TIRED OF TRYING
I wish they only take me as I am.
~ Vincent Van Gogh
Willow
“SEE THAT ONE?” Harrison is the epitome of inappropriate, cynic, and funny. His clear eyes dance as he continues analyzing the woman. The people around us wouldn’t know that the impressively handsome man, sporting an expensive tuxedo, with his light brown hair slicked back, is mocking people at the gala searching for a good lay or the next rich guy to buy them an expensive Jaguar or pay their rent. “She bought a dress two sizes too small, hoping to catch the eye of a wealthy man.”
He looks around, and I follow his gaze, appreciating the beautifully dressed people in the room. Many of them are holding champagne flutes and smiling at each other, while others speak. Groups here and there sharing stories. Hunter takes the empty glass I’ve been nursing for the past twenty minutes, swapping it for a fresh one. Fitz takes an entire tray of canapés, and Hazel hands it back to the waiter, giving Fitz a severe glance. Scott has one hand inside his slacks pocket and the other one scrolls through the screen of his phone. The five of them are in synchronicity. While I feel like an outsider intruding.
Why have I agreed to come?
“Come with me,” Hunter insisted.
“Yes, please, Wills.” Hazel batted those eyelashes, giving me her best, please, do it for me face.
So here I am, trying to catch up on with what I’ve missed for the past several years. Why didn’t I hang out with Hazel more often? She had school, I had work, but we met for breakfast on Sunday mornings.
“Him.” Harrison’s gaze stops as he points at a paunchy, bald guy at the other end of the ballroom. “He’s the perfect candidate.”
Hazel rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “What do you know about him?”
“That’s Winston Carter-Nicholson, the Fourth,” Harrison responds.
Scott sneaks a glance. “I say no, she goes for a fit man.”
“Those are harder to catch. They can smell she’s searching for a husband.” Fitz pretends to sniff the air around him.
“Do you want to take the bet of who she goes home with?” Fitz pulls out his wallet, handing a twenty to my sister. Scott does the same. Harrison and Hunter smile at each other.
“The weight of his wallet matters more than his physical attributes.” Harrison agrees with Hunter’s statement, and each one pulls out a fifty-dollar bill.
“Are you playing?” I question my sister not understanding this game.
“Hazel doesn’t like to play. She’s the referee,” Fitz clarifies.
I look at her, surprised by her participation. She rolls her eyes, grinning. “What can I say? I get half of the loot no matter who wins.” Laughing she turns around. “I’m checking on Gramps.”
“Willow, in this life you have two options, worry about everything or finding the funny side in it.” Harrison gives me a serious stare. “You’re judging this game. What you don’t know is that for years, we’ve had women trying to trap us because of our money. Are we jaded?” He waves his hand back and forth as if to say more or less. “We find it entertaining.”
“It’s a way to channel our anger,” Scott continues. “We’ve been approached by them several times.”
“Is that why you’re all single?” I snap, looking at the three of them. Maybe stepping out of my role as the . . . am I here with my grandfather like Hazel, or Hunter’s date? “Because you believe everyone is with you for your money?”
“It’s fair to assume . . . you just met us.” Harrison’s voice is cautious.
“Want to dance?” Hunter suggests, leading me over to the middle of the room where the other couples waltz to the orchestra playing.
Blending into the sea of people, I focus on the music and the feel of his strong arms he’s slipped around my waist, pulling me to him.
“I know you’re with me because I’m persistent,” he says softly into my ear. His voice and breath make every cell in my body shiver.
“I wasn’t . . .” I cast my eyes down, holding in the lie.
He raises his hand, setting it under my chin and lifting it so our eyes meet. “Sometimes, you have to let emotions leave your heart. Laugh it all off, or it’ll consume you.”
I chuckle. He’s asking the impossible from me. My emotions run too deep and too high. Understanding them is as easy as trying to understand Einstein’s theories. Masking them far simpler. I just have to create a character and ride the wave until everyone is gone—or I push them away.
