Page 54

CHAPTER

FORTY

REMI

There are a few people in line at the ticket booth at Lilith Caves, but it’s relatively quiet. Yet his words from the truck, the way he pressed for my truths, the ones he gave me… it all echoes in my head.

His brother. His mom. His thoughts about Chase.

Insinuating again that he hurt himself, too.

And when he links his arm through my own, despite the confusion in my mind, I feel a sense of giddiness that’s unmatched.

“Stop doing this. Let me be it for you.”

When I fall, I know it’s going to hurt.

But for now… I can let him be it.

We disappear into the darkness, the stagnant air surrounding us as we walk along the pathway lined with a short, wooden fence. Lanterns light the way, hanging lights casting an orange glow on the stalactites and stalagmites.

He keeps me close, even when I run over to the fence to check out the limestone walls, listening to water dripping within the quiet of the cave.

He comes with me, saying little. I keep my phone in the breast pocket of his borrowed shirt, even though everything is beautiful and picture perfect.

The active limestone formations, the bulging walls of the cavern, ducking beneath low hanging rocks.

At one point, Cort has to let go of me and duck.

I feel his hands on my ass as I crouch down and I laugh, escaping onto the other side.

He easily catches up to me, pulling me back to him, his arm wrapped around my shoulder, his West River High black and teal hoodie still fitting him perfectly. I think he grew so fast, he got it all out of his system in high school.

“Having fun, pretty baby?” he asks me as we see the mouth of the cave exit looming ahead, seeming to glow bright in the darkness.

I stop walking, and he does too as I twist under his arm to look at him.

His hands come to my hips, heavy and hot even through my shirt.

“Yeah,” I admit, my breath hitching. We’re alone now, and I almost don’t want to go into the light. I texted Van that I was going for a drive in a golf cart, this place just one exit up on the highway, and I’m not ready to go back.

I don’t want people to see this. Whatever this is.

He glides his hands up my side, my shirt pulling with the movement.

My heart races as I stare up at him in the dim light, and he pulls me closer. My palms splay against his hoodie, my fingers rubbing over the wolf printed on the thick material.

He bends his head, his brow to mine, our noses lined up. He seems to like this position with me. Touching every inch of my face that he can with his own.

And his touch is firm, but gentle.

Much like it was that night.

A chill slides down my spine, but it’s not exactly unwanted.

“I like this. With you,” he says softly, yanking me closer, and us out of the main path of the cave, his back against the rocky wall. If people want to come through, he seems to be saying, they can, but he’s not letting go.

“Yeah?” I ask, my fingers still splayed on his shirt, still moving. My heart still racing.

Wrong. My head is telling me this is wrong, but my heart, in this moment, is winning.

It’s just a moment, I tell my head. That part of me trying to protect myself from the inevitable crash and burn that will come from giving into these simple pleasures. It’s just a moment.

“Yeah,” he says, and his lips brush against mine.

I grip his shirt tightly in my fist.

“We remember that night so differently,” he continues, and my heart sinks. Not this. Anything but this. “But even still, I want you to know, baby, I’d give anything to go back and do it all over again.”

I don’t know what he means. If he wants to do it how it happened. If he wants to relive it.

Before I have my next thought, he’s crushing his lips to mine and I let him, his tongue sweeping in, clashing with my own, stroking over the ball of my piercing.

I feel his own against my lips, and I moan into his mouth as his fingertips press into my sides, his cock growing hard on my stomach.

I rise up on my tiptoes, giving in, wanting to feel him between my thighs.

His kiss isn’t gentle, but it feels better this way. A little pain with the sweetness. A reminder of the heartache I know is coming.

But I get swept up in this, in him, and by the time he’s pulling away, both of us breathing hard, I’ve almost forgotten we’re in the middle of a cave and there’s a whole world outside of it that is just itching to tear us apart.

“Let’s go eat,” he says, taking my hand, threading his fingers through mine and pulling me to the mouth of the cave, as if he didn’t just steal my breath.

But I follow him, wiping the back of my hand over my mouth, as if wiping away his kiss will help with the misery I know will come eventually.

We spend all day in the little town around Grim Mountain. Once we’re back at the campsite, he drives down an abandoned road that seems to lead to nowhere, putting the truck in park tucked just inside the forest, as far as he could drive without hitting a tree.

Van has texted me a few times, and I assured him I’m okay, but night has fallen now, and soon, he’ll panic.

