Page 17 of The Love Obsession (Bloody Desires #11)

KEATON

Moose is dead. It was a weird thought, but it felt like the man I’d become in this park had died with Mom. As I stared in the mirror, it wasn’t me who looked back. It was Keaton . I had responsibilities that went further than paying the rent. I was Ginny’s guardian now. Fuck. Guardian.

I scrubbed my face, panic surging up in my chest. I supposed it wasn’t much different than what I’d already been doing.

When it came to feeding her and helping her shower and get ready for the day, the duty fell on me anyway.

Mom was never up early enough for any of that.

But this felt more final. I had no choice now.

Did I have to do something to make sure she stayed with me?

I had no fucking idea. Maybe Zayn would know.

Shaking my head at the thought of the man still sleeping where I’d left him on the foldout, I sighed.

He’d been great through this entire drama.

He’d stayed at my side, offering me support, and when I’d needed it, pain, too.

I’d been fucked stupid last night and he’d helped me forget, just for a little while.

Now the sun was out and I couldn’t hide from the cold, hard truth.

Mom was dead, and I had to pick up Ginny from Mrs. Carmine’s and tell her.

I wasn’t sure if I was ready, but I’d never be. Protecting Ginny had been my main goal in life and now I had to be the one to give her the bad news. Mommy wasn’t coming home.

A gentle knock on the door stiffened my back.

“Are you okay, boy?”

Boy. Fuck. Why did I love that so much? I wasn’t a boy, far from it, but I was his boy. And he was my Daddy. How fucked up but hot was that? Falling into the role had been so easy last night. My body had felt weightless as I was able to let go of all responsibilities. He was in charge, not me.

Shivering at the thought of his dominant voice and the orders he’d given me, I straightened and finished washing my face. I’d already brushed my teeth and now I was ready to face the world. Well, as ready as I could be.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

I opened the door and looked at his tired face. Dark bags stuck out under his eyes and he yawned, jaw cracking with the movement. He shook his shoulders like someone had walked over his grave, or at least, that’s what my grandma used to believe.

“You look like you haven’t slept.” Of course he fucking didn’t, you dummy, Keaton. Look where he is. I’m sure he’s used to a much better bed than mine. “Sorry about the couch. It’s all we could afford.”

He smiled gently, and while I expected to see judgment in his expression, nothing came.

He held out his hand, and I slid my palm against his, letting him tug me out of the small bathroom and into his arms. Brushing his nose over mine, he draped his arms around my waist. “I’ve slept in worse places. ”

“Yeah? Where?” I didn’t know a lot about him.

How did he grow up? He’d never mentioned anything about his family, but then, I hadn’t, either.

We’d both silently agreed to keep our lives private, though he’d asked about mine.

But we were here now, in the trailer park, and I couldn’t hide behind a nickname.

He hesitated, but instead of answering like I wanted, he kissed me, which I broke away from almost immediately.

I scrunched up my nose. “Morning breath, Daddy.”

He chuckled and laid a kiss at the corner of my mouth. “Sorry, boy.”

“You should be,” I grumbled, but there wasn’t any real malice in my voice.

I eyed him carefully, looking for signs that he was inwardly laughing at my living situation, but I didn’t see an ounce of cruelty.

Not like Roger the Dodger, who’d mocked me whenever he’d gotten a chance.

Fuck him. I hoped wherever he was now, it was hell for him.

“Who’s Roger the Dodger?”

I froze and blinked at him. “What?”

“You were whispering fuck Roger the Dodger . Who’s that, boy?” His tone sharpened, a new edge to it, and I cocked my head. He was dangerous, wasn’t he? He enjoyed watching me fight and he’d said he wanted Hannibal’s number to join in on the fun at the nuthouse.

I shrugged, forcing indifference in the movement, even though the name made my skin itch. I fucking hated Roger. “We used to fuck. He’s the one who said I was dumb.”

“Hmm.” Zayn’s jaw tightened. “Where is he now?”

I scratched my jaw uncomfortably. “Fucked if I know, Daddy. He’s gone.”

“You curse a lot, don’t you?” His lips twitched and he leaned up into me, caressing his fingers between my pecs and down my abs. The familiar threads of lust curled in my veins and my blood changed direction, heading south. “Do we need to wash your mouth out with soap?”

