Page 15

FIFTEEN

SAINT

She looks like a deer caught in headlights.

Her eyes, a blue-green mixture like the depths of the ocean just as it turns deep, widened. Rosy, plump lips parted, a bright red flush coating her cheeks as she stares at me like I’ve stripped fucking naked in front of her rather than just taken my shirt off.

If I’m not mistaken, which I rarely am not, there’s a look of heat mixed with shock.

Jesus, this is going to be entirely too much fucking fun. Maybe the most fun I’ve ever had in my life with someone, and that’s saying a lot since I spend the majority of my free time between a girl’s thighs, tits… or mouth. I’m not picky.

Golden Girl wanted an asshole, a bad boy to let her daddy think she’s playing on the wrong side of the tracks, and she found exactly what she was looking for.

“You know, it’s not polite to stare,” I murmur, my gaze slipping over her delicate features, watching as the realization of being caught hits her, and she stiffens.

She can try and hide it all she wants, but I affect her no matter how much she may hate it and try to act the opposite.

Her eyes fall to the floor, looking at every other thing in the room but me as she smooths her palms over the blue jean shorts she’s wearing.

“Not staring.”

Chuckling, I slowly slip my arms into the sleeves but leave the shirt hanging open, unbuttoned. “If I’d known the only way to get you to be quiet was to take off my clothes, I would’ve gladly done it before now.”

She rolls her eyes, but I can see the corner of her lip curving even as she attempts to stop it. “Do you take anything at all seriously? Ever?”

I shrug, “Rarely.”

“Shocking.”

Slowly, almost wolfishly, I walk over to where she’s sitting in the large, oversized leather chair, watching as her throat bobs and her lips part slightly, eyes widening with each step I take toward her.

I stop when I’m right in front of her, peering down at her doe-like eyes. I bend, flattening my palms along the arms of the chair, and dip my head. “You know, I’ve been thinking…”

“Also shocking,” she retorts snarkily, but her words are breathy, and she’s not fooling me, not in the least, not the way she’s trying to fool herself.

The sweet, innocent virgin until she probably dies is attracted to the guy that she can’t stand.

And I bet she fucking hates herself for it.

My lips twitch as I lean even closer, until I hear her breath hitch. Raising my finger, I bring it to her pale, creamy skin and ghost the rough pad of it along her collarbone, watching as her eyes squeeze shut like it’ll somehow make me disappear too.

“You want me to play like I’m your boyfriend, yet I can’t even get close to you without your cheeks blazing. How do you think you’re going to fool anyone when a simple touch makes you respond like this?”

I drag my finger languidly, the barest of touches, down the center of her chest and almost make it to the shallow space between her tits before she reaches up, her fingers curling around mine to stop me from going any further.

Smirking, I lift my eyes to hers. “See what I mean, Golden Girl? Can’t be your boyfriend if you act like a Catholic schoolgirl the moment I touch you. ”

Even with her pupils dilating, she tries to deny what’s painfully obvious to us both: her attraction to me.

Her green eyes roll. “Sorry that your proximity makes me physically ill.”

I chuckle. “Who are you trying to convince… me or yourself ?”

I can feel the rapid thrum of her heartbeat beneath my finger as she stutters, “I-I… No convincing necessary. How about we worry about that when it becomes a problem? As of right now, I’m not entirely convinced we are going to be able to make it to the fundraiser.”

Just as I open my mouth to tell her that if we don’t, it’ll be because of her and not me, I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket. Straightening, I fish it out of my pocket, my brow pinching when I see Mom’s name on the screen.

She never calls me during the day.

“Hello?” I answer, bringing the phone to my ear.

“Saint, I just got home from work, and there’s a note… A note on the door, and I don’t know what to do. I-I’m scared. I don’t kno—” The words break as she speaks. She’s panicked, strained in a way that has terror wrapping around my throat and cutting off my oxygen. “Can you please come home?”

“I’ll be right there. It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay,” I say roughly, trying to reassure her, although I’m not even sure what’s happening.

My gaze flicks to Lennon where she’s staring at me with wide eyes, concern evident in their depths.

The moment I press End and shove my phone into my slacks, she’s rising from the chair. “Is everything okay? You look wor?—”

“I’m fine. I have to go,” I mutter, shoving the shirt down my arms, one sleeve at a time, as I move across the room toward the dressing room.

“But we’re not done—” she starts, and I cut her off again before she can continue her sentence.

“I said I have to fucking go, Lennon.”

There’s no remorse in my words, in the way that I snap at her. I can’t even fucking think straight after that phone call.

Her mouth slams shut, her expression darkening, and finally, she nods.

Without another word, I turn and walk toward the exit.

NOTICE TO VACATE

The letter my mom holds in her shaking hands is a fucking eviction letter. We are over a month behind on rent, and we have two weeks to come up with the money, or we’ll be homeless.

Fucking homeless.

I take the letter from her, reading it again and again until the words bleed together.

“I-I don’t know how he found it, Saint. I hid it in my closet in an old shoebox,” Mom whispers quietly, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy from crying. I could fucking kill him.

I’m so pissed right now that I don’t trust myself to even speak.

Not that I’m surprised. This is exactly the type of shit that I would expect from my fuckup of a father, but it doesn’t make me any less mad.

I clench the paper in my hand, balling it in my fist as I attempt to suck in a breath when my anger threatens to boil over.

How fucking selfish and careless could you be? This is exactly why I told Mom I could take over and make sure things were paid from my bank account, but she was afraid that he would lose it. There’s nothing more she hates than seeing him angry, especially when he tries to take it out on me.

She didn’t care if she took the brunt of his anger, but never me.

Even though I could take him, could handle anything that motherfucker threw my way.

Yet… she still won’t leave. No matter how many times I’ve begged on my knees, pleaded for her to leave with me. It’s always the same excuses, the same shit every single time.

He can’t live without me. How will he take care of himself? He’ll drink himself to death.

Yeah, well, maybe that’s for the fucking best.

I sigh, dragging my palm down my face as I swallow. What the hell are we going to do?

It’s the same question I’ve been asking myself since she handed me the notice. I’m fucking terrified, but I can’t show that. I have to be strong for her, no matter what. Just like I’ve always been.

“We’ll figure it out, Ma. Let me handle it,” I say, swinging my gaze to hers.

A tear slips down her cheeks, and my heart feels like it’s going to fucking shrivel up and die in my chest. I hate seeing her cry, seeing yet another thing my father has done to hurt her.

Despite the fact that she stays after everything he’s done and everything he’s put her through, at the core of it, she’s a victim.

I know that. And it breaks my goddamn heart. Whatever’s left of it.

“I’m sorry, Saint. This is my fault. I-I… I should’ve…” she whispers with a sniffle, using the sleeve of her cardigan to brush away her tears.

“It’s not your fault, Ma. You know it’s hi—” I stop myself, exhaling. It doesn’t help, cussing him into the ground, because she’ll never see it.

My father stole all of our rent money from the back of her closet and probably blew it on pills and booze, and still… she’ll make an excuse for him.

“Just… I’ll take care of it. We have two weeks, and I’ll handle it.

You don’t worry about it, okay?” I loop an arm around her shoulders and pull her to me, where she buries her face into the front of my shirt, sniffling.

Even though I’m pissed, so goddamn angry I could put my fist through a wall, I push it down.

So it can’t control me. So he can’t control me.

Right now, I know that she’s safe, here with me. I don’t know how I’m going to pull it together or what the fuck I’m going to do, but all that matters is that she’s safe, right here, right now.

That’s what I’m holding on to.

Right now.

Even if it fucking kills me in the process.