“What’s your position on PDA?”
Before I react, he cups my chin with one hand, pressing me closer to him with the other, and taking my mouth. I sigh as a surge of lust travels through my body. Resisting him is becoming harder as the days pass. Our mouths are now familiar with each other. I open for him as his tongue licks along the seam, and my mouth releases a low moan. My hands reach for his neck, and my fingers tangle in his silky hair. His kisses are everything I imagine sex between us would be—his tongue stroking against my skin, his teeth nibbling, and his lips caressing me as they slide over my body. He’d savor every inch of me.
This isn’t just a kiss, it’s gone from a flame to a blazing fire. His fingers dig deeper into my hips, and I can feel his hard, growing cock pushing against my belly. My body shakes with pleasure as I picture his thick length pressing against my wet pussy, ready to take me.
“Willow.” His lips slide from mine to my ear. His gruff voice resonating all the way to my toes, leaving me feeling like I’m about to explode. “What are you doing to me?”
Resting my head on his chest, I close my eyes, letting the fire burning on my skin die. “I want to run. You’re going to hurt me.”
“Never,” he murmurs, kissing the top of my head. “Trust me, at least tonight don’t overthink it.”
I let him lead on the dance floor, his hand caresses my back with soothing movements. The noise usually affects me, but not tonight. I feel safe in his arms. The urge of giving him everything continues. My core clenches as the heat of his body soaks into mine, breathing in his musk that slides like a wave of desire through me. I need some release. My heart is racing too fast, and I’m losing control.
“Relax, baby, what do you need me to do for you?”
Don’t let me go?
“I’m okay,” I lie.
For a few more songs, I pretend it’s just the two of us. His protective arms bat away the outsiders. My head quiets down. Not many emotions linger. I wish that I could keep this moment forever. Unfortunately, the music stops, and a female voice comes through the speakers, reminding us that dinner is about to be served.
“If it’s just for fun, I know a couple of guys.” Harrison takes a bite of his juicy steak, pointing his fork at my sister. “Live a little. Not everything is business and school.”
My sister twists her lips, takes a sip of her wine, and looks at my grandfather. Ah, that’s what’s stopping her smart mouth from putting him in his place.
“Pimping your stallions, again, Everhart?”
He grins, nodding once. “Yeah, I have quite the catalog to take care of your problem.”
“I have a problem?”
“I don’t think this is an appropriate conversation for the table.” I stop them before things get out of hand. My sister is working hard to keep her smarminess in check.
“There’s nothing inappropriate about this conversation,” Hazel corrects me. “He’s trying to find me a suitable stallion to marry and procreate with, right?”
“No, just a good lay,” Harrison retorts, and my grandfather starts choking.
“I agree with Willow. There’s a time and a place for those conversations,” my grandfather says, recovering his breath.
“It’s better than the time he tried to teach me how to masturbate—during a similar event.” Hazel finishes her wine, setting her glass next to Fitz, who tops it off. “I recall you had quite a group listening to your entertaining conversation.”
Now it’s my turn to start coughing. “Did you?” I frown, watching Harrison.
He gives me a lazy smile. “People have to take care of themselves. Daily exercise, a healthy diet, and a sex life.” He raises his glass and clinks it against Hazel’s. “To teaching everyone the art of masturbation.”
Hazel laughs, her eyes crinkling as she drinks the entire glass of wine.
“Is he for real?” I murmur against Hunter’s ear, my teeth clenching. I’m embarrassed by the conversation and his tone.
“Chill, Wills.” Hazel shakes her head.
“Chill,” Harrison repeats. “Masturbating is a healthy habit. More doctors should recommend it.”
“You stop,” Hazel orders him, and he straightens his back and nods obediently. “We already played who is getting laid today.”
She turns to Hunter smiling. “You won the bet.” Then, she returns to Harrison. “I have to find you a woman. I think you need to find your match. Someone who will keep you on your toes.”