Now he sounded like Mom. That was her threat when I was young. I smiled at the thought, but it fell as quickly as it came when I remember Mom was dead.

Drugs.

Fucking drugs.

I was going to kill whoever was behind giving her meth. She’d never taken it before, so why now? What had changed?

I shook the thought out of my head and focused on Zayn again. Smirking, I leaned against the threshold of the bathroom and crossed my arms. My pecs looked a lot bigger now that they were pressed together by my biceps. “What are you gonna do about it...Daddy?”

He grabbed the back of my neck and dragged me toward the living room. I nearly tripped over my feet as he shoved me onto the foldout. I barely bounced on the thin mattress. He pointed at me.

“Stay, boy, or I’ll give you another spanking with the wooden spoon.

Or perhaps my hand.” He left me there, and I shivered.

Luckily, Mom kept an extra toothbrush in the bottom drawer of the bathroom, which I’d always thought was stupid because we were poor as fuck and never had visitors.

She’d said it was in case Ginny ever had friends stay the night.

By the sounds coming from the next room, he was searching the vanity and had probably found it.

I waited as he’d ordered, my knees pressed together tightly, which made me feel like I was in trouble back in school.

Getting detentions happened a lot to me and I’d also been suspended a few times for fighting.

I’d never been great at paying attention in classes or understanding what the hell the teachers were talking about, so I gave up.

As soon as I hit senior year, I dropped out.

Looking around the room, I noticed the beer cans were gone and I frowned.

I hadn’t even realized when I’d first woken and stumbled to the bathroom, my ass still stinging from the hits I’d received last night.

But now that I was wide awake and seeing the trailer for the first time with fresh eyes, I stiffened.

I didn’t speak, afraid of the words getting stuck in my throat, and waited for Zayn to come out. As soon as he was back near the couch, I looked at him.

“Why?”

He blinked down at me, confused. “Why what, boy? Why am I so good-looking? Why is my name Zayn? Why am I not getting you naked again and drilling your perfectly muscular ass?”

I waved around the trailer. “It’s clean.”

“Ah.” He tugged at his shirt, the same one from last night, and fell onto the foldout beside me. Grunting, he glared at the mattress but didn’t say anything about it. “I decided to help.”

“Why?” I demanded again with more force. Panic rose in my throat, clogging my airway and forcing me to choke. I scratched angrily at my throat, and he seized my wrist with wide eyes.

“Hey, hey, stop. Stop, boy!”

Desire for pain bled into me. There was no fight to be had. Not right now. And I had a feeling if I asked him to hurt me again, he’d say no because there was concern on his face.

“You shouldn’t have touched anything,” I hissed.

It was still early in the morning and the activity around this park started late. We had a lot of neighbors who worked night shifts in both employment and hitting the alcohol or drug scene. Waking anyone up would cause unnecessary drama. I fucking hated drama.

“This was her. She did this and she should’ve—” No.

She couldn’t clean it up. She was dead .

Fucking dead as a doornail. My mother, the one who raised me and made my childhood happy.

The one who gave my boo-boos kisses when I hurt myself and made my favorite blueberry pancakes on the mornings she wasn’t at work as a nurse. My mother—dead.

Ginny never experienced that version of Mom. She never knew how happy Mom had once been. She’d been a great parent. And I fucking hated all this shit. This life. How did everything turn to crap?

“Boy?” Zayn’s warm palm on my cheek brought me crashing down to reality, and I sucked in a deep breath as I looked at him.

His green eyes burned with compassion, and I felt it down to my core, reaching for a soul I wasn’t sure I had.

“I know we haven’t known each other for long, but believe me when I tell you I understand how you feel. I lost my mother. And my father.”

I wanted to ask him how, but his expression said he wouldn’t tell me.

His gaze shuttered and there was something intense hiding in the darkness.

My chest squeezed because, as weird as it sounded, seeing the danger inside him was hot.

I recognized it because I felt it every day of my life.

Living in this trailer park, you were walking a fine line, caught between doing illegal shit to survive or trying to earn money the right way.

Some people didn’t have a choice. Fighting at Uhlig’s amateur night was my drug.

“I want to find out who sold her the meth.” I hardened my jaw.

A gleam returned to his eyes and it was almostexcited. “How are you going to do that?”