MAXWELL

Don’t dangle an apple in front of my face and expect me not to take a bite of it. My dick had a mind of its own and never hesitated to get hard around a beautiful woman. Minor obstacles like lying unconscious on a hard-as-fuck concrete slab didn’t mean shit when I felt her soft touch or got a whiff of her sweet perfume. That nurse’s costume was certainly a nice touch. I watched her sitting there with her legs spread open after I’d inadvertently pushed her down. Fuck me, it was enough to give me a nice-sized stiffy. Under normal circumstances I would have fucked her three ways to Sunday, or at least tried to. She had that deer in the headlights look on her face, until she caught me staring at her pussy; then she was the Tasmanian Devil and tried to rip my face off.Now that I was wide awake thanks to Nurse Ratchet and her heavy hand, I remembered that this was not a normal circumstance and I was not in the middle of the best sexual fantasy I’d had in years. I was back in the nightmare that had caused me to pass out in the first place. I was home.

I stood up on shaky legs and dusted myself off, a poor attempt at making myself look presentable. It didn’t matter. I was home, the place where your family accepted you no matter what, right? Killed your father? We don’t care, come on over. Got my girlfriend kidnapped and nearly stabbed to death? No problem, it was an honest mistake. Turn your back on the only people in the world who loved you? Hey, shit happens; my door was always open to family. I had that once, the best father and friends a man could ask for. Growing up at the junkyard was the best thing that had ever happened to me; it made me who I was today, until I fucked up one too many times and was forced to leave it behind. I missed my brothers more and more with each passing day, not knowing what I had until it was finally gone. Range and his constant need to shower ten times a day could only be appreciated if you witnessed it firsthand. Strangers never knew the guy worked at a junkyard fifteen hours straight just by looking at him; he would die before he allowed himself to appear unkempt. Sebastian and his over-the-top assessments of just about everything. What I wouldn’t give to hear one of his stories about a killer strain of mosquitoes running rampant in Virginia that was out to kill us all. The older he got, the more outrageous the stories became, until all of our basic human needs would be the death of us one way or another. Where exactly was the danger in pealing the label off a bottle of water you were drinking? That was the stupid shit that made my chest ache with longing to be with my brothers again. The shit I had put Sebastian through when I forced his woman to lie about that night Mitch attacked her was unforgivable. I’d thought protecting Mitch would prevent Range and the rest of the boys from killing him, landing them in jail for the rest of their lives. They saw it as me choosing a stranger over the brotherhood, a direct violation of everything Buck had taught us growing up. Never go against your brothers. Buck said that shit to us every fucking day without fail. He pounded it into our brains so we’d never forget it. I’d made the wrong choice for the right reasons that night, but it didn’t matter. I’d fucked up royally and almost cost Ashley her life.

It had been months since I left town. No one called or tried to text, not that I expected them to, especially not Sebastian. I knew what happened with Ashley cut him deep, deeper than all the fucked-up words I yelled at him when they staged that bullshit intervention. I wanted to make them feel as bad as I felt, knowing that I was the cause of Buck’s death and he was never coming back. I lashed out at each one of them with such venom, I wanted to kick my own ass for it. They didn’t deserve it. I would have tried anything to make them stop caring about me; I wasn’t worth the time or effort. Their lives were moving forward; they were happy and excited about things to come. They found the women of their dreams and were making a go of it, while I lived my life on constant repeat of work, fuck, misery, day after day. I punished myself like King Sisyphus did in the Underworld, pushed that bolder of self-loathing up a hill and watched it roll back and smack me in the face before it reached the top. That look in Clover’s eyes when she begged me to stop hurting my brothers was all too real. I was a cunt for hurting them that way.