But I can’t let this go. Not yet. I don’t want the day to end.

My skin is warm and there’s vodka in my bloodstream. Cortland ordered a fountain drink through a drive-thru, and I dumped some Tito’s in it that was in the backseat, slurped it down before our drive back, making him laugh by singing rock in the car at the top of my lungs and off-key.

It felt good to give into that side of me, even if I had to use the alcohol to help guide me along.

Now, though, my high has kind of fallen, and I’ve got my seatbelt off, but my ass is still planted in my seat. We probably only have a few moments left before Van calls me nonstop until I pick up, but I’m savoring every second. Besides, I’m sure Ryann is keeping my cousin busy.

“Thank you,” I finally say. I meet Cortland’s eyes, and he smiles. “For today.”

“You deserve it.” He has one hand on the wheel, the other on the center console, and his gaze drifts to the thick forest ahead of us, his lights off, darkness pressing in on us. “Are you going back in the morning?” he asks quietly before looking back at me.

I shift in my seat, one leg in it, foot pressed against my inner thigh. “Yeah. With Van.” I hold his gaze and see him frown. I think of last night and my cheeks warm.

“You like him?” he asks me.

I hitch up one shoulder, a smile playing on my lips. “He wouldn’t be my best friend if I didn’t.” I know what he’s asking but giving in seems too easy. Besides that, this isn’t a relationship. It’s probably better if it hurts now.

It’ll all come crashing down around us soon.

There’s no world that this makes any sense. And even if it did, even if it could, if we could convince the people around us that this is it for us, the scars around my heart from that night… I’m not sure they’ll ever heal. Long-term, the resentment would grow. Some nights, I still don’t sleep.

But I remember last night, with his arms wrapped around me, when I didn’t wake up until morning, even though he’s the monster I’m scared of in that basement of my mind. Funny how that works.

“Are you fucking him?” Those words are bit off with anger and I blink at him, surprised.

Still, I cross my arms, hunching my shoulders. “I told you. He’s my cousin.”

“I don’t give a fuck if he’s your twin brother. Are you fucking him, Remi?”

I press my lips together to keep from laughing. Then, “I meant what I told you. I haven’t fucked anyone,” I confess. I’m not sure anymore that I hate it’s the truth but my words still come out bitter.

I turn to stare out the windshield, not wanting to make eye contact. The little hairs on the back of my arm stand on end with our pitch-black surroundings. With “Genesis” by Deftones playing through the speakers.

Cortland grabs my arm, unraveling one from across my chest. I face him again, and he leans across the center console, in my face. “Why do you say it like it’s such a fucking bad thing?” he growls.

I take a breath. And another. And another, one hand fisted on my thigh.

He lets go of me and places his hand on my other leg.

“You like that your friends were the last guys to fuck with me?” I counter, emotions warring in my chest. My heart. Lust. Anger. Confusion. My head spins with all of it.

His fingers trail up higher, his grip tighter, his mouth so close to mine. “Shut up, Remi.”

I reach out and grab his shoulders, like he’s an anchor.

“But they were,” I breathe out as his fingers pull at the waistband of my leggings.

I shift my hips, letting him. “Storm. Brinklin. Chase.” Tasting their names makes my stomach convulse, my throat closing up.

But I want him to hear it. What he let them do to me. “They were the last men inside of?—”

“Shut. Up.”

He’s yanking down my pants, shoving his hand into my underwear, curling his fingers into my pussy as I adjust myself to give him better access, my words lost on a moan.

“They were?” he snarls, fucking me roughly with his fingers as I hold onto him. “They were the last men inside of you?” He nudges my head to the side with his nose, and his teeth come to my neck, biting down hard.

I yelp and he pushes two fingers in, and out, deeper, harder.

“I think that was me, baby. In the fucking library.”

His mouth comes crashing over mine and I open for him, spreading my thighs wider, my pants around my ankles as he fingers me, his tongue sweeping over mine.

But then abruptly, he pulls back, his fingers coming out of me as he swipes them on my thigh, letting me feel how wet I am for him.

Even that’s gone after a moment, his hands on his lap as he stares at me, his eyes on mine.

I’m panting, glancing down at my bare thighs, my black cotton underwear shoved to the side. I look up, out the window of the truck. Into the darkness.

The abyss.

The hairs on my arm stand on end when he says, “Come here.”

Just like that night.

Before.

It’s a do over.

I swallow, running my palms over my thighs. “Cortland, I?—”