Harrison serves her with a wider grin. “Are you pimping me out? Because I have a pretty long list for the woman who even tries to put a ring on it.”
“It has to be a cock ring.” Fitz laughs, high-fiving his brother.
“Yeah, when you find my match let me know, little Hazel. I doubt she exists.”
Hazel raises an eyebrow, giving him a challenge accepted smirk. “Dessert is being served, time for me to work. Harrison, mind being my valiant companion? Let’s get some serious cash to remodel the Everhart Complex.”
He nods, standing up and reaching for her hand. With their arms linked, they leave. Confused, I ask Hunter what this gala is for. I should’ve known that from the beginning, but I was already overwhelmed by yesterday’s audition and his invitation.
The gala is to celebrate the birthday of Rickard Kane, Jr., who died of brain cancer when he was ten. During the event, they raise funds for different charities. This year, it’s the youth center where Hunter’s mother volunteered before she died. They changed the name to Everhart, honoring her and her husband. When the nominations for this year came, he and his brothers suggested they apply and Everhart Industries would match the amount they raised. My sister is the one who filled out the application and wrote the essay.
I’m fighting not to feel left out, but my sister is in a different place now. When she said she was moving to New York, I imagined us being tight. But that isn’t the case. Is it my fault?
“Do you want to get out of here?” Hunter caresses my hand.
“You have to be here.”
He shakes his head. “My brothers will cover for me. I get the feeling you’re ready to head home. Unless you want us to check into a suite.” His mischievous smile brings a grin to my face.
He touches my temple with his soft lips. “But I don’t want to assume because your mind seems to be all over the place.”
“It’s time for me to disappear. Hazel will take care of my donation,” Grandpa announces, directing his gaze at me. “I’m glad you came, Willow. Are you leaving with Hunter or would you like to ride with me?”
“No, thank you. You should only worry about Hazel.” My voice comes off like a bite. I feel ashamed for snapping, for the ambivalence I have for him. One moment I’m content with this place, the next I’m elated, and then I crash because I don’t belong. All three corrode my emotional state. Am I wrong to feel jealous about Gramps relationship with Hazel? She can take care of him, his estate, and she found a new family. The Everharts are the McFee family of New York. She doesn’t need me. I should stop disrupting her life. Maybe Harrison is assuming Elliot’s place. I turn to look at Hunter, knowing he would be the perfect match for her. Can anyone be as amazing as him? Certainly not, and it won’t be long before he realizes she’s so much better than I am.
Leave, Willow. Run now that you still have your act together. No one will notice your absence. I rise from my seat. “You know what, I think that’s a marvelous idea. Shall we, Grandpa?” Everyone at the table stares at me, and my eyes widen as I realize I spoke in a poor British accent. Wonderful, now they’re going to think I’m crazy.
“Oops,” I peep, touching my mouth with the tip of my fingers I smile. “A side effect from my earlier audition. If you’ll excuse us, we will be leaving.” I quickly try to add something to the words that slipped from my mouth. “Have fun, Everhart boys. Make sure my sister makes it home. I’m so happy she found a support system in all of you.” I pat Hunter’s shoulder and walk to my grandfather. “Lead the way, Gramps. I’m so tired, I could sleep for days.”
I’m tired of trying to please everyone, to change for each person I know. When will they accept me for who I am? None of these people care about me. With each rejection, I die a little more on the inside.
“Of course, dear. The car is waiting for us.” We turn around to leave.
As I slide into the service car, I spot Hunter watching from afar. The door closes, and I can’t hold my shit together any longer. I start crying like a stupid child abandoned by her parents. No one ever chooses me. My grandfather holds me as I continue to cry, ordering the driver to take a long ride and closing the privacy window.
“This isn’t normal, dear. We have to find you some help, get you the support you need before something bad happens.” He doesn’t know bad happens daily. I wear bad as a second skin. When something good is about to approach, I make sure I ruin it.