing a swim top,” I point out, trying to keep my voice low. “It’s a million degrees and I’m sweating.”

Bron’s jaw flexes, a muscle ticking just beneath the shadow of stubble on his cheek.

“Are you trying to embarrass me?” he snaps, voice sharp and low enough that it feels like a whip crack meant just for me.

“You look like a whore, Everly. Everyone’s staring.

If you want to give my dad and Van a show, you can do it when I’m not around. ”

My stomach knots painfully.

The shirt dangles uselessly from my fingers, but under the brutal heat of Bron’s glare, I feel naked and exposed. I feel small and vile.

I drag the top over my head with fumbling hands, shame washing over me in a choking tide .

The fabric sticks to my damp skin, catching on my shoulders.

I keep my chin down, mortified and unable to meet anyone’s eyes.

“There,” Bron says tightly like I’m a misbehaving child he’s finally forced back into obedience.

His hand clamps around the back of my neck under the guise of something affectionate, but there’s nothing tender in the way his fingers dig into the base of my skull and yanks me close like he’s going to kiss me.

I know he won’t. He hasn’t kissed me in months. Maybe longer. I stopped keeping track.

Still, he turns his face into the side of my neck and I fight not to recoil at the hot brush of his breath on my already clammy skin.

“Don’t do that again,” he murmurs near my ear, low enough that no one else can hear.

“I don’t want others to see you like that.

” He draws back to smile into my face. “I’m trying to protect you, Everly.

I looked the other way when you wore those shorts, which are incredibly inappropriate, but I have to draw the line somewhere, right?

” He pulls away and the spot he touched prickles like a burn and I have to keep from rubbing it.

“You need to have a little more self-respect, you know?” he adds casually.

“You’re not Lauren. You’re not a slut who lets a new man fuck her every night. ”

My temper spikes at that. “Lauren doesn’t—”

“We’ve all heard the stories. The whole town knows she’s a whore. Bet she even takes money afterwards.”

I shove away from him. “That’s a disgusting thing to say, Bron. I know Lauren better than anyone and you better not be spreading those lies about her.”

He cuts a snort dripping with venom and hate. “She does the spreading without any help from me.”

“Stop it!” I hiss. “I mean it, Bron. Knock it off.”

“Or what?” All humor vanishes and a cold chill rips down my spine.

“What are you going to do, Everly? It’s the truth.

Everyone knows it, and they’re all talking about you because you’re her friend.

What kind of decent woman are you to associate with someone like that?

You work at the mayor’s office for Christ sakes. You should know better.”

I open my mouth to argue when a massive figure moves over Bron’s shoulder, interrupting whatever horrible thing he was about to add.

“Everything okay?” Lachlan glances from Bron to me and stays. His gaze is searching. Assessing in a way that leaves me raw and vulnerable.

“We’re fine,” Bron snaps, rounding on his father. “Just talking to my girlfriend, Dad.”

He spits dad like he always does, with a blade aiming to cut.

But Lachlan is only focused on me. “Everly? ”

With Bron monitoring my every reaction, every tick, I have no choice but to smile and nod. “Yes, everything is fine, Mr. Shaw. Thank you.”

He doesn’t say it because he’s a gentleman, but I know he doesn’t believe me when he cocks his head in his son’s direction.

“Set up the pit if you’re staying, or maybe turn in and calm down.”

He does nothing to conceal his disgust, and I know Bron hears it, too.

“Maybe that’s a good idea.” He turns cold eyes on me. “You can get out of those clothes up in my room.”

It’s the fact that Bron has never touched me, not even second base that has me too stunned to speak.

It’s not until he cocks his head in Lachlan’s direction, smirk glacial, that I realize the performance isn’t for me.

“You don’t mind if I take my girlfriend upstairs to fuck, do you?”

The fact that I can’t make out Lachlan’s features through the shadows gives me some hope that they can’t see the horror on mine.

