He shuffles around, opening and closing drawers. A few minutes later, I hear the toilet flush and the sink running in the adjacent bathroom. I’m still in the same position when he returns.
“Should I, uh…get you off—”
“No,” I bark out. “Just go.”
“Are you going to wash my clothes, or am I going to find my jizz-crusted underwear hanging from the flagpole in the morning?”
A chuckle rumbles through me. “Guess you’ll have to wait and see.”
“Betcha a Coke you get yourself off after I leave and think of me when you do it.”
“Go away,” I grumble.
“You didn’t win this round.”
“No,” I complain, annoyed that I’m still aching to come. “I certainly did not.”
He thumps me on the ass. “See you around, Voss. If you want your dick sucked as a thank you, you know where to find me.”
His laugh makes me roll my eyes. I blindly shoot him the bird, which has him laughing harder. It isn’t until he closes the door and I roll onto my back that I realize I’m grinning.
I did not enjoy that.
I’m still hard and unsatisfied, for fuck’s sake.
I guess I’m going to just keep lying to myself.
Dinner is quiet. Carrie ignores me to text as she eats the grilled cheese sandwiches I made for us. I keep glancing at the clock, wondering when Mom will get home when my phone buzzes.
Dad: Quinn and I are going to come watch you and Alis at your first track meet. I’m looking forward to seeing you beat his time.
As pissed as I am at my dad, my heart does a tiny flop inside my chest at his words. When I played football, he was my biggest supporter. I didn’t realize how much I longed for that aspect of our relationship until now.
But, because I refuse to be swayed so easily, I leave the message left on read.
I’m an asshole, but so is he.
“What?” I demand, feeling Carrie’s curious stare on me.
“You. You’re behaving erratically.”
“That’s rich coming from you.” I glower at her. “Staying out late drinking, inviting the enemy into our home…”
Her lips purse together, and she narrows her eyes at me. When she stares at me like this, it reminds me of Mom anytime I was in trouble growing up.
“You broke up with Naomi and have been hanging out with Dad,” she accuses, her voice trembling slightly. “Maybe it’s time to admit we’re both a little fucked up.”
“I wasn’t hanging out with Dad,” I bite back, shoving my empty plate away from me. “I was seeing what they were up to. They’re happy as can be playing house over there while we’re miserable as hell.”
Her eyes water, and she bites on her bottom lip to keep from crying. I feel bad for being a dick to her, but she started it.
“You weren’t beating him up, were you?” Her words are soft and barely audible. “You were—”
I slam my hand down on the table. “I was doing nothing!”
“You can lie to everyone else, but I see right through it, Canny. Just stop it already. Tell me what’s going on inside that head of yours.”
I hate Alister Sommers.
But I also want to fuck him.
Explain that one to me, sis.
“Keep him out of my room,” I grit out. “Can you at least give me that, or are you also going to give me shit like everyone else in my life?”
“Whatever. Talk to me when you’re done being an ass,” she mutters, standing from the table and storming away.
I sit there staring at the crumbs on my plate until I hear the garage door. A few minutes later, Mom walks through the door into the house. Her hair is slightly disheveled, and she looks dazed.
“Mom,” I mutter as I rise to my feet. “You okay?”
Her glassy eyes flutter. “Yeah, baby. Just tired.”
“You work too much,” I complain. “You need to cut back on your hours.”
I wrap my arms around my mother. She feels so small these days. There was a time when she was such a powerful, loving presence in our home. It’s as though Dad snuffed her fire out, and all that’s left is a tiny plume of smoke.
“Were you able to get Saturday off?” I inhale her familiar scent but pick up a whiff of stale cigarette smoke. “My meet starts at nine.”
She stiffens in my embrace. “No. I’m sorry, honey.”
Closing my eyes, I curse Dad for the millionth time. It’s times like these, seeing my mother nothing but a fragment of her former self, that I hate him with every ounce of my being.
“I wish you could just quit,” I whisper. “You don’t need the money.”
“Jesus Christ, Canyon.” She pulls from my hug, a withering look I’d seen on Carrie not long before. “Lay off it already. You’ll be graduating soon—time to start acting like a man. Sometimes you just don’t get your way. Responsibilities come first. Understand?”
I recoil at her angry words. “Yeah, Momma. I understand.”
Her face crumples like she might cry as she mouths an apology to me. With tears in her eyes, she leaves me alone in the kitchen. A couple seconds later, her bedroom door shuts.
To calm my nerves, I take my time turning off all the lights and making sure all the windows and doors are locked. It used to be Dad’s job. A lot of the shit I do now used to be his job. Mom’s right. I need to start acting like a man because and I sure as hell have his responsibilities.
Dad did this.
He destroyed our family.
Tonight was a good reminder to keep my head on straight and not lose sight of my goal.
Make them pay.
Starting with Alis.
Alister
I’m so fucking tired.
After the momentous mistake yesterday letting Canyon bring me to orgasm, and with my clothes on no less, I went straight home to work on a new sculpture.
This one of his face.
He’d looked so arrogant and powerful as he held me down. Pleased as hell at what he was doing to me. But his blue eyes also burned with heat and attraction. That was what I wanted to capture. The way his lips were parted as though he wanted to kiss me.
Stupid.
So, so stupid.
This is all a game for us.
Especially him.
I’m nothing more than someone for him to toy with.
“Got a new boyfriend we don’t know about?” Ryan teases at breakfast, his handsome face looking too similar to Canyon’s for me to think straight.
“W-What?” I croak out, shuddering at the idea of him seeing inside my head.
A knowing smirk teases his lips. “The hickeys. You know, if he sticks around, you can bring him to the wedding.”
Heat blooms across my flesh, and I tear my stare from his probing gaze to Dad’s. His eyebrow is lifted in amusement as he sips his coffee.
“It was nothing,” I rasp out, dropping my attention to the half-eaten pile of eggs on my plate.
“Yeah, yeah,” Ryan jokes. “Your dad and I were nothing too until we were something.”
I hear the sound of their lips smacking together for a kiss. I’ve seen them kiss hundreds of times before, but for some reason, this time it bothers me.