A few days after my decision to return home, I received a phone call from Range after months of radio silence. He wasn’t the type of man to go back on his word, and he swore that day at the hospital before my discharge that he would never reach out to me again. The day he and Sebastian came to the hospital and told me I was no longer welcome at the yard killed me. Sure, I was breathing and my heart was beating, but I felt like my life ended in that moment. I realized too late that I needed their support, that they were my lifeline if I had any hope of living a normal life. “Get your shit together,” Range told me, right before he turned his back on me for the very last time and walked away. Hearing his voice on the other end of that phone, the hesitation and mistrust when he asked how I was doing…I had a lot of ground to make up if I wanted my family back. I told Range about my plans to return home, and after everything that happened, all the shit I’d done, he still tried to get me to return to the junkyard. I tried telling him why that could never happen, at least not now, but he could never understand. I no longer deserved the brotherhood, the security of the junkyard, or the unconditional love my family gave me. I’d betrayed them all in the worst possible way, time and time again, choosing my own needs over theirs until the day that need took my father’s life. I deserved these feelings of broken loneliness and pain. I’d caused so much more, it was only right I got my fair share. Somewhere along the line I stopped giving a shit about what happened to me, stopped caring if I lived or died. I needed something in my life that made it worth living again. Going back was the only option. I hadn’t counted on passing out at the front door or getting slapped in the face so hard it made my eyes water. There I was, standing on the precipice between panic and hysteria, and the next thing I felt was the sting of fire on my cheek. If that wasn’t a sign to get my shit together, nothing was.

Satisfied that my appearance wasn’t going to get much better, I knew the time had come for me to get my balls up and actually knock this time. My hand shook uncontrollably as I grabbed for the doorknocker and struck it in three quick secessions. What the fuck you doin’ there, boy? Are you crazy or sumptin’? Get your ass gone. Buck’s voice broke through loud and clear inside my head as I waited for the door to open. Maybe I was crazy. I’d barely escaped the first time. To willingly come back after all these years? Yeah, I definitely fucked up. I was just about to haul ass out of there when the butler cracked open the door and greeted me with a speculative stare.

“Yes? May I help you, sir?” I cleared the lump that sat in my throat before I answered, hoping I appeared more confident than I actually felt.

“I’m here to see Senator and Mrs. Antonia Lancaster, please.”

“And…whom should I say is calling, sir?” Pompous prick.

“Um…tell her…” Fuck, I had to make up something fast, or this asshole would never let me in. “Tell her… Mr. O’Neill regarding her recent phone inquiry.” I put my game face on, the one I used when meeting new clients for the first time. I didn’t appreciate the judgmental glare coming from his eyes. So what if I wasn’t wearing my usual business suit and tie? It wasn’t his place to scrutinize me in any way. Nosy motherfucker.

“Just one moment, sir.” He went to close the door, but I felt he needed a little more encouragement.

“I’m certain the senator and Mrs. Lancaster wouldn’t appreciate it if you kept me waiting too long.” I was quickly losing my nerve, and if he didn’t hurry, I wasn’t sure I could do this.

“Yes…just…one moment, sir.” Pussy.

Get your head outta your ass, boy. You’re fucking up big time, you little shit. Buck was back in my head as I waited for the doorman to hurry back. Maybe he was right, this was a very bad idea and I should have taken more time and thought it through. Ultimately, it came down to the fact that I didn’t have anywhere else to go. Sure, Range asked me to come back to the junkyard, but to what end? I needed to know what was wrong with me, why I destroyed everything that meant something. It started here, in this house, when I was too young to do anything about it. The questions I had could only be answered by two people, both of which owed it to me to tell me the truth and end the nightmare that had become my life. I couldn’t go back to the yard the same way I’d left it, chasing empty pussy, watching the disappointment in my brothers’ eyes, hurting the people I loved so I felt better about myself. No, “getting my shit together” started today, right fucking now. I was so deep in thought that I didn’t notice the door opening and the beautiful woman who stood just on the other side.

“Hello, Mr. O’Neill, so nice of you to follow up in person. I’m Antonia Lancaster.” I couldn’t speak, stunned stupid by the vision in front of my eyes. She hadn’t changed one bit in all the years I was gone. There wasn’t a single wrinkle or blemish on her flawless alabaster skin, and her smile was so warm and welcoming I felt like crying. How was it possible to miss someone and hate their fucking guts all at the same time? She had no idea who I was, that I ran away years ago and was now standing directly in front of her. Did she miss me? Did she regret everything that happened to me in this house? Would she send me away without so much as a hello or fuck off? How could she not recognize me? Had I changed that much from when I was a boy? I couldn’t stand not knowing. I took a deep breath to clear my lingering nerves and looked her in the eyes.

“Hello, Mother.”