Bron captures my fingers. The grip is a vise grinding the bones together. I cry out without thinking and that seems to fuel something in Lachlan because the next second, I’m torn from Bron and facing his father’s back.

“Go.” The single word is a threat, a promise dripping with poison. “Now.”

I can’t see Bron, but the venom is a palpable heat washing over me.

“Fine. Everly, let’s go.”

I don’t move, not because I’m being defiant, but Lachlan’s hand extends to stop me.

“Only you.”

Bron scoffs. “If I go, she goes with me. Isn’t that right, Everly?”

My head is beginning to pound. I can feel the nerves pinging all the way down my neck. I wish I never accepted the invitation. I should have gone home. This is all going to end so badly and it’ll be my fault.

“I’m okay, Mr. Shaw,” I murmur, needing to defuse the situation. Needing to get Bron away from everyone. “It’s getting late anyway.” I step out from behind him and force a smile up into his face. “Thank you for dinner.”

Bron grabs my wrist the moment I’m out and I’m dragged to his side.

“You don’t have to worry, Dad. I’ll take good care of her.”

I let myself get hauled to the house. I manage a firm shake of my head to Lauren when she starts forward, fingers balled like she’s prepared to flatten Bron. I don’t even look at Van as I’m dragged up the patio steps and inside.

But I dig my heels into the linoleum the second we’re alone and yank my arm free.

“What the hell was that?” I glower up into his face. “That was humiliating. Telling your dad we’re...”

Bron smirks. “Go on, little miss perfect, say it. Fucking.”

I can say it. But the word itself is so dirty and ... private. It refuses to be expelled.

He scoffs when I can only frown at him. “What pissed you off more? That I embarrassed you or that my dad thinks I’m plowing your cunt and making you scream my name?”

The heat in my face burns tears in my eyes that I’m having a hard time concealing. “It’s inappropriate. He’s your dad. I don’t want him—”

“Knowing your holes belong to me?”

“Stop it.”

Maybe it’s the weight of everything that just happened, but hearing him talk to me in such a disgusting manner only fills me with anger.

He just shakes his head, face a sneering mask of repulsion.

“You’re such a prude. Can you blame me for not wanting to fuck you?

You can’t even say the word.” He blows out a breath and glances over my shoulder at the patio doors.

I don’t follow his gaze, not wanting to see the three outside watching the show.

“Look.” His features soften. “I’m sorry, okay?

” I flinch when he rests his palms on my shoulders.

Hot and heavy, and pinning me to the spot.

“You know I don’t mean it, right? I just .

.. I hate seeing you with him. I don’t want you to get hurt. ”

“Lachlan would never hurt me,” I blurt without thinking, and feel his fingers clench. Feel them digging ten points of pain into bone.

“Lachlan, huh? When did you get so comfortable?”

I try to shake him off. Try to push him back with the palms I plant into his chest. “You’re hurting me. Stop it.”

The wide expanse of black encompassing his entire iris is terrifying.

“Are you fucking my dad, Everly?”

“No!” I squeak, struggling under the grinding dig of his thumbs under the bones of my shoulders. “I swear.”

He doesn’t relent. Not for several seconds.

Just as quickly, he stops. He sighs and pulls me into his arms. Mine are pinned between us. Useless as he nuzzles the side of my neck. His hands slip down my back and up under my top. The brush of his fingers along my sweat soaked spine churns my stomach.

“I just care about you so much, Everly. I’d be devastated if I lost you.”

It’s taking every ounce of control not to push him away.

It’s the voice at the back of my head dreading the conversation Lauren will make of it if I do.

It’s the fight and chaos it would cause if Lachlan or Van think I need to be saved.

It’s Bron’s wrath afterwards when we’re alone that keeps me still and silent.

“I want us to build a life together,” he’s saying into my jawline. “Isn’t that what you want, too?”

No.

No, I don’t want this for the rest of my life. I don’t want this feeling.