Page 38 of Piggy

Charlotte

Gosh, I don’t want to be in this scary, dirty place.

The air reeks of bleach and sweat. The kind of sterile burn that tries to mask decades of filth but only mixes with it.

The correctional officer behind me feels like he’s eavesdropping of this small visiting room of Cutter State Penitentiary.

It’s cold in here, not from the AC, but from the lifeless gray walls and buzzing fluorescent lights that hum.

Across the scratched steel table, Brax reclines in the stiff chair like he owns the joint.

“No fuckin’ way. My baby sister doesn’t even have sex,” he says, the corner of his mouth lifting in a disgusted sneer.

His blond curls have been shaved down to a pale fuzz. Probably because the prison doesn’t supply gel. Still, even in these hideous orange scrubs, he’s... annoyingly handsome. Built like a wrestler. All shoulders and swagger. Wish I could effortlessly look so good. But his attitude? Still ugly .

He leans in, elbows resting wide across the table, voice low like we’re swapping secrets. “I don’t wanna hear about you having sex. Nasty.”

I sigh, curling into myself a little. I hate Brax sometimes. Hate the guards pacing behind me. Hate the desperation clawing the walls. Hate how I feel like I need a hazmat suit to sit down, because once again, I am in a prison. But instead of visiting my mother, it’s my brother.

“I do have sex,” I mutter.

He fake-wretches, loud and dramatic. “Foul, Charlotte.”

I shake my head slowly, eyeing him across the table. “What do you care who I date? You were never that nice to me anyway.”

He doesn’t flinch. “I said no.”

I look at him from across the table, pleading with my eyes.

“Rowen Grayson is— just no! Never.”

I whisper, “I love him, though.”

Brax cringes, like the words harmed him physically. “You know that bastard has a record, right? He’s a felon.”

“I know! I had to find that out myself,” I snap. “Why didn’t you tell me you let a criminal live with us?”

He shrugs, casual. “Yeah, he’s a criminal, you idiot.

Stupid as Mom, I swear. But I didn’t care if he stayed.

None of my friends wanted to fuck my fat sister, let alone Grayson.

Figured you were safe.” Then he smirks, smug as sin.

“Besides, he was busy screwing Meghan. That was the girl he raped, if you can call it that. Everybody’s had a go with her.

Me included. If a dick is near, she’ll be the first to hop on it. ”

My stomach twists. I still don’t like Meghan, but she’s a person. Not some discarded toy.

“You’re disgusting,” I say flatly.

When he doesn’t soften, I add more firmly, “Brax, just let me date Grayson.”

“No.” He grins widely now, something cruel flashing in his mischievous eyes. “I already got something planned for that double-crossing fucker.”

I sit straighter. “I know. That’s why I’m here. Killian said something. I came to stop whatever you’re planning.”

He lets out a sharp laugh and shakes his head. “Oh, Piglet. You really don’t get it, do you? Grayson broke the code. You don’t fuck your buddy’s little sister. Ever. That’s sacred. Everyone knows that, except someone as clueless as you.”

I sniffle, hating how my emotions threaten to spill. “So what, I’m never supposed to fall in love? Never get married? Just live alone forever because you say so?”

Brax shrugs, cool as ice. “Find some dork. Someone I don’t know. In another zip code.”

I open my mouth to protest, but he cuts me off.

“How’s Atticus?”

I blink, stunned by the shift. “I just saw him. He’s miserable. He wants to come home. I wish you hadn’t gotten behind on the mortgage.”

For the first time, Brax’s smugness falters. His shoulders drop just slightly. “Sex, drugs, and parties get expensive,” he mutters, almost to himself. “It’s hard not to touch your own supply. You wouldn’t understand, though.”

I jump on the opportunity. “Guess what? Grayson got a second job. He let me quit mine so I can focus on my EMT training. I get certified soon. He’s helping us save the house. Get Atticus back. Can’t you just... let this go? Call off whatever you’re planning?”

He strokes his jaw slowly, thinking. After a beat, he says casually, “Fine. I’ll change the plan.”

Hope swells in my chest. “Really?”

“To a degree.”

My stomach drops. “What does that mean?”

“He’ll live another day. That’s it. Once he saves the house, he’s done.”

“That’s not fair!”

Don’t freak out, Charlotte. Calm down.

He grins like he just won a game we have been playing since childhood. “There’s still gonna be consequences for him messin’ around with you.”

I explode: “Fuck you, Brax!” I shove to my feet, chair scraping loudly against the concrete floor.

“Wee, wee, Piggy!” he taunts with a cackle. “Let’s see that face turn red!”

I flip him off, trying to look tough, and storm toward exit .

He laughs harder, a villain among villains. Right where he belongs.

Sentenced to fifteen years behind bars, and Brax still thinks he’s the king of the world. Hopefully, these prison bars limit his reach.

Grayson lies beside me, his broad chest rising and falling, shirtless and gorgeous. The heat of his body radiating near mine. The bodywash he uses is so damn hypnotic, a little like fresh rain and amber wood. The scent crawls into my nose and lingers there, taunting me.

I shouldn’t crave him like this. Not when my head is so full of warnings. But my pussy clenches all on her own. I ache. I miss the way he touched me in the truck, with so much desire. Like I mattered most in his world.

But it ended in disappointment. When he said no, I interpreted it as Grayson replying: No, Charlotte, I can’t have sex with you like a normal person. I hate it. You’re terrible.

Normal thoughts.

And he hasn’t. No sex since. Maybe I need to make a move. I’m probably just overthinking this.

I roll onto my side, slipping my hand across his abs, fingers gliding lower. As my fingertips skim his underwear, his body tenses beneath my touch .

“Not tonight,” he mutters, eyes closed.

I freeze.

Not tonight. Again.

My stomach sinks. I should be used to rejection. I’ve spent most of my life being too much, too loud, too annoying, and according to Brax, too fat for any of his friends. But this? Grayson not wanting me, not even to let me touch him, feels like rejection of the worst kind. Like he’s pulling away.

I whisper, “Did I do something wrong?”

One eye peeks open... but only for a second. “Everything’s fine. Just tired.”

Fine. Tired. He always is.

I turn onto my back, blinking up at the ceiling. I’m still, but my body is burning with hunger for his touch... and aching with the pain of being unwanted by this man I love so much.

Buzz. Buzz.

His phone lights up on the nightstand. I wait, but he doesn’t move.

Curiosity coils like a snake in my chest. Carefully, I reach over his sleeping body and take the phone, hoping and praying it’s nothing.

I punch in the passcode I wasn’t supposed to memorize.

Meghan

CALL ME. COME OVER!! PROBLEM.

My breath catches .

Problem? What kind of emergency could she possibly have? And why does she still think he’ll come?

I scroll. She texts often. Every few days. Begging. Teasing. Needy little messages that get no reply.

But... he never blocked her.

Why?

He could’ve. Definitely should’ve. My thumb hovers over the screen.

Just block her, Charlotte. Erase her. You’re his now. He’s in bed with you. Not her.

I press down. It’s done. She’s gone.

Still, my hands shake because I know Grayson will be pissed if he finds out. Ugh. What am I doing!

Yet, before putting the phone back, I scroll up. Just to be sure. One message from a few weeks ago sticks like poison in my brain:

Meghan

I HATE HER!!!! Think of me next time ur inside her.

U know u want me more

I stare. The words haunt me. He could have been thinking of her the last time we slept together. I don’t want to know.

But I do know this:

If Grayson won’t erase his past, I’ll do it for him.

I set the phone back on the nightstand. It’s quiet, as it should be.